Contents:

Title Author page

A Day at the Beach NostalgiaKick 4

A Lovely Smile Morgana 14

A T-Shirt Revelation KatherineKent 18

After Nightfall, The Return of Superman Bobart 39

Aftershocks MouseRocks 166

Aurora Borealis – The Complete Story KenJ 170

Birthday Surprise Thomas Mc 251

Cold Feet RodStewFan 332

Cooking Class Female Hawk 336

Countermeasures Morgana 407

Encounter in the Woods Queen of the Capes 415

Far From Fiction MozartMaid 424

Fire Drill SueS 467

Gawain and the Black Knight Déjà vu 482

Jerome’s Wedding LynnSM 742

Kiss Clasicalla 745

Lois and Castle Tank Wilson 750

Lunkheads bakasi 769

Miracle Deadly Chakram 772

One Small Detail Female Hawk 778

Practically Married KatherineKent 782

Snowy Secrets MozartMaid 793

Sold to the Highest Bidder RodStewFan 855

Stranger in Our Midst Morgana 861

Terrible Teen Paranormal Romance AnnieB 1225

The Dinner Party Mouserocks 1229

The Ears Have It SueS 1242

The End of the Road Terry Leatherwood 1257

The Keys to Clark Kent Mouserocks 1475

The Vampire Murders Nan Smith 1490

Under the Spotlight KatherineKent 1735

Waiting in Line KatherineKent 1761

When Death Comes Knocking Terry Leatherwood 1768

While I Slept VirginiaR 1882

The following story –

“A Day at the Beach”

by – NostalgiaKick

was Nominated in the:

Best Short Stories,

Best First Kiss,

and

Best New Author

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

A Day at the Beach

By NostalgiaKick <feli290412@gmail.com>

Rated PG

Submitted November 2013

Summary: Lois and Clark get an unexpected weekend off.

Author's note: This is my first fanfic for Lois and Clark. Thanks goes to my dear friend Trina, who beta-read this, and to everyone who left feedback when I posted it to the fanfic message boards. You guys gave me the encouragement I needed to submit this to the archive. Also, special thanks go to IolantheAlias, my archive GE, for picking up on the mistakes that snuck through.

Some of you might recognize the beach in this story (KenJ did) as being Bondi Beach in Sydney, Australia. If you ever get a chance to visit Bondi, take it. It is truly beautiful.

***

Clark awoke, feeling unusually well-rested. For once he hadn't been disturbed in the middle of the night to go and do something Super. That, coupled with the fact that he hadn't had to get up and go to work, had put him in a good mood.

It had been a surprise last night when Perry had insisted that he and Lois take the weekend off. They'd been working on big story after big story for a few weeks now. When Clark thought about it, he couldn't actually remember the last time they'd had a whole weekend off. It had definitely been overdue. The late notice had meant that he hadn't had time to make plans. He hadn't seen his folks for a while. Maybe he'd take a trip out to Smallville.

He took his cup of tea out on to the balcony, registering as he stepped outside that it was shaping up to be another scorching hot day. The heat didn't affect him, it was true, but it gave him an idea for something to do on his unexpected day off. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Perfect beach weather.

He went back inside and stuffed the few things he'd need into a backpack, then hesitated. On impulse, he picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number from memory, turning as he did to check the time. It was just after 8am- surely she'd be up? Even on a day off?

Her "hello" sounded a little terse. He made a face. Hopefully he hadn't woken her.

"Lois? It's Clark. Did I call at a bad time?"

"Oh, Clark. I thought you were Perry, calling us in."

He laughed, knowing the feeling. The unexpected free time seemed a little too good to be true.

"Do you have anything planned for today? I was thinking about taking a trip to the beach..."

***

Lois hung up the phone, a smile on her face. Clark's invitation to go to the beach had come at a good time. She'd been trying to figure out what to do with an unexpected free weekend. She hadn't been to the beach in a long time. And the opportunity to spend more time with Clark was something she welcomed.

She'd realized on her aborted wedding day to Lex Luthor that she was in love with Clark Kent. She just didn't know what to do about it. After her rejection of him in Centennial Park on that day back in the spring, she was pretty sure she'd ruined whatever chance she'd had with Clark. It wasn't the first time she'd rejected him- just the most painful one. And while she hadn't admitted it at the time, the knowledge that her kind, gentle best friend was in love with her had alternately thrilled and terrified her. So she'd turned him down as gently as she could. It wasn't until she was getting ready to walk down the aisle that she'd realised how much she loved him. How much she needed him in her life.

But then he'd retracted his declaration of love. And he'd never given her any hint that he felt that way about her still. She sighed. At least now, a few months later, they'd gotten their friendship back on track. And even if Clark didn't love her the way she loved him, she could still spend time with him.

Lois shook herself mentally, telling herself to hurry up and get ready, otherwise she'd be late. She hesitated for a few minutes over her choice of swimwear, trying to decide between the bikini she'd picked up at the end of last summer, and something with a bit more coverage. She scolded herself mentally. She was going to the beach with Clark. She didn't have to worry about wandering eyes- or worse, wandering hands. She could trust Clark to act like the perfect gentleman. She got changed, and then quickly packed her things into a large tote bag. She'd vetoed Clark's suggestion of taking the train, telling him she'd pick him up instead. She had just enough time to get to his place.

***

By the time they'd reached the beach, a few miles outside the city proper, it had really started to heat up. The beach was, predictably, packed and Lois was lucky to get a parking spot. This particular beach was popular, being fairly close to the city, relatively unspoiled and serviced by public transport. It was a beautiful beach, almost half a mile long, with white sand and sparkling blue water.

Clark collected their bags out of the back of the Jeep, grinning at Lois as he handed her the tote bag.

"What?" she asked him suspiciously.

"Nothing. It's a beautiful day, we don't have to work-- I'm allowed to be happy."

Lois smiled at his uncomplicated good spirits, walking beside him as they made their way down the ramp to the sand and along the beach to where the lifeguards had set up a set of red-and-yellow flags.

She took a moment to survey the beach. She'd never been here before, and she liked what she saw. The main lifeguard tower was right in the middle of the beach, and they had a clearly strong presence- a good thing, she thought, with so many people on the beach today. Digging in her tote bag, she took out her towel and sunscreen, shaking the towel out onto the sand and settling down on it. She took the opportunity to surreptitiously study her partner. He'd removed the light shirt he'd been wearing and was in the process of applying sunscreen to his chest and arms. It was sometimes easy to overlook the admittedly magnificent physique he hid behind the business suits and wild ties. It wasn't until you saw him in more casual clothes that you realised how muscular he actually was. Or in a towel, her memory reminded her. And he had the face to match the body. All in all, her partner -- her best friend -- was one very attractive man.

"Earth to Lois."

Startled, she snapped out of her reverie. "Sorry?"

He looked a little worried. "I'm going in for a swim. Are you coming?"

She shook her head. "I'll be there in a few minutes. But you go ahead." She tried to smile at him, fighting for composure.

"Ok." He turned to walk away, then turned back. "Is everything okay, Lois? You were looking at me with the strangest expression on your face."

She felt the heat rising in her face as she replied. "I'm fine, Clark. Really." She could see from his expression that he wasn't totally convinced, but he turned and headed towards the water.

***

Clark allowed himself a grin as he turned away from Lois and made his way into the water. He was pretty certain he'd just caught his partner checking him out. She'd certainly been staring at him fairly intensely, and her tell-tale blush after he'd interrupted her had been a bit of a giveaway.

He swum strongly out, ducking under the waves until he reached a point where he could still stand comfortably before treading water. He knew he wasn't in any danger of drowning, even if he went out deeper- he could hold his breath for 20 minutes, after all. But the lifeguards on the beach didn't know that, and he didn't want to put them to the trouble of an unnecessary rescue. Plus, he wanted a chance to think without being disturbed.

Had he really just seen what he thought he'd seen? The expression he'd surprised on Lois's face was almost identical to the one he used to see on her face when she looked at Superman. He'd known all along that she was attracted to his alter-ego. It was one of the reasons that he'd tried to distance himself from her as Superman. He wanted her to be attracted to him, the real him -- Clark Kent. But he wanted more than that too. He wanted her to love him, the way he loved her. If all she felt for him was attraction... He wasn't sure what to do with his newfound knowledge.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, then quickly messing it up. He couldn't wear his glasses when swimming -- if Lois saw him without his glasses and with his hair slicked back, there was no way she wouldn't put two and two together. All of a sudden he realised how much of a risk he'd taken, bringing her here. If she figured it out... He'd just have to be extra careful.

"Clark!"

He turned at the sound of Lois's voice. She was standing knee deep in the water, fifty feet away. He hadn't realised how far in he'd drifted while he'd been thinking. The sight of her made him gasp inwardly.

She'd shed the sundress she'd been wearing and was wearing a simple, royal blue bikini top and matching boardshorts. The shorts were short, only covering her to mid-thigh, while the top left enough to the imagination to be alluring, without leaving any illusions as to the beautiful figure it clung to. He bit his lip, stifling a groan. She was doing absolutely nothing for his self-control. Diving under the waves, he used the time to stuff his more romantic feelings back into their metaphorical box.

Wading the last few feet, he resolved to just enjoy the day with Lois.

***

And they did enjoy it. They swam; Clark taught Lois to body surf, once using his powers surreptitiously to prevent her from being dumped by a wave. They sunbathed, walked along the sand and indulged in ice cream cones from the ice creamery across the road from the beach. He did hear the occasional call for help, but every time his Super presence was unnecessary- the lifeguards on this beach were extremely skilled, and the outside world seemed to be taking a break from disaster.

Towards late afternoon, they decided to explore the tide pools hidden amongst the rocks at the northern end of the beach.

He made it back safely across the rocks, his faster reaction times making it easier for him to keep his balance. Reaching the sand again, he turned just in time to see Lois slip and fall. He rushed back, hearing a muffled curse from amongst the rocks. He got there just as she was pulling herself up.

"Lois! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Clark." She got to her feet, an uncertain look on her face as she put her left foot to the ground. He caught the quick flash of pain that crossed her face. "Ow."

He climbed down to her. "What is it?"

"My foot."

He looked down. Sure enough, a trail of blood was trickling down her foot and onto the rocks. He scooped her up into his arms, holding her securely against his chest.

"Clark! You'll fall!" She clutched him tighter around the neck as he clambered up, across the rocks and made it back to the beach. "Okay. You can-you can put me down now."

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Clark. I'm fine. I can walk."

"And get sand all through that cut?" He kept walking, shifting her a little so she wasn't quite as close to him. She was quiet for a moment.

"Where are we going?"

"To the lifeguard tower. They usually have first aid kits." He pointed out.

"Clark, I'm fine. I don't need a first aid kit."

He refused to put her down. "That cut needs cleaning. Do you know what you cut yourself on? Because I don't. For all we know, there could be bits of shell or something in it" he pointed out.

"Clark!"

"Lois!" He used the same exasperated tone she had, just to let her know he wasn't backing down. "Anyway, we're here now." He carried her up the steps to the tower before setting her back on her feet and knocking on the tower door.

For once he had actually wanted to let her go. Every other time he'd carried her like that, there'd been layers of fabric between them. But today... The skimpy bikini top and board shorts that had so affected him earlier left a lot of Lois's pale, creamy skin uncovered. Holding her close to his bare chest, feeling her skin rubbing against his with every step, had been a kind of torture.

He stood back a little while the lifeguard washed and disinfected Lois's foot. Once the bleeding had been stopped, the cut, down one side of her big toe, was revealed to be about an inch and a half long but luckily shallow. The lifeguard gave his opinion that Lois had managed to kick an oyster shell clinging to the rock when she fell. "But you're lucky; there are no pieces of shell in the cut. Otherwise you could get a nasty infection," he informed them.

Surreptitiously, Clark lowered his glasses and focused on the cut, checking for his own peace of mind that the lifeguard was right. With the ease of long practice, the lifeguard dressed the cut and sent them on their way, waving one hand in response to Lois's thanks.

***

"See, Clark, I told you I was fine." Lois shot him a challenging look.

"Right." He sounded disbelieving. "So why are you limping?"

"I'm not limping," she informed him. "This sand is hot."

His soft chuckle told her he didn't believe her. And she had to admit, he was right. The sun was going down now, and the sand was at most warm. She ignored him for a couple of minutes while he hovered solicitously at her left side, until they made it back to where they'd left their things. She picked up her towel and shook the sand off it almost violently, annoyed with herself for falling and getting hurt.

"I guess we'd better pack up and go home," she told him. "It's starting to get dark."

"I guess so," he agreed. He sounded as disappointed as she felt. She shot him a look. He looked almost sad, she decided. Now why was that? Just because she didn't want the day to end didn't mean he felt the same way. Pushing the stray thought aside, she picked up the rest of her things, shaking and brushing the sand off her belongings before packing them back into her tote bag. Finished, she straightened up and glanced at him again. He was pulling the zipper on his backpack closed. He looked over at her and saw her watching him.

"Ready to go?" he asked softly.

She nodded, trying to think of something -- anything -- to say to prevent them from just climbing back into the Jeep and going back to their normal lives.

He reached out for her tote bag. "Here, I'll take that."

She relinquished it to him, happy to not have it banging into her side. To her chagrin, she definitely couldn't walk without limping. "The keys are in the front pocket," she told him.

***

They walked back to Lois's Jeep in silence.

Clark had noticed how disappointed Lois had sounded when she suggested packing up and going home. The question was, why? Was it just the thought of getting back to reality? She'd seemed to be enjoying herself today. Or was it something else?

Well, as she obviously didn't relish the thought of just heading back to Metropolis, he thought he'd better find something to delay them at least a little while. Reaching the Jeep, he opened the tailgate and placed their bags in the back. Lois reached around him, her arm brushing against the bare skin of his abdomen. It felt how he imagined an electric shock would feel. Involuntarily his muscles tensed, and for the third time today he found himself fighting for composure. Lois froze for a moment, then stretched further forward and collected the bag she'd been reaching for. Holding it up so he could see, she stammered "I'm -- going to get changed."

Clark nodded, still tongue-tied. She'd gone a few steps when he regained some presence of mind and called out to her. "Why don't I get us something to eat? We can eat over there, on the grass." He gestured to a gently sloping grassy area behind him, then rolled his eyes. 'Smooth, Kent,' he told himself.

Lois stopped for a moment, giving him a searching look. "Okay."

Clark waited until she'd turned around, and then shook his head. What was *wrong* with him today? Normally he had much better self-control than this! He'd had plenty of practice concealing his true feelings for his partner and best friend. Why was today any different? He shrugged into his shirt, leaving the buttons open down the front, then made his way out of the parking lot.

Slowly he walked across to the row of shops that fronted onto the beach. There was the usual array of souvenir shops, takeout food places and shops selling beachwear. He found what he was looking for -- a shop that sold fresh seafood, cooked to order – and made a selection.

By the time his order was ready and he'd crossed the street back to the beachfront, he could see a lone figure sitting on the grassy slope. Lois. Reaching her, he dropped to the grass next to her and silently offered her the can of diet soft drink that he knew she preferred.

"Thanks, Clark." She smiled at him, but she looked troubled. Trying to keep the mood light, he inaugurated the kind of undemanding conversation that he was good at. Soon he had the satisfaction of hearing her laugh.

Finally, when the food was gone and she'd protested that she couldn't fit in another bite, he picked up the paper wrappings and disposed of them in the nearby rubbish bin. Lois was still sitting where he'd left her. He stretched out a hand, silently offering to help her up. He pulled her to her feet, but when she put her injured foot to the ground, she stumbled, bracing herself against him. Her outstretched fingers ended splayed across his bare chest, his hands on her arms, stopping her from falling any further. They looked at each other for a moment before he consciously relaxed his grip, allowing her to pull away if she wanted to. Feeling like he had to say something -- anything – he seized on the first thing he could think of.

"How's your foot?" His voice came out huskier than usual. Standing the way they were, it would only take the smallest movement for him to kiss her, and all of a sudden it was only thing he could think of.

"A little sore" she allowed. She tilted her chin up and he found himself caught by her deep brown eyes. "Clark, I'm sorry I ruined our day -"

He shook his head slightly, cutting her off. "You didn't," he told her softly. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming; dipping his head that last little bit, he pressed his lips to hers gently for a long moment, then pulled back slightly so he could gauge her reaction. Searching her face, he let go of her arms, sliding one hand along her jaw line into her hair and pulling her closer. "Lois..." he breathed. He kissed her again, letting some of the passion he felt for her come to the surface, feeling her eager response.

She freed her hand from where it was trapped between them, looping her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss even further. It felt like he was on fire. Her slim body, clad in a light sundress, was pressed up against his mostly bare chest, their tongues dancing together... She pulled back slightly, leaving him feeling strangely bereft.

Breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers, marveling at the fact that she'd left him breathless. He could hold his breath for twenty minutes, but this woman could leave him breathless.

They stayed like that for a long moment, Clark reveling in the moment, before he realized what he'd done. He'd kissed Lois. Lois. His best friend, the one woman he'd ever loved, the only woman he'd ever love -- but she didn't feel the same way about him. What had he done? After this, after stepping over the line so badly, would she really want to still be his friend? He had no excuse for his behavior. Horrified with himself, he turned away.

***

Lois felt Clark go rigid and pull away from her. From the brief glimpse she got of his face as he turned away, he was about to make the worst construction possible of this turn of events. She had to stop him.

"Lois, I'm --"

She cut him off ruthlessly. For once, she was going first.

"Clark Kent, if you apologize or say one word about this being a mistake, I will never forgive you." Her voice was shaking as much as her knees

He swung back towards her. "You mean... You're not upset?"

"No!" She took a halting step forward, laying her hand on his arm, feeling the taut muscles as he held himself rigid. "Clark, I've never been kissed like that in my life." She heard his relieved chuckle and felt the tension leave the muscles under her hand.

"I thought -- I thought you'd be mad," he admitted.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Because we're friends... and partners. I didn't think you saw me as- as anything else."

"Oh, Clark..." she wanted to slap him for being so obtuse.”I haven't thought of you as just a friend for a long time. It just -- it just took me a while to realize it."

She heard him draw a shaky breath. "Lois..." All of a sudden he snatched her up in his arms and she was being crushed to his chest. She choked a little and he relaxed his hold, letting her go enough so that he could look at her. She met his gaze squarely. He had a hopeful expression on his face, but his eyes were filled with so much love that it made her breath catch in her throat. How had she never realized just how strongly Clark felt about her? And in that instant she knew that she could tell him how she felt, how she really felt. "I love you, Clark."

His face lit up. There was no other way to describe it. She'd never seen him look so uncomplicatedly happy. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that, Lois." His voice was husky. "I love you so much... I've always loved you."

She felt a wide smile break out across her own face at his words. He picked her up and swung her around in a circle, making her burst out laughing at his sheer exultation. He set her back gently on her feet, his grin fading as his expression became more intent. Without hesitation, he dipped his head and covered her mouth with his.

If she'd thought their last kiss was explosive, this one was earth-shattering. All of the passion he'd so resolutely controlled came to the fore, and she had to cling to him to stay upright. She'd heard of people going weak at the knees, and had always put it down to over-exaggeration. But her knees felt like water. She kissed him back eagerly, passionately, and was disappointed when they both had to come up for air. She drew a deep, shuddering breath and leaned against him, loving the feel of his strong arms around her.

"Wow." His voice trembled.

"Yeah." She rested her head against his chest, content to hold him and have him hold her. "So where do we go from here?" she asked shyly.

"I think a date would be appropriate." She could hear the laughter in his voice. "Say, tomorrow night?"

"Sounds good to me."

***

The ride home had seemed to go past in a blur. Clark had driven Lois's Jeep home, to give her injured foot a break. They'd spent the whole trip holding hands, talking about their relationship. He'd left her at her apartment, using the nearby alley to spin into the Supersuit. They still had a lot to talk about -- he had to tell her about his dual identity, for starters. His stomach clenched at the thought. He knew she'd be mad; there was no getting around that. He'd tell her after their date tomorrow night.

Later tonight, he'd have to do a patrol over the city, make sure that the criminals didn't think he wasn't aware of them. But right now, he had to go and see his folks. He had to share this news with somebody, or he'd burst.

From sheer joy, he did a couple of loop the loops as he left the city limits, heading towards Kansas.

THE END

The following story –

“A Lovely Smile”

”

by – Morgana

was Nominated in the:

Best Super Sort Story

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

A Lovely Smile

By Morgana <cynthia.mccoy533@gmail.com>

Rated: G

Submitted: February, 2013

Summary: She is mentioned only once, during the series pilot while Clark and Lois glide across the dance floor at the White Orchid Ball. But the Nigerian princess who taught Clark Kent how to dance ballroom-style pops up every now and then in fan fiction. Here's my take ...

A big thank you to the following folks: KenJ and Bob for beta reading; they kept looking this fic over to make sure it was correct. Also much thanks to Sydney for the tiny, but important details about Paris; it made a huge difference to the accuracy of the story!

As always, here is the following legal disclaimer: The characters in this story are property of DC, December 3rd productions and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. I have just borrowed the characters for a small bit of time to play in their universe.

***

One pleasant early September morning in Paris, Professor Abrihet Senai delicately sipped from a cup of strong, freshly brewed coffee, savoring the different notes of flavor dancing over her tongue as she opened the French edition of the Daily Planet. The headline fairly jumped out at her:

*SUPERMAN SAVES SPACE COLONISTS!*

She spoke aloud, "What is this? A human who possesses super powers? How can this be? Ah, he is very handsome... but such a serious expression mars the face."

The dance teacher turned Maitre de conferences (assistant professor) of French Medieval history at the Sorbonne University examined the picture intensely; her inquisitive dark brown eyes traveled over his well-muscled torso and then returned to his face. There was something oddly familiar about the chiseled features. Unfortunately, the elusive thought of *where* she might have seen such a man refused to crystallize into being. She looked at the author's name of the piece: Lois Lane. The Daily Planet's reporter had always been associated with truth and decency, so this article could not be a hoax.

Abrihet thought, <The newspaper account relates how this Superman lifted the Prometheus rocket carrying the colonists into outer space after preventing it from being destroyed by a bomb hidden onboard. This reads like science fiction! But the Daily Planet has *never* been a newspaper that went in for sensationalism.>

After reading the front-page stories, she turned to another page and read several other articles. Eventually she came to one about an old theatre in Metropolis that had been razed to make space for a parking lot. The theatre had been a popular showcase for French actors and actresses traveling to the United States in the twenties. The writer's style was warm and comforting, transporting her to America and the time when Warren G. Harding was president and Prohibition began. Abrihet pondered the strange word, 'Prohibition,' and then checked the author of this piece. The by-line read: Clark Kent.

Her eyes crinkled with recognition and delight -- Monsieur Kent! One of the last students she taught ballroom dancing before taking up her position in the Sorbonne's history department. The amusing memory of how gauche and nervous he was in the beginning made her chuckle. <The young man was so nervous, he held me like I was fine china!>

Still, it had only taken a few lessons before the clumsiness smoothed out and the young man danced with confidence and a touch of style. But despite the gushing admiration his female classmates showered upon him, Clark Kent never became arrogant or boastful. He was quite different from the other young male American tourists she had met.

She remembered talking to him about his travels. He had come to Paris from Borneo after working on a small paper there. Before that, three months working with the boiler room crew on a tramp steamer, traveling from Buenos Aires to Bangkok. He had been living in a tiny attic apartment in the city's Porte d'Orleans section and working as a stringer for one of the smaller Paris weeklies. The name of the publication utterly escaped her.

Because of his warmth and candor, Abrihet had told him about her own life in Nigeria. How, at the age of twenty, she defied her family and fled Lagos rather than be forced to marry a tiresome man twice her age. She arrived in Paris with enough money to build a life of her own. It gave her immense pleasure to live here and she could not imagine having a life anywhere else.

He had stuck her as a Renaissance man ... a true gentleman, but one who was searching for a permanent place to establish a life and call a city his forever home. She suspected that although he loved Paris and was enchanted by its beauty, this was not the city for him. In the meantime, he'd enjoyed learning new things... like ballroom dancing.

Not long after Clark's final dance lesson, he'd moved to Madrid. She'd never seen him again, but his kindness and the brilliance of his smile always remained firmly fixed in her mind.

Her meditations on young Monsieur Kent had caused her to lose track of time. The wall clock chimed 7:30. If she did not hurry to catch the Metro at Odeon station she would be late for work.

***

Over the next few years, Abrihet read numerous accounts of Superman's exploits, both in America and around the world. He had visited Paris on several occasions, but unfortunately, she was never able to see the Man of Steel up close. Still, whenever a picture of the handsome stranger from another planet appeared, a sense of familiarity continued to nag her.

Several reporters had written about his brave deeds, but she favored reading The Daily Planet's version of the events, especially articles by the reporting team of Lane and Kent. They wrote many stories separately, but it was the articles done by *The Hottest Team in Town* that always garnered her attention. It pleased Abrihet no end that her former dance pupil was now an internationally respected journalist.

***

It was a fine Saturday morning in autumn. She was drinking coffee and nibbling on a fresh, hot buttery croissant from Chez Morel on her terrace. A light, slightly cool but refreshingly pleasant breeze caressed her face. The city of Paris was slowly beginning to awaken from its evening slumber. Abrihet saw a large picture of Superman on the front page; he was smiling, a wide grin, something he normally did not do. Apparently he had been visiting a Paris orphanage and playing games with the youngsters brought out the superhero's tender side. It was a good smile, pleasant and honest. She turned the page and another photo jumped out at her; it was the picture and wedding announcement of Clark Kent to his partner Lois Lane. Monsieur Kent's face glowed with happiness; his smile was brilliant as he gazed intently at his new wife.

Abrihet looked hard at the picture and then muttered to herself, "Mon Dieu! C'est impossible..."

She hurried into the apartment and returned with a pair of scissors and a black pencil. She quickly cut out the picture of Superman and laid it next to the wedding picture of Clark Kent. She then drew a pair of glasses around his eyes.

After staring from one picture to another, Abrihet chuckled softly to herself. The handsome, mysterious stranger from another planet and her former dance student were one and the same. Apparently he had found a home in Metropolis and someone precious to share his life with.

She touched the black and white newspaper photo with deep affection and whispered, "Your secret is safe with me, mon aimee ... you always did have a lovely smile..."

THE END

The following story –

“A T-shirt Revelation”

by – KatherineKent

was Nominated in the:

Best Revelation Story

and

Best New Author

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

A T-shirt Revelation

By KatherineKent <victoria@seekersrest.plus.com>

Rated: G

Submitted: September 2013

Summary: Lois feels it's time that Clark had one of these, and it's his birthday soon, so it's the perfect present. What will come to light when he wears it?

Acknowledgements and Comments

This idea came to me when my husband started wearing Superman t-shirts earlier in the year. He gradually acquired about 5 different t-shirts with pictures or logos on them. One day it occurred to me that a plain blue t-shirt with the logo on is obviously the real t-shirt of choice for Superman wannabees and what would happen if Lois caught a glimpse of Clark dressed in one. It's been months since then and I've struggled with getting this down and being happy with it. Thankfully I have two wonderful betas who kept asking me how it was going. I'd like to say an awesome thanks to KenJ for providing me with some superb scenes to use as flashbacks along with inserting real-life knowledge of the location for this story. Hopefully it will make you feel like you are really there. Thanks also to Cynthia (Morgana) for her comments and encouragement which are greatly appreciated.

Although this story was initially supposed to fulfil the revelation challenge for July it currently fulfils the Exotic Locale challenge for September.

^^^ indicates flashbacks

*** indicates scene changes or character POV changes

Character thoughts are in 'single quotation marks'

Disclaimer: Superman, Clark Kent, Lois Lane and all other character and place names are owned by DC Comics and/or *Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman*. I own nothing... except my fantasies--which frequently include Clark/Superman.

***

Part 1

Clark sneaked a sideways look at the woman 'shucking' out of her light, white cotton jacket. His heart flipped over at the sight of her tight, strappy top perfectly displaying all those parts of her body that he fantasised about each night. Well, all of the parts that were above the waist anyway. Below the waist... he refused to let his eyes wander there, fully aware that she was only wearing shorts.

He glanced around the beach and immediately took in the whole scene around him. Beautiful sandy beach, clear sky reflected in a crystal clear azure sea, other tourists putting out their blankets, deck chairs and beach umbrellas. He sighed in contentment. There was no more perfect place to spend today and no more perfect person to spend it with. When Perry had decided to send them both on a week-long conference to Pensacola, Florida he'd been overjoyed. A week with Lois, in the warm sun, away from work, was his idea of paradise. And the fact that it was to be in the winter, getting both of them away from the bitterly cold weather in Metropolis, was a real bonus.

He took in a deep breath and smiled. Behind them was the Hampton Inn, Pensacola Beach where the conference was taking place. This morning seminars had included a talk on removing redundancies in prose by Larry Edwards and the correct use of commas by someone with the unlikely name of Artemis. Both had actually been incredibly fascinating but Clark had still been itching to leave. His eyes had drifted to the clock far too often knowing that today's lectures were morning only. One thirty pm could not come around fast enough as far as he was concerned. Except both lectures had run over significantly and it was now almost mid-afternoon. He'd rushed Lois off immediately, before she could become captured by some post-lecture discussions, once Artemis had finally drawn to a close, and led them straight out onto the beach at the Hampton rather than walk back to the Holiday Inn.

Staying at one hotel while traveling on to another for the conference put Clark in mind of the flight here a few days ago. Lois' reactions at the check in desk had been memorable.

^^^

She was squinting at the boarding pass suspiciously. The trip had been arranged by the travel department and this was the first that Lois was seeing the itinerary. She questioned the clerk at the desk. "This says that we are going to Atlanta! I thought we were going to Pensacola, International Airport."

The clerk checked her monitor and replied with a friendly smile. "You are, but there is ahalf-hour layover and plane change in Atlanta."

"Layover and plane change?" Lois blurted out. "Why weren't we put on a non-stop flight?"

"There are no non-stop flights from Metropolis to Pensacola," replied the agent.

Lois was incredulous, a frown crinkling her forehead. "No non-stop flights to another *international* airport?"

"Your plane departs from gate D-33 in forty-five minutes," smiled the clerk, wisely choosing not to get into a discussion with the irate customer.

"Gee, thanks," came Lois' sarcastic reply. Turning to Clark she spoke in a resigned tone, "Let's go Clark, D-33. I *hope* we can find it without getting lost."

^^^

It had only taken Lois about three days to get over her surprise at the size of Pensacola airport and finally lose the last remnant of sarcasm: the same number of days it had taken to realise, once Perry has informed them of this trip, that Clark's birthday fell right in the middle of the conference week. For some reason she'd been especially put out by that, but Clark couldn't figure out if that was because she truly thought he wouldn't want to go to any seminars on his birthday, or that she didn't want to have to interrupt *her* seminars to spend any 'birthday' time with him.

Returning his concentration to his bag he knelt down and unfastened it. He laid out the red picnic blanket and then placed the bag at one corner, dropped his jacket at another, then slipped off his shoes to anchor a third point. He lowered himself down and waited for Lois to join him, or to make some indication of what she expected to happen.

The picnic lunch on the beach, although it was more like late afternoon, had been Clark's idea when he'd discovered that the conference was only a half-day on his birthday, but surprisingly, Lois had jumped at the suggestion. Her enthusiasm worried him rather than soothed his nerves, though. Lois was only ever this excited about something when she figured she was in charge and that everything would go her way. But Clark resolved to make the most of this chance. He was spending his birthday, on the beach in Pensacola, with the woman he loved more than life itself. He intended to romance her... in an extremely subtle, best friend/partner way and to that end he leaned over, as Lois slid down next to him, and pushed his hand into the pseudo picnic basket: his bag. It didn't take long to feel for the small bottle. He pulled it out then dived right back in for the plastic glasses.

Lois was removing her sandals as he unscrewed the bottle. She carefully placed them, side by side, on the fourth corner of the red blanket, then turned to face him.

"Clark, are we gonna... oh!" Her eyes widened when she saw him pouring out the wine. A grin came to her face, unbidden. "Clark. This is *your* birthday. You're not supposed to supply your own wine. That's for your friends to do."

He looked up and handed a glass over to her. "It's only a mini bottle, and I wanted this picnic to be special." As he proceeded to fill his own glass he looked over at her with a cheeky grin. "And I couldn't exactly leave the responsibility of the picnic basket up to you, could I?"

Immediately recognising Clark's banter for what it was, friendly affection, rather than taking offence, she countered in a mock-droll tone. "Not unless you think a trip to the hospital is an exciting birthday outing."

He laughed and then his face was lit up by his smile.

"To spending my birthday"--he raised his glass and put down the bottle--"with the most amazing reporter I know."

"In the world!" Lois corrected. Clark laughed and they raised their glasses together then sipped. Lois blinked a few times as she regarded Clark. Lifting her wine once more she spoke clearly. "To an amazing friend, who I hope has an amazing birthday." She grinned. "In fact... may it be just completely Super."

Clark blinked in shock. He hoped that his face didn't reflect the jump his heart had just made.

***

Lois lay back on the blanket and put her hands behind her head. She watched as Clark busied himself placing out more picnic items.

He hadn't yet mentioned the lack of a present or even card from her, but Clark was just that way. Spending his birthday with her would be the present as far as he was concerned. Lois smirked to herself. *'Boy is he naive. Naive and sweet and... wonderful.'* The smirk dropped from her face. He considered her cynical and thoughtless, the complete opposite of himself. She frowned. Plus it actually didn't bother him that she was this way. Well, she was determined to prove him wrong. The present she bought him was both hopeful and thoughtful. The symbol on it... well, it brought hope to the whole world, and she'd definitely thought long and hard about it, eventually coming to the conclusion that it fulfilled all criteria for the 'perfect' present:

1. He needed one.

2. Although he 'needed' one--in her opinion--it wasn't a boring household necessity, practical or plainly disappointing.

3. It reflected his personality, his aspirations, his loyalties and friends.

4. It also, secretly, reflected the way that she'd begun to think of him recently.

She cast her mind back to when the package had originally arrived.

^^^

Answering the door, Lois was momentarily shocked to see a delivery man rather than Clark. She panicked that, somehow Clark would come round the corner, that very second, and see her taking delivery of his birthday present. Grabbing the parcel quickly she thanked the delivery man with a barely raised smile then turned away while closing the door quickly. She walked over to the table and made a space by pushing her paperwork to one side then placed it down.

All urgency was suddenly gone even though Clark could arrive at any time. Her heart pounded, partly with the thought of being caught, and partly with sudden worry over what was in the package. Was the ridiculous impulse she'd given into two days ago going to cause her joy... or pain? It had seemed so right. She'd giggled, she'd grinned and she'd been completely elated once she'd put down the phone after calling in the order to the fan club. But that mysterious subconscious guest called 'second guess' was making itself known. If Clark was offended, then she'd be disappointed... but only in her own ability to buy presents for her best friend, she convinced herself.

"Okay Lois," she said to herself. "You can do this. Once you open it you'll remember all thereasons you thought this was a good idea." She nodded. "No, a *great* idea."

Her hand swooped out, suddenly, and ripped at one edge of the brown packaging. Adrenaline surged through her muscles and she couldn't stop until she'd exposed the item inside fully. Heart racing and palms sweating, she then stepped back to admire the item. She couldn't stop the grin from overtaking her face.

"Oh, yes. It was definitely the right decision."

Laid out on the table in front of her was Clark's birthday present. Something she believed that he desperately needed, given his close, personal friendship with the superhero. An item he didn't seem to currently have, which was a complete surprise to Lois. She would have thought that all 'fans' of the man would have something like this, yet Clark didn't. It made no sense at all.

He was bound to love it. Something to show his loyalty, something to declare his hero-worship.

'*Something you can ogle him in and fantasize about!!!'*

"No!" she shouted to the voice teasing in her head as she stepped back to move away from the teasing item. "That is absolutely not a reason on the list of 'why this is the best present for Clark ever'." She shook her hand in the air; a finger pointing up at no one in particular.

She picked it up and carried it through to her bedroom where an open suitcase lay on the bed:advance preparation for next week's conference in Florida. She laid it on top of the other clothes and once more stepped away to admire the present. Reaching out she smiled and smoothed her hand over the blue fabric, tracing the red 'S'. "But, you could be right. I bet he'll look just 'Super' in this."

^^^

Bringing her mind back to the present and the sun baking down on her she looked over to Clark. If she gave him his present now, then he'd have to remove his top. She caught her breath at the image which flitted through her mind. He bent over to reach for something and his red beach shorts pulled tightly over his behind. Lois only just halted the moan in her throat before it spilled out. She gulped and closed her eyes. *'Okay, I admit it. One of the reasons for buying this present *was* because of all the fantasies it will inspire.'* She opened her eyes to find Clark looking at her.

"Hi," he smiled.

'*Okay, time to do this,'* she thought. Rolling over, she reached for her bag.

***

Clark was still smiling at Lois when she turned away. Somehow, even though he was basking directly in the sun, he was sure that Lois' presence was strengthening him more than the sun ever could. She turned back and levered herself up. The grin on her face hit him straight in the heart.

"Happy birthday, Clark," she said and held out a package. Clark hadn't noticed it when she'd turned back. He gave a little chuckle. How the heck he had missed that he had no idea, it wasn't exactly a tiny box.

"Lois, you know you didn't have to. I wasn't expecting anything from you. Just spending today with you is enough."

She laughed. "Just as I thought... farm boy."

His shy look sent her into further peals of laughter. At his obvious confusion she brought her hand to her mouth and tried to get herself under control. "Sorry," she said, embarrassed. Clark looked down at the present wrapped in shiny blue and silver paper currently resting on his crossed legs. The soft, flexible feeling had him sure that it was going to be a blanket or something similar: maybe a tablecloth, although it would have to be particularly small! Possibly it was a scarf, useful once they were back in Metropolis. Anticipation filled his stomach as he began to open it. A bright royal blue colour was revealed and Clark slid out the soft item. As he began to unfold it more colours appeared. His anticipation turned to apprehension. When the yellow and red was finally in view it revealed the recognisable shield of his superhero alter ego. A stab of fear hit his chest and he flashed back to an incident at the airport on the way here a few days ago.

^^^

Sitting in the car, traffic backed up for what looked like blocks up ahead, Lois slapped at the wheel in frustration. "This is just great. We should have allowed more time to get to the airport. This stupid rain is going to tie up traffic for too long! It's never gonna clear in time. Or is it snow? It could at least make up its mind instead of dithering between the two."

Clark laughed. "Look at it this way Lois, we are leaving all of this behind! We are headed for the 'land of sun and fun', Florida!"

"Yeah, if we can make it," she replied cynically.

The traffic began to clear and the snow finally gave up and became rain. Reaching the airport only half an hour later than expected, but still in time for check-in, Lois slid her Jeep into a space in the long-term parking lot. Clark carried all of the luggage while Lois ran for the covered walkway to the terminal holding her bag over her head. After she was under the cover she stopped and turned, looking back at Clark. She watched as his wet coat became soaked and his pant legs soaked up all the water from the puddles along the way.

When he was finally under the cover Lois laughed up at him. "Clark, how can you see?" she smiled and shook her head then reached for his face and snatched his glasses off. "Here, let me dry your glasses for you."

Panic set in immediately. His hair, plastered down against his head, and without his glasses...was sure to give the game away. He dropped the luggage in an attempt to stop her but it was too late. He was soon relieved to see that she was more concerned with finding a dry spot on the hem of her jacket to wipe his lenses with, than what he looked like without them. His heart beat wildly as he waited for her to notice. He ran his hands through his hair to ruffle it up, distancing his current look as far as was possible from Superman. He then resolved to just take his chances and he simply stood there waiting.

Lois held up his glasses to study them and, once she was satisfied that they were dry, she held them in both hands and carefully placed them back over his eyes. "There, now it won't be like you're looking through a waterfall." Glancing at her watch she started and then grabbed one shoulder bag leaving the rest for Clark again. "Oh, come on, Clark, we need to get to the ticket counter and pick up our boarding passes. We have to hurry, or we will miss our flight!" She set off at a rapid pace toward the registration desks.

^^^

Had that been what gave him away? For sure this was her way of being angry with him, calling him out for his year-long deception. He looked up at Lois in terror. She was grinning at him. Possibly this was not what he initially feared.

"Oh, come on Clark, it's not such an odd thing to give you," she chattered, obviously misinterpreting the look on his face. "I'm actually surprised you don't have one already. I mean he is your best friend, or is that *you* are *his*? I know he and I are close, but I think you and he are closer. I guess that's 'cause you are both guys. Anyway I know you admire him. I'm sure there's even a little hero worship in there. So I don't understand why you don't already have a Superman t-shirt. I do. And you saw my pyjamas." Lois' voice, although she continued to speak, faded away and Clark was suddenly back in their hotel room on the first night of the conference.

^^^

They spent most of the first night in their room watching an old sci-fi movie making fun of the terrible B-movie cliches the whole time. Lois constantly pointed out how Superman could have saved the day and Clark pointed out the scientific principles violated in the plot. When the movie, along with Lois' ice cream, was finished Clark offered Lois first use of the bathroom. She got up and rummaged in her bag pulling out her pajamas, toothbrush and toothpaste then headed for the bathroom.

A short time after the door closed Clark heard the shower start. Waiting for his turn in the bathroom he couldn't help but think about what might be going on behind that door. His super-hearing picked up on every sigh and giggle making him wonder just what was passing through her mind while she showered. He loosed the restraint on his fantasies and imagined being allowed to join her. He would scrub her back, wash her hair, maybe even soap up her body. He imagined running his fingers through those wet dark tresses. Suddenly the door opened and Lois exited wearing a robe.

Clark nearly jumped in shock. He gulped, turned away from the enticing sight of the woman he loved and then stood, reaching for his towel. As he strode across the room he noticed Lois taking off her robe. When his peripheral vision caught sight of bright blue and a familiar symbol in red and yellow he turned in surprise. She tried to hide what she was wearing by climbing under the covers as quickly as possible, but it was too late, he had seen her.

He turned to her and chuckled. "Lois!" he said, "I can't believe it! Superman pyjamas?"

She gave him a smug look and said, "Almost everyone has a Superman souvenir of some sort. Don't you?"

He shook his head in the negative.

"I can't believe that you don't," she replied, her tone indicating that she did know it was the truth, but couldn't understand why. "He's your best friend and you don't have something with a Superman logo?" As she finished she arched her brow.

He replied matter-of-factly, "Nope. Nothing."

^^^

As Clark returned his consciousness to the beach Lois' voice became clear again. "Plus I also have a baseball cap, a mug, a throw cushion and this little squishy thing that kind of dangles off the bottom of my bathroom light switch. So I bought you this because I think you should declare your support for him to the world." When her rant finally trailed off he laughed delightedly.

He wasn't in any trouble after all.

He grinned and looked down at the item in question and his face dropped as it suddenly hit him.

Oh yes he was.

***

Part 2

"So, go ahead. Try it on." Her teasing, lighthearted voice clashed with his worry.

'*I can't possibly put this on. Far too dangerous.'* When he saw the innocent, expectant look on her face he swallowed his fear. Reaching for the bottom of his t-shirt he grasped and then pulled, sweeping it over his head. He heard her gasp and his heart skipped a beat. Glancing over at her while he reached for the new t-shirt he watched her carefully. Her mouth was parted from her gasp and her breathing was shallow. He listened in to her heart and discovered that it was racing. His heartbeat kicked up in sudden hope. Possibly she finally saw him as something more than just a partner and a friend.

He slipped the new t-shirt over his head, pulled it down and quickly adjusted his glasses. It stretched tightly over his chest. "Didn't exactly get my size right there, Lois," he teased looking down. Lifting his head, his gaze met hers.

"Yeah. I uh... I'm sorry," she replied by rote, staring straight at his chest. He got a sudden suspicion that she wasn't sorry at all.

'*Okay, something is definitely going on here,'* he thought to himself.

Lois' gaze finally left his chest and travelled up to his face where her eyes widened considerably. He saw her mouth drop open and the fear returned. She blinked and shook her head then smiled at him, forgetting that only a moment ago she'd agreed with him on the t-shirt being too tight. "Perfect," she stated in a lighthearted tone.

'*Except for it being as tight as my suit which is probably not a good idea,'* he thought.

"Thanks," he smiled at her, maintaining his calm as well as he could. "So," he paused and just let himself gaze at her for a second. "Sandwich?" he finally asked.

"Sure," she nodded.

***

Lois finished off the sandwich, wiped the crumbs from her hand and laid herself back onto the blanket. Gazing up at the clear sky she idly wondered what it might be like to fly through that beautiful sky. Somehow her imagination had nothing in common with the actual memory of coming in to land a few days ago. She felt the breeze whipping through her hair as she soared over the Gulf of Mexico. Below her were the islands, the sandy beach far ahead.

^^^

"... we will be landing shortly. Please remain seated and thank you for flying with us." Lois looked up to see the seatbelt light flashing on. Glancing to Clark she saw that he was already strapped in. *'Typical of Clark and his Boy Scout ways,'* she thought.

She turned to look out of the window. Tricking Clark into giving it to her had been a breeze. The plane banked and brought into view the Gulf of Mexico. Lois was treated to the sight of blue-green waters and just a glimpse of barrier islands. She continued to watch as the plane executed a 180-degree turn and headed back toward land. She continued to see mostly water and then suddenly, directly below, there was land and a lot of personal dwellings. In only two minutes they were on the ground and taxiing toward a small building.

^^^

Strong arms held her. The sun warmed her, countering the cool air in the stratosphere. Looking down she saw the shore. White sand beckoning, if he would only just float them down to land.

"Help," the shout rose from the direction of the sea and Lois emerged from her fantasy. She sat up abruptly and sheltered her eyes against the sun. She glanced at Clark who was suddenly standing over her. He turned towards her, a look of horror on his face. The call came again. He turned away from her and began running in the direction of the surf. Lois slowly got to her feet, watching in fascination as Clark sprinted to the water's edge. Lois knew her heart was in her mouth as she finally spotted the person floundering out at sea. Looking around, Lois realised that there were no lifeguards on duty. Thank goodness Clark was a

fast runner. She only hoped he was just as good at swimming.

When he dove into the surf Lois held her breath and took an involuntary step forward. When he surfaced next to the young girl in trouble, only a moment later, she let out the breath and began walking towards the shore line. She watched as he swam back slowly. In comparison to how quickly he got out there it seemed ridiculously slow. When he reached a reasonable depth he placed his feet to the ocean floor, hitched the girl into his arms, cradling her close, and began striding out of the water.

Lois was overwhelmed by a feeling she would almost name déjà vu when Clark's chest began to appear. The 'S' symbol, the rescue position, the red shorts. It was only when she returned her gaze to his face that she remembered it was Clark. Somehow he'd managed to keep his glasses on his face and his hair was plastered flat to his forehead, tangling over his glasses.

The girl's parents splashed into the surf when he got nearer and Clark handed her over to the man holding out his arms. Lois watched as Clark shook his head to the couple at whatever thanks they were giving, smiled shyly then turned away,

As he approached her, 'the handsome hero', her heart hammered wildly. He ran his hand through his wet hair and ruffled it even more. When he stopped in front of her he smiled. "Hi," he said.

"Uh, hi," she replied.

"You okay, Lois?" he asked and frowned in query.

"Me?" she retorted. "Are you okay, Clark? You...you dived in there and disappeared under the waves for..." she stopped and thought then frowned in confusion. "Less than a second... how did you get to her so fast?"

"Oh, you know, Lois. Time always flows funny in a tense situation."

"Yes, but..." she trailed off but continued the thought in her head. *'It's usually the other way round. Things that only last a couple of seconds seem to last a minute.'*

"Anyway, I think it's time for a birthday ice cream," Clark grinned in an attempt to distract her from his speedy swimming. He began to walk in the direction of their picnic. Lois turned around to follow but was immediately struck by a sight that she knew would enter her fantasies from now on. The well-defined shape of Clark's body was on clear display with his soaking t-shirt and shorts. Lois was treated to a few moment of watching the most perfect backside in the world walk away from her. *'More perfect than Superman's,'* she stated as fact.*'Although it's hard to tell: his cape usually being in the way*.*'* Lois paused for a moment in her thoughts. Clark's behaviour, the rescue, the outfit... She shook her head and finally came to her senses then set off up the beach after Clark.

Once Clark's Superman t-shirt had dried Lois was again reminded of how tight it was. The water obviously made it cling but it continued to show every muscle and ripple even when dry. She lay herself down on the sand and closed her eyes. Yes, her fantasies were definitely getting lots of inspiration today. During one embarrassing private thought she finally admitted to herself what was really going on. *'I'm trying to turn the two most wonderful men in the world into one man. And rather than taking Superman and putting him in normal clothes--which I might have done up to a few months ago--I'm starting with Clark... the one that I really... well, starting with Clark and turning him into the superhero.'* She sighed. *'And he's fitting the role perfectly. As if he were born for it.'*

"So." Clark's voice interrupted her reverie. "Are you ready to head back?"

"Sure... if you are." She kept her eyes closed, just wanting to linger on the beach for a couple more seconds.

"I could go for a nice leisurely stroll back to the hotel," Clark suggested obviously referring to the reasonably short distance between the conference centre and their hotel.

^^^

"First thing we need to do is find the hotel and check in." Lois said.

Checking their itinerary, Clark said, "Travel booked us at a Holiday Inn on Ft. Pickens Road in Gulf Breeze." He fumbled with the map a bit. "There it is. Okay, go straight out on Airport Road and make a left on 9th Avenue. You can't miss it, there appears to be a large mall on the corner. We take that to Chase Street. That will take us over a bridge and into Gulf Breeze, but we have to go across another bridge to the barrier island. The motel is on Pensacola Beach."

As Lois drove, Clark regaled her with some trivia. "Seeing that name reminded me of something. I was sure that Pensacola was famous for something. Fort Pickens... It was used as a prison at one time, right after the Indian wars; Sitting Bull was imprisoned there. According to the map, the prison is just down the road from the motel. Maybe we will have time to go out there."

"Why would I want to go see an old pile of stone? I see the insides of Metropolis prison enough when we send crooks there or have to visit someone for an interview."

"Aw, come on Lois, it's history!" Clark challenged.

^^^

Lois opened her eyes to see the sun setting over the ocean. It had gotten late. It was nowearly evening. She turned her head to the side to find Clark. His position on the blanket reflected hers perfectly but had the added extra of an irresistible smile. "Sounds nice," she smiled back at him. "As long as you don't walk us past the hotel and on to that prison you're desperate to visit."

"I promise," he grinned. "I'll pack up the picnic. You get your shoes and jacket." Clark levered himself up and collected together their plates, cups, boxes and rubbish. By the time Lois was standing with her thin cotton jacket around her waist, Clark was picking up the large red picnic blanket they had been lying on. When he held it out and shook it vigorously to dislodge all the sand Lois' mind fixated on it. One final thing was needed to perfect her 'Clark as Superman' fantasy. She knew she was having difficulty keeping the sly grin from her face immediately.

"I'll fold that Clark. You need to get your shoes yet." She reached out and took the blanket from him before he could protest.

***

Clark recognised the inflection in Lois' voice as the 'I'm planning something' tone. He eyed her warily as she began folding the blanket. When nothing seemed to happen he turned to pick up his shoes then set off back towards the road. After they crossed the low grassy dunes and entered the large hotel parking lot he disposed of their empty wrappers and unfinished food in the waste receptacle. Brushing the sand off their feet they slipped on their shoes and Lois picked the blanket back up from the sidewalk. Hanging it over one arm she took Clark's and linked it with her other.

Leaving the beach behind Clark remembered the unexpected reaction from Lois at their first walk out onto the beach at their own hotel on the first morning.

^^^

Leaving the hotel it was only a short walk to the end of the parking lot and to the beach access. They ascended some steps, crossed a dune and descended down the other side. At the bottom Lois stopped and placed her hands on her hips. "I thought we came down here to get away from the snow."

Clark laughed. "It may be white as snow, but trust me, it's sand."

"This is the whitest sand I think I've ever seen," she replied with a tone of wonder creeping into her voice.

"According to the brochure, Pensacola Beach is famous for its white, white sand."

Walking a short distance, the early morning sun warming him softly, he had to resist the natural impulse to reach out and weave his fingers into Lois'. She was walking so close that he could feel as the soft hairs on her arm brushed against his.

"Oh look," she suddenly spoke. "What kind of creature made those?" She pointed to the small mounds of sand surrounding holes in the sand. "They aren't anaconda holes, are they?" she said, stepping back when the thought hit her.

Clark chuckled. "The anaconda is native to South America, Lois."

Lois hmphed. "You and your trivia," she interrupted

He continued, ignoring her jest. "Those are probably sand crab holes."

^^^

Clark brought his picnic bag up to his shoulder and they crossed the parking lot, heading for the main road. As they strolled along, slowly heading in the direction of their hotel, Clark ran over the events of the afternoon in his mind.

Firstly, the t-shirt. He'd been afraid that she was about to lay into him dramatically, but when it turned out that it really was just a gift his relief had been immediate. That only lasted a second though, once he realised that it actually still might give away his secret.

Secondly, Clark had seen the way Lois had been looking at him. Half the time she seemed confused, the other half she was practically drooling. He was well aware of the unique physique he had and its effect on the female population in general, but Lois was not one to be interested in a 'body' unless she was also interested in the 'person'. Even when she had a crush on Superman it was more hero-worship than lustful desire, at least until she *did* know the superhero as much as was actually possible for a make-believe character. Once a true friendship began between her and his alter ego the hero-worship had turned... extremely romantic.

Slowly... Clark began to reach the conclusion that possibly Lois was interested in *him*... Clark... romantically, or at least if the idea had never crossed her conscious mind before, then if it did now, she wouldn't immediately discount the possibility. That was all still hoping that the idea would actually ever occur to her.

As they strolled along Clark offered to carry the blanket and was rewarded with a horrified look.

"No!" she shouted back and held it tighter to her body.

"All right," he soothed. "You can keep the blanket if it means that much to you."

Walking along the Casino Beach Boardwalk, side by side, Clark gave thanks for the unseasonably warm weather. February in Pensacola was expected to be reasonably warm, but this was wonderful. The opportunity to share an... almost... romantic picnic on the beach with Lois gave him the perfect birthday. With her arms still linked in his he could almost imagine that they were a couple. For a moment or two he let himself indulge in that fantasy.

Reaching the main road he felt an awkward pulling on his arm. He turned to see Lois climbing up onto a metal crash barrier at the edge of the road. About a foot high it followed the length of the road round the oncoming curve and Lois seemed to want to walk on it. Her girlish giggles put him in mind of a happy six year old returning from a day building sandcastles and splashing in the surf. As she tottered along the barrier he grinned and sighed in contentment, looking up into the dimming evening sky.

"Superman," came the call from behind him and he swiveled around in shock. "Help!" Lois called then leapt off the barrier. His instinctive reaction was to catch her. She slid her arms round his neck automatically. He looked down to her face and she must have seen the terror showing on his, but as before she misinterpreted it. "Oh, Clark, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shock you. I just couldn't resist." She giggled at him and he shifted his hold on her slightly, bringing her closer to his chest. Caught in her eyes he felt his heart racing. It seemed Lois was caught in the gaze too and her lips parted on a breath. Gradually a look of confusion stole over her face and she flicked her eyes round his face and then down to his chest. Clark suddenly felt in danger again and quickly put her down.

"So, how did I rate as a superhero?" he asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"You were..." she paused and looked up at him. A smirk appeared and she continued. "Super." He grinned at the compliment. "But you were no Super*man*." She laughed and put her hand on his chest, patting him in jest.

"I guess not," he laughed back.

A little later they made it back to the hotel. Clark entered the room first, Lois following. "I'll just put this stuff away then make us a drink, all right Lois?" he asked as he put his bag down on the bed and unwrapped his coat from his waist. He headed for the small table and drinks area aiming to put on the coffee. "Just put the picnic blanket down on the table," he called out to Lois.

"Oh, I don't think so," came the sultry reply, but before he could turn he felt two hands dive over his shoulders and tuck something into his t-shirt. He twisted round in shock and then looked over his shoulder to see the red blanket hanging down his back like a... cape.

***

Part 3

He gulped and looked back to Lois. Her grin was totally unexpected. He was sure he wouldsee accusation, triumph, anger or any of a multitude of other things designed to show him that she'd beaten him, she'd figured him out and today had been all about torturing him. But there was just joy on her face. She still didn't know. Was Clark so completely ordinary that, even dressed like this, Lois couldn't see the truth? But as he watched carefully her face dropped, joy being replaced by confusion.

Suddenly her hands shot up and she ripped away his glasses. They immediately dropped from her fingers and one hand came up to cover her trembling mouth. She turned away. Clark raised one hand and reached out for her shaking shoulder. He almost touched her as he reached to rest his palm on her arm in comfort but just before the final contact he heard her whisper. "I've been made a fool of by the man I love." Barely heard, even for his super ears, he caught his breath in shock. Reaching out again he missed touching her as she raced for the door. He sped there ahead of her and put his hand on the door handle.

"Let me out," she breathed.

"Please don't go Lois," he asked.

"Let... me... out. You can't keep me here, no matter the size of your super-biceps," she growled at him. Her eyes met his and he saw anger and pain. Stepping back he gave her room and her hand reached for the handle.

"Please, Lois." His voice was now a pleading whisper. "Don't go."

She turned to look back at him as she pulled the door open. The pain in his heart spilled out and he felt a tear track down his cheek. She turned away from him, ignoring his pleas and his pain. When the door slammed shut behind her he collapsed against it.

***

Lois raced down the corridor and headed for the stairs. Stopping to wait for the elevator was out of the question. 'Please, Lois,' the ethereal voice played in her mind as she reached the ground floor. 'Don't go.' But rather then invoke her pity or forgiveness it increased her ire. As she stormed passed the desk on her way to exit the hotel, memories of checking in did nothing at all to help her disposition.

^^^

Lois leaned forwards onto the counter. The young woman behind the desk was nervously explaining the situation. "Yes, miss, I understand, but this is the peak of the tourist season. We are fully booked. When the reservation came through it was the only room we had left."

"You're telling me that we have to *share* the room?"

"I'm afraid so, unless we get a cancellation." The eager-to-please girl smiled as understandingly as she could. "If we do I will notify you immediately. Plus it is a twin room," she rushed out in a conciliatory attempt.

Lois turned on Clark as she whipped the two key card from the desk. "Well, if this doesn't beat all. At least the last time we had to share, it was the honeymoon suite at the Lexor."

The young clerk, overhearing part of what she had said, and desperate to please the customers spoke up again. "Oh, I didn't know you were honeymooners! I will have a complimentary bottle of champagne sent up to your room immediately." She turned and began to scribble a note on the pad beside her.

Lois turned back and laid an incredulous look on the lady. "If we were honeymooners then why would we want separate rooms? We're partners."

The clerk blinked in confusion, not getting where the conversation was going. "Oh domestic partners. I understand. So this isn't really a honeymoon."

Lois felt her temper rising further. She replied, perhaps a little more sharply that she necessary. "No! We definitely are *not* domestic partners. Look, we both work for the*Daily Planet* and we are *writing* partners. We are here for the conference being held at the Hampton Inn." She turned back to Clark briefly and muttered under her breath. "Why travel couldn't have just booked us in there to save all this hassle I don't know."

The flustered clerk began to blush. "But, I heard you say that you were in the honeymoon suite."

Lois rolled her eyes. "We were undercover."

The blush deepened and the young, embarrassed woman lowered her head. "Well, uh, I guess that's what the honeymoon suite is for. Lots of time under the covers."

If looks could kill, the clerk would have died a thousand deaths in that moment. "Not 'under the covers'. Undercover! We were on a stakeout. You know... spying on the bad guys."

The clerk's head came up, her mouth dropped open and she looked back and forth between Lois and Clark. "But... but... you two... I thought..."

"What? What did you think?" Lois replied as she tilted her head to one side in mockery.

"Um, nothing. I apologise. Enjoy your stay."

"That's yet to be seen," Lois snorted then grabbed Clark's tie and started to drag him toward the elevator. "Let's go, Clark. I'm hungry and you're buying me dinner."

^^^

Leaving the lobby and emerging out into the cool night her raging anger did not fade, not even a little bit, when the air met her enflamed cheeks. She sped up her walk, determined to put as much distance between her and... him... as possible. As she quickened her pace she found herself jogging and then finally running.

'*It's not real. It can't be real,'* were the only thoughts repeating in her head. They went round and round. *'He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't let you act so foolishly.'* *'But he did,'* she replied to herself. *'And not just today, letting me give him the Superman t-shirt, he's done it every day since we met. Made a fool out of me.'*

After a while she found herself back at the entrance to the beach outside the Hampton Inn. "Scene of the crime," she chastised herself. The sun had set behind the ocean an hour ago and the sky was turning dark. "He didn't make a fool of you. You made a fool of yourself Lois," she voiced her thoughts, and the anger dissipated to be replaced by hurt and betrayal.

She began to stroll slowly over to the patch where they'd sat earlier. The look on Clark's face as she'd left suddenly invaded her mind. A tear had fallen down his cheek as he pleaded with her to stay. Those pleas had angered her as she left. Now they melted her heart. *'I don't think I've ever seen him cry before.'* she thought. *'For someone as full of love, friendship and compassion as him, how come I've never seen him cry?'* As the tears began to stream down her own face she closed her eyes. She resisted letting them turn into sobs but still they fell. Tilting her head back she opened her eyes to see the clear darkening evening sky, hoping for some serenity but instead she noticed a blur streak overhead.

"You're up there, aren't you?" she said, realizing immediately what that movement above her had been. Although the comment had actually been spoken to herself, quietly... rhetorically, she knew that he would be listening as well as watching. "I bet you never even got changed. That is so like you. You think it's your job to look after me. You think I can't possibly be all right by myself." She paused and sighed. "Or you just worry too much. I know you. You worry about everything don't you? You have this overdeveloped sense of responsibility. You feel that you have to fix everything; fix the world; fix me." The tears dried up as she began the catharsis of speaking her thoughts out loud. "Well, you can't fix me." She paused, unable to continue the lie. Clark had been 'fixing' her from the first moment they met; healing her heart, teaching her to trust, to care, to love. "You know, I wanted to give you the t-shirt because... because." Her breath shuddered. "Because... I've given up on my Superman fantasy. I have a new fantasy. But, something just came over me when I was looking for a present for your birthday and I got the wonderful idea of combining the two. Old and new. Superman fantasy and... Clark fantasy." There, she'd said it. She knew he was listening and there was no turning back now. "I wanted to turn you into my own personal Superman. You two are my... the only... I..." she faded off. "Argh," she shouted and waved her fist in the air. "You two mean everything to me. No one else in the world... and I just wanted to pretend that I could have both of you, just for a day." She looked down at the sand and began swishing at it with her toes. Her voice dropped in volume as she continued. "I had a lot of fun today. And seeing you turn into Superman one little bit at a time... I wanted you more and more." She smiled shyly. "When I saw the red blanket I knew I had my final piece. I considered wrapping it round you after you caught me at the barrier, but you looked at me in such a way. I thought you were, hoped you were, going to kiss me. I also got the weirdest sense of deja vu, which had been hitting me all afternoon. I guess I know why now. But, anyhow, I decided to wait. I decided that I'd let us get out of the open, safe back in the room, then I'd pounce on you with the 'cape'. You know, *I* was gonna kiss *you* then. I resolved to kiss you, to take a chance, and I was going to do it while you were dressed as Superman, to show you that I could think of you as Superman, that you could be *my* Superman."

She stopped swiping at the sand and looked back up to the sky, clasping her hands behind her back. "I'm mad at you." She breathed deeply. "And I'm mad at myself. You hurt me. You deceived me. I... I want to forgive you, but I just can't. Not without some kind of recompense from you. I need something."

A quiet voice came to her on the breeze, so quiet she wondered if she'd imagined it. "Anything."

***

"Anything? Really?" Clark listened from his position in the sky. "Well then. I guess, seeing as I feel such a fool, maybe you should too. Your next rescue has to be exactly as you are now." He saw Lois grin and his stomach dropped. "I know. You never got changed, you still have your red shorts on, the red picnic blanket cape, which is probably only dangling from one shoulder by now, and most of all, you are still wearing the t-shirt." He glanced at his shoulder. She was right. The blanket was only held in place on one side now. "So! Off you go. Rescue something, foil a robbery, anything. I'll be waiting. And once Superman has been seen in a less-than-perfect suit causing just that little bit of embarrassment, I'll forgive you."

As he listened to Lois giggling, obviously imagining the hilarious picture of him stopping a pile up on the freeway dressed in his pretend suit, he seriously considered swooping straight down to talk to her. She couldn't possibly mean for him to really show Superman to the world in this light? Yes, Clark would be embarrassed, but this would destroy respect for Superman the world over. Surely she was only teasing him, showing him how annoyed she was with him. Showing him how much work it would take to get through this. But then he realised what she'd said. 'Rescue something.' He shot off into the air searching the city for the scenario he had in his head. There was bound to be one. Surely. And if he did this then he could really prove himself to Lois. He would have done exactly as she asked, even though she didn't mean it because it was too dangerous for him in reality. He'd perform his next Superman feat dressed as Clarkman... or SuperClark... or... what could he call himself in this guise?

He found his intended target in under 30 seconds. Caught at the top of a tree in a small back garden the black and white kitten had obviously been too adventurous for its own good. "Kind of reminds me of someone else," Clark muttered with a smile on his face as he returned the feline to the ground. Now, the question was, how would he prove to Lois that he'd fulfilled her request, unless he showed her the kitten. She'd just have to believe him. But was that really a possibility at the moment. Would she ever believe anything he told her again?

***

While she waited to see if Clark would take her seriously she sat down and allowed the memories to overtake her. Memories of kisses, memories of unguarded looks. '*How did I not see it before?' *She felt foolish again. No matter how different the glasses and hair made him look, and she had to admit that was really only a passing resemblance between the two of them especially with the clothing change, she should have recognized his facial expressions. Both Clark and Superman looked at her with such hurt and hope, such longing... and such love. '*I've kissed both of them. How did I not notice the identical tingle when their lips touched mine: when *his* lips touched mine?'* And then came the memories of her behaviour. She'd always treated them differently, dramatically so to start with, and even now, when she no longer dismissed Clark, there were differences. Superman got her awe, Clark got her friendship... and, she finally accepted, they *both* got her love. She sighed as she came to her final conclusion.

"I'm a fool," she whispered to herself. A whoosh followed by a soft sound on the sand had her standing and turning. Looking up into his unobscured face, with natural wavy hair, her heart skipped about wildly. *'A fool in love with you.'*

"Lois," he began softly. She reached out her hand and grasped the piece of red material at his right shoulder. Tucking it in more securely she smiled. '*I was right. He didn't change, and it's only hanging by one corner now.'* She looked back up into his face again and the beginning of the song in her head came to her. *'A fool in love with you... Earth Angel.'*

"Lois, I'm so sorry." He spoke again. "I wanted to tell you... so badly, but I didn't know how. And this was never about keeping you in the dark, or not trusting you. Lois, I...."

"Shhh," she put her fingers up to his lips.

"I love you," he whispered past them.

She smiled up at him: a combination of Superman and Clark, combination of alien... angel... and Earth: Superman's face, Clark's expression, Superman's suit, Clark's clothes.

"Clark, my angel... Earth Angel."

"I did it. I did what you asked Lois." She saw the pain and the hope in his eyes. "I rescued a kitten from a tree dressed just like this. I know it's not much, but I'll do anything. Please forgive me, Lois. Please. After all... it is my birthday." He chuckled nervously at that last comment hoping she wouldn't think that he wasn't taking this seriously at all.

"I forgive you." The relief in his eyes, the way his shoulders relaxed back, was echoed in the smile which covered his face. "Clark, how could I not?"

He stepped forwards and her heart quickened in anticipation of the kiss she craved. Instead his head passed her and his arms surrounded her in a tight hug. She brought up her arms and encircled his chest, then buried her head in his neck. He wouldn't presume to kiss her. Not even now. She smiled. *'So like Clark.'*

"Earth angel, earth angel," she began to mumble into his shoulder. "Will you be mine? My darling dear, love you all the time. I'm just a fool," she felt his arms tense around her in anticipation. Did he expect her to say it, or did he expect her to stop. She drew back and looked into his warm, chocolate-coloured eyes. "A fool in love... with you."

The joy and shock on his face filled her heart with happiness. His eyes searched hers. She saw them flick down to her lips and his head twitched forward. *'He still can't do it. He still can't presume.'* She smiled and slid her hands round from his back to his chest and then up to his neck. As they linked behind his neck she pulled and his lips descended to meet hers. She felt his arms hold her tighter. His lips nibbled hers, gradually deepening the kiss. When her lips parted his immediately took advantage and her whole body vibrated with pleasure as she experienced the true level of passion that Clark Kent felt for Lois Lane. Her muffled thought processes vaguely compared the feeling to dream-like floating. Their lips parted for a moment giving her a chance to gain her breath and she let out a single breathy laugh when she realised why it had felt that way. Stars sparkled above her. They also sparkled far below her; the lights of Pensacola.

As Clark's soft, warm lips touched hers once again she thought back to the moment she'd finished packing her suitcase. Two thoughts in particular played over in her head. She'd warred over whether it was the right present to choose for her best friend. Just once or twice she'd played second guess with her decision. Zipping closed her suitcase she'd finally dispelled her worries.

^^^

"Oh, yes. It was definitely the right decision."

^^^

She'd also long since accepted the ulterior motive for this present too. She wanted to see Clark's bare chest again... and she wanted to see him dressed as Superman.

^^^

"I bet he'll look just 'Super' in this."

^^^

And she was sooooo right.

THE END

The following story –

“After Nightfall: The Return of Superman”

by – bobbart

was Nominated in the:

Best Long Story

and

Best Overall

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

After Nightfall: The Return of Superman

By bobbart -- Bob Bartholomew <bobbart_99@yahoo.com>

Rated: PG-13

Submitted: June 2013

Summary: This sequel to "When the Sky Falls" continues the story of Lois and Clark in the post-Nightfall world. Some old friends reappear, and we discover that more has changed in this world than Lois or Clark had realized.

Disclaimer: This is a fanfic based on the television show, *Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman*. I have no claim on the pre-existing characters whatsoever, nor am I profiting by their use. The new story elements are mine. No infringement is intended by this work.

This is a continuation of *When the Sky Falls*. Reading that work first will prove helpful, but much of Chapter 1 in this work is intended serve as an overview/refresher of that earlier story, so it should be possible to enjoy this story even without prior knowledge of WtSF.

***

Chapter 1: Reunion

Lois loved the smell of Clark's cooking. When she'd first seen him in Perry's office all those months ago, she'd made a series of judgments based on nothing more than his appearance. In some ways those judgments had been perfectly correct, but in others they had been amazingly wrong. She'd been correct in that he was fundamentally a "country boy." He'd been raised in a small town and had the manners to prove it. However, that first day she would have never guessed that he was an experienced world traveler and skilled chef.

"Honey, would you get the fennel seed?" Clark asked from across the kitchen.

"Sure," she replied. This was her primary duty in the kitchen. Clark cooked and she helped. In many ways it mirrored their relationship at work. There, she generally took the lead and Clark assisted her. Although, she had to admit that Clark was far more capable in the office than she was in the kitchen. She delivered the spice and collected a kiss from her husband in return. "Thank you," he said before he turned back to the skillet.

As she sat back down on the bar stool near the edge of the kitchen counter, she thought about how quickly things had changed these months. Although the widespread devastation wrought by the shattered Nightfall asteroid had been the most striking change for most of the world, she'd had her own set of more personal changes. Those all started with the appearance of Clark – and his alter ego Superman -- in her life. It seemed almost funny now to look back at her initial negative and dismissive reaction to the man -- the real version of the man -- who had become so critical to her happiness and well-being.

A knock on the door interrupted her muse. "I'll get it," she said as she stood and headed for the front door. When she opened the door, she was glad that she had a good grip on the doorknob. Standing just outside the door were Clark's parents. His supposedly dead parents.

"Lois, it's so good to see you. May we come in?" she heard in a slightly surprised, but friendly voice.

Lois stood in the doorway to her and Clark's apartment in stunned silence. Martha and Jonathan really were standing in front of her. They were alive!

"Martha, Jonathan, what are you doing alive?"

After a second or so, the shock wore off and Lois realized that they had no way to respond to her odd -- and probably rude -- question. She stepped forward and hugged Martha. "I'm so happy that you're OK," she said joyfully as she squeezed Martha to her.

After a few seconds, Lois sensed a certain level of discomfort -- or possibly confusion -- from her mother-in-law. She released the older woman, stepped back and glanced at Jonathan. "I'm glad to see you too, Jonathan." Then Lois took a second to gather herself. "After the Nightfall fragment destroyed Smallville, and then we didn't hear anything from you, we thought you were... well, dead."

They were both clearly confused and Lois realized that they were probably surprised at both her presence and the nature of her greeting. Martha seemed about to say something when she suddenly glanced over Lois' shoulder. "Clark?" Then Martha rushed past Lois and threw her arms around her son.

For a second or two Clark just stood there stiffly. Then he slowly lifted his arms and somewhat hesitantly returned Martha's embrace. Lois could see that Clark was very uncomfortable.

Martha finally seemed to realize that her son was acting oddly. She pulled back and looked up at Clark. "Clark, what's wrong?"

He just stared back at her blankly for a moment before turning to Lois for help.

She moved quickly to his side and took his hand in hers before turning to Martha. "Martha, I know this is going to be confusing, but Clark doesn't remember you."

As Martha's gaze jerked back to her son, Clark spoke to his mother for the first time. "That's not exactly correct," he explained. "I remember your face and I've looked at your pictures." Then his expression turned solemn. "I just don't remember anything about you."

Lois turned back to Jonathan who was still standing outside the door. "Please come in and we'll try to fill you in on the details," she said.

"Just a minute," Jonathan said. He looked past Lois to Clark. "Son, can we stay with you? From what we saw of the city, I think we'll have a hard time finding a hotel room."

Clark didn't hesitate at all this time. "Of course you can stay here. Things are better in Metropolis than they were right after Nightfall, but it's still nearly impossible to find a place to stay."

"Okay," Jonathan replied. "I need to get our luggage and tell Charlie that he can go."

"Charlie?" Clark asked.

"Charlie Irig. He's one of Wayne's nephews. That's where we've been all this time." Jonathan paused for a moment. "It's a long story. I'd like to let Charlie be on his way. He has about another hour's drive back to where he's going to stay the night. I have a feeling that the four of us are going to be spending a lot of time exchanging stories."

"You're probably right," Lois replied. "Do you think Charlie would like to come in for a few minutes?"

"I'll ask," Jonathan answered as he turned away from the door. "But he seemed pretty anxious to get back on the road. Son, can you give me a hand?" he asked Clark.

Clark hurried after his father. As the door closed, Lois remembered the partially prepared meal in the kitchen. "Excuse me for a second," she said to Martha as she headed for the kitchen. "Clark was making us dinner when you arrived. Let me make sure that he turned everything off."

Lois had expected Martha to follow her into the kitchen, but when she looked back she saw that Martha had remained standing in the doorway. A few seconds later, Martha opened the door as wide as it would go and held it as the men came in. Clark was loaded down with two large suitcases and Jonathan had two smaller ones.

"Charlie wouldn't stay?" Martha asked Jonathan.

"No. He was glad that Clark was okay but... well, you know how fidgety Charlie is. He was on his way practically as soon as the truck door was closed."

As they set the luggage aside, Lois returned from the kitchen. "That should keep for a while now," she said, looking at Clark. Then she turned toward the older couple. "Have you two eaten yet?"

"No. Not since lunch," Jonathan replied quickly. "We were anxious to get here."

"We had only started enough dinner for Clark and me," Lois said, waving her left hand in the general direction of the small kitchen. "But I'm sure Clark can come up with enough for all of us."

Lois turned back to find Martha staring at her outstretched arm. Martha's hand was covering her mouth. "Is something wrong?" Lois asked.

"You're wearing a wedding ring," Martha replied breathlessly.

Clark moved quickly to her side and put his arm around Lois's shoulders. "Lois and I have been married for a nearly a month."

"I'm sorry that we surprised you this way," Lois added.

Lois looked back and forth between Clark's parents. It was clear that this information stunned them. She wished she could tell if their reaction was positive or negative. After another second of silence, Lois decided to defend her position. "A lot has happened in the last few months," she said, squaring her shoulders. "I was really hoping we'd have your blessing."

Now it was Martha's turn to sweep forward and pull Lois into a hug. "Of course you do," she said elatedly. Martha held her for several long seconds before stepping back. There were tears running down the older woman's cheeks. And based on the crooked smile on Martha's lips, it was easy to see that they were tears of joy. "I'm so happy. I.. I was just so surprised. Clark has been... Well, from the first day he came to Metropolis, you were practically all he could talk about. I just didn't expect anything like this to happen so quickly."

Lois moved toward her and pulled the suddenly frail-feeling woman into another hug. This time there wasn't any discomfort at all. "I'm the lucky one," Lois said, feeling her own tears of joy starting to flow. "Clark is... He's better than I deserve. I love him so much."

They stood like that for several long seconds. Lois had never felt so much a part of a family as she did that moment. Martha's approval had meant a lot to her. But now Lois knew that even better than Martha's approval was her welcoming acceptance of her into their wonderful family.

When they finally separated, Lois found the men just standing quietly nearby. "Let's all sit down," she said as she reached out for Clark's hand to lead him into the living room. "We'll talk for a few minutes and then we can worry about some food. Will that be okay?" she asked, looking at Clark's parents.

Martha and Jonathan both nodded in reply.

"Clark, can you please bring us some water?" Lois requested.

"Speaking of water," Jonathan cut in, suddenly looking fidgety, "I need to use your bathroom."

As the men headed in opposite directions, Lois and Martha went to the living room. Lois sat on the couch and Martha sat in a chair right across from her. "I really am happy about you and Clark," she confided. "I had a feeling the first time we met in Smallville that you two had something special. I was afraid that because of Clark's--" Martha stopped suddenly.

To Lois, Martha suddenly looked afraid. It was as if she'd accidentally revealed some great secret. Then it hit her. Martha had to have been worried that Clark's secret would stand in the way. She decided to get that out of the way right now. "You were worried that Clark's secret -- the fact that he was Superman -- would be a problem?"

Martha's expression relaxed into a smile. "I'm so relieved that you know. I was half afraid that he might decide to do something crazy like proposing -- maybe even getting married -- without telling you."

"There's more truth in that than you know," Lois said with a cryptic smile.

"There's more truth in what?" Clark asked as he returned from the kitchen with four glasses of water.

"Your mom was worried that you might have proposed without telling me about Superman."

Clark smiled at the memory. "Well, my memory problems made that a little complicated."

At this point Jonathan returned. "What was complicated?" he asked.

"Dad, why don't you sit down and we can get down to the business of telling our stories," Clark suggested.

As Jonathan took the chair nearest Martha, Clark began. "How much do you know about what has happened since Nightfall?"

Martha glanced briefly at Jonathan before starting. "Not really very much. We've been isolated for all this time. There was a radio, but the only news we've heard was very general. We know that Lex Luthor was involved in trying to kill Superman."

"But you know about what supposedly happened to Superman?" Clark asked.

"You mean that Superman is supposed to be dead because of Luthor's Kryptonite gas trap?" Martha asked.

Clark nodded in reply.

"Of course," Martha replied solemnly. "At first we were scared to death that you really were dead. But then we heard the story of how Lois Lane and Clark Kent had found the evidence that exposed Luthor. By the way, did anyone ever catch Luthor?"

Lois shook her head. "No. Lex disappeared the night we discovered the evidence against him, and there's been no sign of him since."

Jonathan started to say something but checked himself. After a second Martha continued. "Anyway, we knew that Clark was alive but for some reason Superman remained dead."

"Well, I made it back from Nightfall, but Luthor's gas nearly did its job. It didn't kill me, but it took away my powers and destroyed most of my memories."

"That extra air supply didn't help?" Jonathan asked.

That got Lois's attention. "What extra air supply?"

Jonathan turned to Lois. "A few hours before he left on the Nightfall mission, Clark stopped at our place to tell us what he was going to do." Then he turned to Clark. "Son, you were nervous about the air and you wanted to have your own backup plan. You got this --" He concentrated for a second. "--rebreather device from a scientist you knew. You were going to carry that along in case something went wrong with your air supply."

Clark and Lois looked at each other for a minute. "That must be how you made it back," Lois offered.

"What do you mean?" Martha asked.

Lois turned to her mother-in-law. "When we first found him after the Nightfall mission, Clark didn't have his powers and couldn't remember being Superman," Lois explained. "He really didn't remember much about being Clark either. But he did retain enough of his general memory and reporting skills to help in the investigation into Superman's fate. Working together, we discovered that Luthor had booby-trapped the air supply in Superman's mission pack. When we started investigating Superman's disappearance, we found the official mission survival pack in the building where Clark turned up injured."

Lois stopped to take a sip of water, so Clark picked up the story. "At first we thought that I -- meaning Clark -- had been injured by leftover gas when Superman's support pack hit an abandoned building where I had been waiting to meet him. The scientists who analyzed the gas said that there was no way Superman could have survived the gas long enough for the flight back from Nightfall. All the evidence fit. Superman was dead and whatever knowledge I had about him was lost along with the rest of my memories."

"But if both your powers and memories are gone, how did you find out that you're Superman?"

"It's a long story," Clark replied. "The short version is that for a long time I -- we -- didn't know. I guess that it's clear that major memory loss is a side effect of the gas that Luthor used. I simply had no recollection of anything to do with Superman. In many ways, the Clark Kent that existed before Nightfall really did die in Luthor's attack."

"That's not true!" Lois interjected strongly, as she reached to Clark and took his hand in hers. "You're still the same person you were before. The Clark that I was starting to fall in love with is the same person who's sitting beside me now." After another second, she turned to Martha and Jonathan. "Clark's memories are mostly gone, but somehow he's still the same person. All those qualities that made Clark the special person you raised are still there."

Martha couldn't help but smile at the intensity of the feelings that Lois had showed for Clark in his moment of doubt. It was clear that a lot had happened in the short time since Nightfall. "If we keep interrupting, this will take forever. Why don't you give us the condensed version of what happened and we'll try to hold questions to the end," Martha suggested.

"That's probably for the best," Lois replied. "I'm sure we'll be filling you in on the details for a long time. So let me give you the super-brief version of what happened." She thought for a minute and then started. "Okay, we told you that after the Nightfall mission, Clark had almost total amnesia. He didn't even remember his own name, but somehow he did remember mine. The odd part of this amnesia is that even though his memories are gone, his feelings -- especially strong ones – are intact. Right after the Nightfall mission, it quickly became clear to me that Clark had been falling for me even faster than I had been falling for him."

She paused as Martha seemed about to say something, but ended up just nodding quietly.

"We tried to reach you before Nightfall hit, but we couldn't get through to Smallville," Lois continued. "Clark didn't want to stay home alone in his apartment, so he helped me at work. I certainly needed the help, and figured that it would help stimulate his memory. Then my apartment was destroyed the night Nightfall hit. With so much of Metropolis devastated, everyon e was looking for a place to stay."

Lois paused to compose herself for this next part. "Well, Clark invited me to stay with him," she said. "It was all very proper," she added quickly. "Clark even built a wall that isolated the sleeping space into a separate room for me, so that this place was like a small two-bedroom apartment." Lois had been watching for some sign of rebuke from either of Clark's parents, but they seemed to take these living arrangements in stride. "We lived like that for a few weeks. We were investigating Superman's fate and getting to know each other even better than we had before. Then one night Clark asked me to marry him. At first I was in shock, but it didn't take me long to realize that he was the best thing that's ever happened to me. I also admitted to myself that I was as in love with him as he was with me. We got married the next day, and I've never been happier."

Clark's parents were now holding hands. It seemed clear that they had been touched by the story of their romance. After another few seconds Martha asked, "So if Clark lost all his powers, how and when did you find out about his... other job?"

"That's why it was funny that you thought Clark might ask me to marry him without telling me about that part of his life. In truth that's exactly what happened. We got married still thinking that Superman had died trying to make it back from Nightfall. We'd been married nearly a week when Clark's special abilities started coming back. Our guess was that whatever gives him his powers had to heal from the exposure to Luthor's Kryptonite gas."

"That must have been something of a shock." Jonathan said in a wry tone. "I mean discovering that you were married to Superman."

Lois paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. "From the first moment Superman saved me in the space transport and then flew me back to the Daily Planet, I knew that there was something between us. Now I know why. Of course, I'm not married to Superman, I'm married to Clark." Lois leaned over and kissed her husband.

Then she turned back to them. "The one piece that didn't fit was how Clark had been able to make it back from Nightfall. We knew that the gas had been triggered just as he reached the asteroid. As I said, several good scientists have analyzed the gas and there was simply no way that Superman could have made it back without either suffocating or breathing enough of that gas to kill him. He clearly did make it back, but until now, we couldn't understand how."

"Clark, you must have switched to your backup air supply as soon as you realized you were being poisoned," Martha said.

"I guess that must be right," he said doubtfully. "I just don't remember. I know that I -- as Superman -- went on the Nightfall mission, but I have no recollection of it at all."

"At least that clears up one thing we didn't understand," Lois continued. "And I think that covers the most basic elements of how Clark and I ended up where we are. He lost his memory, but not his feelings or personality as a result of the Nightfall mission. The disruption after Nightfall threw us together more than ever before, and we came to realize how great we were for each other. It was only after we got married, when his powers started to return, that we discovered that Clark had been Superman."

"So, do we get to hear your Nightfall survival story?" Clark asked his parents.

Martha and Jonathan glanced at each other. Very quickly, Jonathan nodded at Martha in a way that clearly meant, "You go first."

Martha turned to the younger couple. "We started getting ready to head this way right after Clark left our house the day of the Nightfall mission. We weren't sure what was going to happen, but we wanted to be here in case he needed us. It took a few hours to get the farm ready to leave, and by the time we were done we had already seen the official announcement about the Nightfall mission. We had planned to stop by Wayne's place and ask him to keep an eye on our farm while we were gone." Then Martha turned to her husband. "Why don't you pick it up from here?"

"When I got to Wayne's place," Jonathan continued, "I found that he was also getting ready to leave. Clark, do you remember Wayne at all?"

"No," Clark replied. "I know who he is because of the article that Lois wrote when Bureau 39 took over his farm. I read everything that I could to try to recover my memories. I don't remember him, but I know what Lois wrote."

"Well, Wayne's family comes from West Virginia. Much of his family is very clannish, and in times of crisis they tend to all come together. One of the elders of the family had a premonition that Nightfall was going to go badly and put out a call for the family to come home."

"Home?" Lois asked.

"They have these family rules," Martha answered. "When one of the senior elders calls the family together, they all gather at the traditional family lands. They own a whole valley in eastern West Virginia. It's very isolated and the people that live in the area all have roots going back several generations. It's always been the place that their family pulls back to in times of crisis. Anyway, since Wayne was heading east, we decided to drive most of the way together. We figured that we might run into a situation where help would come in handy."

Jonathan picked up the story again. "It was a good thing that we did, because just east of Columbus, Ohio, we got hit by a car. It was after dark and we were just minding our own business when this car came flying up behind us. We were on a divided highway and I kept expecting the car to change lanes. Well, the driver must have been even drowsier than us, because they didn't even try to change lanes until the last possible second. By then it was too late and they clipped the rear of the truck. The impact knocked us into a spin and we ended up on the side of the road. It was a good thing that Wayne was with us. The other car kept going, but Wayne stayed with us until a tow truck came by. We ended up at a garage and, well, our truck wasn't totaled, but it was close. It was clear that the damage would take days to fix. With Nightfall on its way, we didn't feel that we could wait. We were trying to figure out what to do when Wayne offered us a ride to his family's place. The idea was to get there and then get a ride with one of the family to Metropolis."

"We didn't know what else to do," Martha interjected. "We really wanted to get here, but there just wasn't any other way. By that time, your Nightfall mission had failed and no one would rent or sell us a car. We thought about looking into something public, like an airplane or bus, but we were a long way from any of those places and all the news reports made it look like we wouldn't have any luck. We decided that, as much as we wanted to get to Metropolis, it would be a mistake to become separated from Wayne. He had a truck that worked and room for us. With things the way they were, we were afraid that we'd be stuck in Ohio. We reached the Irig place in West Virginia the next afternoon. There was no way we could get out that day, so we hoped that we'd be able to get a ride to Metropolis the next morning. Obviously, it didn't turn out that way. The family elders had already decided that no one should leave until after Nightfall hit. We were free to go, but no family member, not even Wayne, could give us a ride. It was very frustrating, but at that point, we figured what it would only be another day or so."

Martha paused to take a sip of water, so Jonathan took over again. "What we didn't count on was how bad the Nightfall pounding would be. The deep narrow valley did its job and shielded us from the worst of the hits. The hilltops around us took a beating, but very few of the fragments made it down into the valley. No one was injured, but we didn't come away unscathed. Their two-way radio was taken out by one of the impacts. Another hit destroyed the bridge that was the only way to drive in and out of the valley. We were safe, but there was no way to communicate with the outside world and no way to leave. The family started repairing the bridge the day after the Nightfall impact, but it was only opened a couple of days ago. We had enough regular radios that we had a pretty good idea of the state of the world, but we were missing all the details."

"So what did you know about Metropolis?" Lois asked.

"We knew it hadn't been hit too hard," Martha explained. "We heard that some buildings had been destroyed, but like some other cities, it came through better than expected. Since we knew that you were alive, once the bridge was open and some of the younger family members had been out enough to make sure that what we'd heard on the radio was correct, we started asking about getting a ride. It turned out to be easier than we thought. To be honest, I think they were happy to have us non-family out of their valley. In any case there was no problem getting a ride."

There were a few seconds of silence when Clark spoke up . "Well, I'm sorry that my memory is probably going to make our reunion more challenging. But I -- we -- are really happy that you're okay and especially that you're alive. We still have a lot to do this evening but first we need to do something about dinner. Then we can get you settled in. Lois and I don't have the dividers that we used to convert this to a two-bedroom apartment, but it shouldn't be too hard to set all that up again tomorrow. So..., what would you like for dinner?"

Chapter 2: Directions

The door of the elevator carrying Lois and Clark opened to reveal that the main news floor at the Planet was as busy as ever. Many elements of the newspaper had changed after Nightfall, but one interaction had remained constant through it all. Just down from the elevator landing, Perry was bellowing at Jimmy.

"What kind of pictures are these?" Perry demanded while shaking a pile of photos in the face of the young photographer/fledgling reporter.

Clark was about to say good morning when Lois pulled him back. She wanted to see how this was going to play out. Clark paused, then they exited the elevator together quietly. They stopped and watched the exchange from a distance.

"Those are the new pictures out of Washington DC," Jimmy replied confidently. "I thought this was what you wanted when you sent Paul and me there for the shoot."

"For Elvis' sake, son. Of course I wanted pictures. But these pictures don't show me anything other than destroyed monuments. You know we're trying to balance our reporting and stay away from the sensationalist disaster stories that the other guys are using. I've only said that just about every day since this all started."

Just a few months ago Perry's challenge would have had Jimmy in full retreat. But the stresses and additional responsibilities that the young reporter had dealt with during Nightfall had matured him. Now he had the confidence to trust his judgment. "Chief, did you read the note that was attached to those photos."

"It said, 'DC Photos.'"

"Did you see the small print?"

"What small print?" Perry asked.

"On the label for those photos," Jimmy replied. "That was the only the first group. There are two more sets that we're still working on in the photo lab. The other two groups are devoted to people. I think you'll be satisfied that we can build a good picture of the way the residents of DC have come through the crisis."

"Oh," Perry said, now less sure of his position. "Well... good. Bring them to me as soon as they're ready." Then Perry turned and retreated to his office.

Lois and Clark went over to Jimmy, who was still watching Perry retreat to his office. "You've sure improved your skills in dealing with Perry on a rampage," Lois commented.

Jimmy turned suddenly and smiled when he saw who it was. "Hey, Lois, CK, I didn't see you arrive. I guess it's gotten easier since I figured out that most of the time he jumps you like that, he's really trying to make you and the paper better. You guys are in late, were you working on a story?"

"No," Lois replied. "We spent the morning looking for apartments."

Jimmy looked at Clark excitedly. "Are you looking for a bigger place? If you find one, I'd love to have a shot at your apartment. It's one of the sweetest one-bedroom apartments I've seen that's within walking distance of the Planet."

"No, we aren't planning to move. You won't believe this but..."

Suddenly there was a call from the vicinity of the elevator. "Clark, Lois, is it all right if we come on in?" It was Martha.

"Of course," Clark said quickly. "First let me introduce you to Perry so he won't wonder who the strangers are in his newsroom."

As Clark led Martha and Jonathan toward the editor's office, Jimmy asked Lois in a whisper, "Who's that?"

"I'm sorry, Jimmy. I should have introduced you. Those are Clark's parents."

Jimmy's eyes went wide. "His parents? I thought they were dead."

"So did we. But they showed up at our apartment last night. It turns out that they'd left Smallville before the Nightfall fragment destroyed the town. They were headed this way, but got sidetracked and cut off in an isolated part of West Virginia."

"Wow," Jimmy said, barely above a whisper. "How's CK taking it?"

"He's doing okay," she said cautiously. "He's happy they're alive, but it's hard for all of them because he just doesn't remember them very much. They're all trying hard but... well, it's just hard."

"How about you?" Jimmy asked.

"I have it easy. The hardest part is filling in the blanks for both sides."

"No," Jimmy countered. "I mean how are his parents handling the fact that you two are married?"

Lois felt herself smile. "That's been better that I could have hoped. They've both gone on and on about how much Clark talked about me and they seem really happy that we're together. It's nice to know that part of his memory was right. Not that it would make any difference now between me and Clark, but it sure does make it easier that his parents already knew how he felt."

***

As Clark started toward Perry's office with his parents in tow, he heard Jimmy asking Lois who his parents were. He mentally kicked himself for not introducing them. He had to wonder if that was partly because in many ways they were strangers to him. He knocked on Perry's door, and his editor motioned him to enter immediately.

"It's about time, Kent. Where have you and Lois been this morning? I hope it's something I can print."

"Sorry, Perry. But I don't think so. I'd like you to meet my parents."

Perry's mouth dropped open. "Your parents? But..."

While Perry was looking for words, Jonathan stepped up to Perry's desk. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. White. I'm Jonathan and this is Martha," he added indicating his wife standing next to him. "From all that we've heard from Clark and Lois, we feel like we know you."

Perry reached across his desk and shook Jonathan's hand and then Martha's. It was clear that Perry was still in shock, but that only lasted a moment.

"They arrived last night," Clark said. "They were stuck in an isolated valley in West Virginia. They've been there since Nightfall hit."

"Well that's great news," Perry said finally. "I guess I don't need to tell you how worried Clark was."

"We just wish we could have gotten word out," Martha said. "I would have never expected the crazy path that led us from Smallville to Metropolis."

"That's right. You don't have a home to go back to. Do you have a place to stay here in Metropolis?"

"We're staying with Clark and Lois for now," Jonathan answered. "We spent some time this morning looking for an apartment, but no luck so far."

"I'm afraid that you're going to have a hard time with that," Perry said. "There are still people living in partially destroyed and burned out buildings for lack of anything better. Also, unless you have a few suitcases full of gold, you might find rates to be a little high for anything that does come open."

Martha turned to Clark. "Is it really that bad?"

Clark looked embarrassed. "I'm afraid so. I had hoped that things were getting better. That's why we went looking this morning. But what Perry says is pretty much my understanding. In any case, you and Dad are welcome to stay with us for as long as you need. You know that."

"I might have a better idea," Perry cut in. "Alice and I have a spare room that we've been sharing with people here at the Planet who needed a place to stay. Well, the Andersons, they're a young family that have been staying with us, just found a place of their own. I was about to post that we had an opening. If you're interested, the room is yours."

"We can't do that," Martha said. "We'll be fine with Clark and Lois. You should save that room for someone who really needs it."

"Mrs. Kent..." Perry started.

"Please, call me Martha," Martha interjected.

"Martha," Perry corrected. "Everyone here has a place to stay. We're at the point where people will take a room like ours to improve their situation. I've seen Clark and Lois's apartment. It's barely big enough for the two of them. All four of you living there isn't an answer for more than a night or two. Besides, for Alice and me, most of our guests have been younger folks. It'll be nice to have some company a little closer to our age."

Martha and Jonathan looked at each other, and then Jonathan looked back at Perry. "If you're sure..."

Perry burst into a big smile. "Absolutely!"

His obvious enthusiasm evoked a grin from Jonathan. "Well, okay then. After all we've been through, a little stability will be nice."

Perry's eyes suddenly went wide. "All you've been through?" Perry turned to Clark. "Clark, you know what kind of stories we've been running on surviving Nightfall. From what you know, is this that kind of story?"

Clark thought for a moment. "Sure. In fact, if we told it properly, it might be one of the best."

Perry turned to Martha and Jonathan. "How about it? We've been running a series of stories about how people got through Nightfall. Our real focus has been on people who made it through by helping or getting help from each other. The very fact that you made it here leads me to believe that getting help is probably a significant part of your adventure."

"It sure is," Jonathan said. "We'd have never made it without the help of our neighbor and his whole family."

"Perfect," Perry exclaimed. "Would you be willing to share your story? I promise we'll do right by you."

"If you think anyone will be interested..." Martha offered defensively.

"Mom, these stories have been one of the best received series we've run since Nightfall. The way things are now, people feel a strong connection to stories like this."

"Well, if you're sure," Martha said to Perry. "Should we sit down with Clark to go over the story?"

"No," Perry answered. "Clark is too close to you and the story. If you don't mind, I'm going to have you work with one of our other staff writers." Then Perry turned to Clark. "Clark, could you send Smith in and I'll get him started with your parents."

"So what kind of food do you like?" Clark heard Perry ask from behind as he left the office.

***

"We need to do something about this," Clark whispered to Lois as they waited for the press conference to start.

"I agree. But I don't know what to do," Lois whispered back.

At that moment the mayor and a few members of the city council climbed the steps to a small temporary podium. The mayor walked over to the microphone and tapped it. "Is this on?" he asked.

The resulting chuckle from the gathered reporters and passers-by must have provided him with the information he needed and he began to speak. "As you know, we've been considering the problem of how to best honor Superman. While the Nightfall intercept did not go as well as hoped, there can be little doubt that had Superman not sacrificed his life for the rest of us, it would have been much worse. Since Metropolis was his home, we feel that it would be proper to honor him in some way. Therefore, on this very spot we will erect a statue in his honor. We know this is a pitifully small symbol, given his sacrifice, but we're sure he'd rather we spent even that money to help the people of our city -- of his city -- to recover from Nightfall."

The mayor signaled a worker near a table in front of the podium. The worker then pulled back a screen that had concealed a table. "This is a model of the plan for the park with the statue. There are also information sheets that outline the project. That is all. Good day."

"He's not taking questions?" Clark asked Lois.

"They are probably afraid of someone asking a loaded question about Superman actually being responsible for Nightfall. You know that there are still plenty of wackos out there who think Superman caused the Nightfall disaster on purpose."

They worked their way to the table with the information. Clark looked at the model for the statue while Lois headed for the end of the table and picked up copies of the project information sheet. The model depicted Superman as if he was in-flight or just taking off the ground. Clark was still contemplating the model when Lois joined him. "Did I really look like that?" he whispered to his wife.

Lois looked at the model carefully. "It's a good likeness," she said, not bothering to keep her voice low. "I probably saw Superman up close as much as anyone, and that's pretty much what he looked like."

"I'm glad to hear you think so," came a voice from behind them.

Lois turned to find the mayor standing right there. "Hello, Mr. Mayor. When you said no questions, I didn't think you were going to stick around."

"Sorry about that," he said. "My chief of communications didn't want to risk giving an opening to someone with an anti-Superman grudge."

"That's what we thought," Clark said.

"What about you, Mr. Kent? You also knew Superman. Do you agree that we captured his likeness?"

"I'm afraid that I'm not a good person to ask," Clark replied. "I was involved in an accident around the time of Nightfall that resulted in permanent memory loss. Among the things that are gone are all of my memories of Superman."

"That's right," the mayor said, slapping his forehead. "I remember the story now. You were exposed to the same gas that killed Superman."

"Yes," Clark replied.

The mayor must have picked up the dark undercurrent of his curt answer. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kent. I didn't mean to bring up such a trying experience."

Clark shook it off. The mayor was just trying to be friendly. After all, he was a politician. "That's all right, Mr. Mayor. Sometimes I'm more sensitive about what I lost that day. I really have nothing to complain about. One consequence of that day was my relationship with my wife." Clark reached out and took Lois's hand.

"You're a lucky man. Well, I need to talk with some other people before I head back to city hall." The Mayor turned to Lois and gave her a nod of farewell. "Ms. Lane," he said quickly then headed away.

Lois moved in beside him. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I guess," Clark replied half-heartedly. "This whole thing has me upset. We need to talk about Superman tonight."

***

They were just finishing the dinner dishes when Jonathan and Martha came in the front door. "We're back," Martha called out cheerily as she started to remove her coat.

"Hi, Martha," Lois replied, as she started to dry her hands from helping with the dishes. "How was dinner at Perry's?"

"It was wonderful," Martha answered. "If that was any indication of what it'll be like, we're going to enjoy staying with the Whites."

"Is the room big enough?" Clark asked.

"Sure," Jonathan replied as he finished hanging his coat and headed for the sofa. "The room is more than big enough for what we brought with us. And the house... well, no offense, but for four people it will work a lot better than this apartment."

"Of course," Lois said. "We're happy to make room here, but it is awfully small for the four of us."

"But we're going to miss you," Martha said as she sat next to Jonathan on the sofa.

"You can still see us every day," Clark replied.

"And we want to see you as much as possible," Lois added quickly.

"I know," Martha said. "And hopefully it won't be too long until we can get our own place."

"How did it go at the Department of Records?" Lois asked.

"I'm afraid that's going to take a while," Martha replied. "Apparently a lot of people have tried to take advantage of the disruptions from Nightfall to steal other people's identities."

"We did a story on that," Lois explained. "I'm not sure it's fair to say that there have been a lot, but there were enough that the process to validate people's correct identity was made much tougher."

"I'll say," Jonathan added. "The people were sympathetic, but there are just so many things they have to verify. The lady said that it could take more than a month before we will be un-declared dead."

Lois giggled at his phrase. "I guess that is better than being declared undead. My husband is already a space alien. I don't need zombies for my in-laws."

The all chuckled at that as Lois settled into the chair across from Clark's parents. "When will you be moving in to Perry's spare room?"

"Tomorrow," Jonathan answered. "The room is empty tonight, but Alice wanted some time to get it ready."

"We're glad you're here tonight. What we need to talk about affects us all," Lois said.

"You told us it was important, so we made sure to get back early," Jonathan replied.

"We--" Clark began, as he sat on the arm of Lois's chair, "--think it's time for Superman to return. My powers seem to be completely back and I've been hearing calls for help for more than a week now."

"That's why you invented Superman," Martha said. "You never could stand by when people were getting hurt around you."

"That's one thing we wanted to ask you about," Lois said. "We don't know what Clark did before Metropolis. I mean, how come no one ever heard of him before? I'd expect that there would be stories about a person with amazing abilities stopping crime and catching criminals even if he wasn't wearing a bright costume."

"That's because he didn't do very much in the way of stopping crime until he came to Metropolis," Martha answered. "At least, he never told us about any of that." She turned to face her son. "Clark, you were always helping people. I don't know how many accidents you prevented or how many people you helped, but that's how you used your powers."

"Sure," Jonathan cut in. "You did a little of this around Smallville, but there just wasn't much near home that caused you to use your abilities that way. That changed when you spent those years traveling."

"It was always the same," Martha took over the narrative. "You'd show up unexpectedly and tell us that you'd been seen doing something and it was time to move again."

"You mean I got caught using my powers?" Clark asked.

"All the time," Jonathan answered quickly.

Martha covered Jonathan's hand with her own. "Well, not that often," she clarified. "But often enough that you were frustrated that you had to move."

"So why'd I invent Superman when I came to Metropolis?"

"I believe that part of it was that you were ready to try to establish something more permanent in your life," Jonathan speculated. "But your mom and I were pretty sure you'd found another reason to stay in Metropolis."

"Another reason?" Clark asked.

Martha laughed softly. "Well, you may not have your memories, but in many ways you're exactly the same. Clark, your Dad and I were sure right from the start that the real reason you decided that you had to stay in Metropolis is sitting in the chair next to you."

"Oh," Clark said, blushing as he took Lois's hand in his.

It was Jonathan that gave Clark the out. "So, if you're going to bring Superman back, what did you want to talk with us about?"

"Well, there are two things," Clark started. "First, is there anything that you can tell me about what I did and why. Lois knows the 'what' pretty well, at least since I created Superman, but we don't know anything about the time before that. I'd also like to know your perspective on why I did the things that I did as Superman."

Jonathan and Martha looked at each other. After a moment of silence Jonathan started. "It all started when your super hearing started working. You told us that you couldn't stand by not doing anything when you could hear people who needed help. Before Metropolis, it usually meant preventing an accident or rescuing someone. You told me once that from the time you first arrived in Metropolis, you heard calls for help day and night. Almost every time you went to help, it was some kind of crime."

When Jonathan took a breath, Martha took over. "I remember that talk," she said. "You never wanted to be Metropolis's enforcer. You were worried that people would think you were like that crazy bat-guy in Gotham City."

"So I didn't set out to just stop crime?" Clark asked.

"No," Jonathan replied quickly. "You were always happy to help, but it seemed to us that you were frustrated with that role."

"Clark," Martha added, "I think you were trying to figure out how to help in other ways."

"But there are so many calls for help," Clark pleaded. "Since my special hearing has come back, I hear them all the time."

"There's only so much you can do," Lois said. "Think about it, how many crimes do you think you prevented on any day?"

"Based on what I've read, it seemed like four or five," Clark answered.

"Pretty close," Lois replied. "You were averaging a little over seven interventions per day. Do you know how many violent crimes there are in Metropolis every day?" Lois asked her husband.

"More?" he asked.

"I did an article just before you started at the Planet. If you look at the data from last year, there was an average of a hundred and twenty assaults per day in the city."

"Every day?" Martha asked in shock.

"Yeah," Lois replied in a resigned tone. "Metropolis isn't the nicest place in the world." Then she turned back to her husband. "And that's only the violent crimes. If you look at the property crimes, robbery and burglary, then you have about six hundred more incidents every day."

"Lois, you just said that every day there were more than seven hundred crimes in the city."

"And those are only the ones that were reported."

"And I only stopped about one percent of those," Clark said morosely. "Why did I bother?"

Lois pulled him into a hug. "Because you care. And because you can help. It may not have been a big number, but your being here helped everyone feel like there was hope."

"But only seven per day..." he said, shaking his head. "And you said that even to do that much, I was running off all the time?"

"Yes, you would disappear at the strangest times. Then you'd turn up with a Superman story. I have to believe I would have figured out what was going on after another month or so."

"You probably would have," he agreed. "But I don't think I would have minded. I'm sure I wanted to tell you. But if I'm going to bring Superman back, do I go back to doing it that way?"

She looked at him intently. "You have to make that decision. I'll support whatever you decide."

He considered her words. "This," he said, pointing at his wedding band, "says that we are in this together. I'll take responsibility for the decision, but I need your advice and support. As the wife of Clark and Superman, I need you to tell me what you want me to do."

Lois was quiet for several minutes. "I think you should focus on helping in emergencies, like fires and stuff. As for crime, I know you. You'll never stand by and let something happen right in front of you, but I think you should try to leave most of the crime-stopping to the police."

Clark considered her words. "If your numbers are correct, I was already leaving most of it to them." He paused for a few seconds. "I think I'm going to try to cut the crime-fighting back. One thing I think the bat-guy has right is that he mostly works at night. During the day I think I'll try to only get involved if it's something big or if it's right in front of me. Then I'll do some random patrols at night to make sure the bad guys know I'm around."

"What about accidents and rescues?" Lois asked.

"Honey, I have to do those. If a building is on fire, I can't let people get hurt."

"I was pretty sure that would be your answer. I think you have a good plan. We'll see how it works out, but you'll have my full support."

"Then I guess tomorrow morning I'll start looking for something to do for Superman's return."

"Son," Martha interjected, "as soon as you make an appearance, you're going to have to explain where you've been."

"That's the other reason we wanted you two here tonight. I was hoping that between the four of us we would come up with a good story. Lois and I have been talking about it, and, to be honest, we didn't like any of our own ideas."

Chapter 3 -- Swarm

"What do you think this is about?" Lois asked as she leaned in close to her husband. They had been in the process of getting out the door this morning when they'd gotten a call from the Planet. EPRAD had called an early morning news conference and Perry wanted the two of them to cover it.

"I don't know," Clark replied. "I've been trying to listen for people talking, but the only voices I can pick up are from the reporters around us. By the way, none of them know what this is about either. If there's anyone here who knows what's going on, they aren't talking about it."

"Can you see who's inside the building?" Lois asked.

"I hadn't thought to look," Clark answered. "Give me a second."

She saw Clark pull his glasses down and stare intently in the direction of the building. After a moment, he lifted his glasses back into place. "There are a lot of military people in there. Is that normal for EPRAD?"

"No," she said flatly. "The only times that have happened before have been for military launches and... Nightfall."

"Military launches?" Clark replied in a puzzled voice. "I didn't think EPRAD had launch capability for any kind of satellite."

"It doesn't," she replied. "That's what has me worried. But I have no idea what else this could be about. I can't believe that there could be another Nightfall-like asteroid. Last time they said that it was a once-in-a-million-years type of event."

"I remember reading that in the Nightfall coverage," Clark said. "So why do you think we're here?"

"I don't know. But it can't be good."

At that moment, a door opened and a group of men came out of the building. There were four in all. Two of them wore military uniforms and the other two were in business suits. As soon as she saw the men in the suits, the word 'scientists' popped into her head. They all headed directly to the podium. "I don't recognize any of them," Lois told Clark. "I think the ones in suits are scientists."

"Why do you say that," Clark asked.

"I don't know. Something about the way they dress... or maybe the way they move. I may be wrong, but as soon as I saw them, that's what came to mind."

The men climbed the few steps to the podium and went to the cluster of microphones. The military officer with the general's stars stepped up to address the crowd. "Thank you for coming," he opened. "I'm General Isaacson. The scientists at EPRAD have discovered a cloud of asteroids heading for the Earth. They're approaching from the direction of the Sun, and will be here in approximately two days. Since we have no intercept option, we will be working in conjunction with EPRAD scientists to determine the places most in danger and will be evacuating those towns and cities. We will all take questions at the end of this briefing, but for now I'll turn you over to Dr. Aames who will handle the scientific briefing. Dr. Aames."

The general stepped aside as Dr. Aames approached the microphone cluster. "Now I remember him," Lois said. "I should have recognized him immediately. He's head of the EPRAD Anderson Center. He was the main guy that handled most of the Nightfall briefings."

Before Clark could respond, Dr. Aames began to speak. "Good morning. Approximately twelve hours ago, we picked up something unusual in the direction of the Sun during a normal sweep of our near-Earth space radar. Our instruments detected what appeared to be some sort of cloud moving at high speed on a course that will intercept the Earth. Since that time, we have been studying it with both optical and electronic sensors. The cloud consists of many thousands of -- for lack of a better term -- rocks. The largest are up to several hundred meters across and the smallest are too small for our instruments to measure. They are traveling in a group at a velocity of approximately one hundred kilometers per second. Due to the high velocity of these asteroids, those that penetrate the atmosphere will do an enormous amount of damage. We are still developing data, but we already know that there are at least forty-seven of these bodies between one hundred and three hundred meters in diameter. There are many -- possibly thousands -- smaller than that, but the majority of those will burn up in the Earth's atmosphere and pose no threat."

Lois felt Clark's hand as he reached for hers. She glanced in his direction, but his attention was all on the announcement. He had a look of determination, but the way he held her hand told her something else. It was as if she could hear his thoughts. There was no doubt in her mind that her husband was thinking, 'here we go again.' She composed herself, gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and turned her attention back to the front just as Dr. Aames finished.

Dr. Aames looked over at the general and stepped back. Then the general stepped up to the microphone. "We will be issuing a press release with all of the information that we have available. I will take questions now."

At first, the shouting left no room for a reply but within seconds the questions became clear.

"Is this related to Nightfall?"

The general nodded to Dr. Aames. "Yes," Dr. Aames said as he stepped forward. "We have analyzed the speed and trajectory of the cloud and determined that it is part of what remains of Nightfall. When Superman shattered that large asteroid, some of the debris was driven toward the sun. To our great misfortune, this group of rocks narrowly missed the sun and instead followed a sun-skimming orbit, which has sent them back in our direction. Unfortunately, the Earth is in exactly the wrong place."

"What damage will the impacts cause?"

Dr. Aames took this one. "The largest bodies, those over a hundred meters in diameter, will have the destructive power of exceptionally large atomic bombs. Because of the high velocity that these objects are traveling, each asteroid is far more destructive that an equivalent chunk of the original Nightfall asteroid."

"Why are they going so fast?"

"They were accelerated by the energy of the collision of the intercept ship that Superman drove into Nightfall. Remember, the original Nightfall impact took place at a velocity of nearly a thousand miles a second. This group was thrown from that collision with a large portion of that energy. As I said a moment ago, these happened to have followed a sun-skimming orbit and they're now heading back with all of their original, post-impact velocity."

"What is the government doing about this?"

General Isaacson stepped up to the microphones. "We're working to update the shelters that survived Nightfall and those lists will be available starting in a few hours. We're also working to plot the impact points of the largest of the asteroids. Even though the time is short, we will be recommending that everyone at those locations try to get at least twenty-five miles away. As Dr. Aames said, the impacts will have the energy of atomic bombs. There won't be any radiation, but the explosive concussion will be immense."

"But what are you doing to stop them?"

The general's expression turned cold. "Nothing. We simply don't have anything to use against a threat like this. Even if we had the launch capability that existed before Nightfall, there would still be nothing we could do. If we had rockets to shoot at the cloud, the thousands of small rocks would prevent us from reaching the largest asteroids." He took a deep breath of resignation. "They are going to hit the Earth and there just isn't anything we can do to prevent it."

Just as he finished his statement, a door opened and several men came out of the building carrying a few stacks of paper. "These are copies of the announcement with the information we have as of an hour ago. The only information missing are the projected impact points for the large asteroid segments. That information will be released as soon as we have accurate information. We expect that to be approximately twelve hours from now."

Lois hurried over to the stack of information sheets and retrieved copies for her and Clark. She returned to find Clark grim-faced. When she offered him a copy of the data, he didn't take it. "I have to do something," he said, determination clear in his voice.

"I know," she replied, fighting to maintain her composure for what was sure to come. "We can't talk here. Let's go."

***

Bernie Klein wondered what Lois Lane could want to talk to him about. He hadn't heard from her since they had closed the books on Nightfall several months ago. It couldn't be a coincidence that she had contacted him only hours after the existence of the Nightfall asteroid group had been revealed to the public.

Despite the fact that he had plenty of connections with EPRAD, he'd been as surprised as anyone at the announcement of the cluster of asteroids that was bearing down upon them. The media seemed to have already decided on a name. They were calling it the Swarm.

What could she want? He was an accomplished scientist, but except for the Nightfall mission, he had very little involvement in matters related to space exploration. His real specialty the past year had been Superman. Since Superman had died, Bernie had been looking for a new area of specialization. His best guess was that Lois wanted to ask if Superman would be able to make a difference if he was still alive.

At that moment there was a knock on his office door. "Come," he said, loud enough to be heard through the closed door.

The door opened and the administrative assistant for his group came in. "Dr. Klein, Ms. Lane is here to see you."

"Thanks, Judy. Please show her in." The young redhead stepped back and Lois entered the room.

"Good afternoon, Lois," he greeted her. "I hope you and Clark have been well."

"Thank you," she replied. "We have."

"So what brings you here today? I have to believe this is somehow related to the asteroid cloud."

"When we were doing our investigation into Nightfall, you once gave Clark and me a tour of STAR Labs. I remember seeing a storage area in the back of the building. It had a door that led to a fenced area."

"I know the place you mean," Bernie replied, slightly confused. "What about it?"

"We need to go there now. There's something that you need to see in that room."

"But Lois, I've seen the inventory of the boxes in that room. There isn't anything interesting there."

"Bernie, I assure you that there is. Please indulge me on this. It would be best if we didn't waste any time."

Bernie started to object, but he knew enough about Lois to realize that would be futile. "Okay," he said in a resigned tone. "I can't imagine what you think we'll find there."

She stood, obviously impatient to get started. "Trust me. I'm sure that you will agree that it was worth the trouble."

The trip to the room only took a minute or two. The door was locked but Bernie had the key and in only a moment, they were inside. Once they were in the room Lois walked deliberately around the room looking at the walls and ceiling. Then she went back to the door they had used to enter and locked it. "Lois, what's going on?" Bernie asked, suddenly nervous.

She didn't reply. Instead, she crossed the room and unlocked the door that led outside. She opened the door and looked quickly outside. "You know that we can't leave that way," Bernie said. "That's a gated area with our large liquid nitrogen storage tank. There's a gate, but it's padlocked from the outside."

Lois left the door ajar, stepped deliberately away from the door and turned back to him. "I don't intend to leave."

"Then wha..." Bernie started. Before he could finish he heard a whooshing sound. Standing in front of him was a dead man. "Superman?" he sputtered.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Klein. I apologize for the cloak-and-dagger nature of this meeting. I needed to talk with someone that would be in a position to help me, but I wanted it to be kept as secret as possible."

"Help you?" Bernie asked. "I don't understand. And where have you been? How are you alive?"

"Much of that will have to wait. Briefly, I was severely injured during the Nightfall mission. I made it back to Earth, but my powers were gone and I had the same kind of amnesia as Ms. Lane's husband. Until very recently, I had no idea that I was Superman. I was just another displaced and injured person trying to survive after Nightfall. My abilities returned only a short time ago. I was considering how to return to helping people when I heard to the news of the Swarm. I want to help if I can."

Bernie was struggling to absorb all this. "Why... why me? And Lois, what's your part in this?"

"Superman contacted us -- Clark and I -- about a week ago. He had seen our stories about Nightfall and recognized the similarity between the amnesia that he'd experienced and what Clark went through."

"You see," Superman added, "my memory is completely gone. I have no recollection of any of my activities as Superman. I needed someone to talk to that knew me as Superman. The fact that Lois and Clark had also been through the amnesia made them the perfect choice."

"So you don't remember meeting me?" Bernie asked.

"No. I know through Lois and her stories that I met you just before the Nightfall mission, but I have no recollection of it."

"So why me?"

"Because you have connections to EPRAD and, according to Ms. Lane, you have access to the Nightfall mission technology. If I'm to have any chance to do anything about the Swarm, I will need both of those."

"Why didn't you go directly to EPRAD?"

"Because I don't know if this will succeed," Superman said. "And, after what happened with Nightfall, I want as few people as possible involved. Based on what I've seen of the Swarm, if I can reach it, there should be something that I can do. Lois has told me that you have duplicates of the Nightfall mission pack. Can you outfit me for a mission?"

"Yes. All of the remaining Nightfall mission equipment is in this building. I even have the communication link ground station."

"What else will I need for a mission to deal with the Swarm?"

Bernie thought for a moment. "I need to get the equipment set up. Then I need a live link to the EPRAD communication system. How many people can I bring in on this?"

"None," Superman said abruptly. "At least, none if we can avoid it."

"I don't think that's possible," Bernie countered. "Setting up the equipment alone will take several people most of a day."

"What if you have one person who is both super strong and super-fast?"

"Oh... I guess I won't need as much help as I thought."

"Good, when can we get started?"

Bernie thought a moment. "You said that you want this to be as private as possible, so I'll need to reserve one of the sealed labs and have the equipment moved there. I also need to set up a link to EPRAD so that I can tap into the telemetry that they are using to track the Swarm. Can you come back in early this evening?"

"Can we afford to wait that long?" Lois asked. "The Swarm is moving awfully fast."

"Yes. The soonest you should start will be early tomorrow morning. I want all of our tracking stations to be in line with the Swarm while you are out there working. We can spend the early evening setting up. That will give you overnight to rest or do whatever you need to get ready. Tomorrow morning the Swarm will still be roughly twenty-four hours out. Based on what you did during Nightfall, it will take--" Bernie pulled out a calculator and ran the numbers. "--approximately ninety minutes for you to reach the Swarm. The survival pack can sustain you for five hours. That will give you two hours dealing with the swarm. That should be plenty of time to deal with all of the largest fragments and many of the smaller ones."

***

"Check the connections in the back of that third panel," Bernie told his assistant. He never imagined that Superman would be helping him set up equipment. Then again, he never imagined that he'd be called in to be the sole provider for technical support for a mission to save millions of people. And after what happened during Nightfall, he never imagined that he would be seeing, much less working with, Superman.

"Try it now," Superman called from behind the panel.

Bernie checked the equipment again. "That did it," he said. It had only taken a few minutes to realize that when working with Superman there was no need to shout. Superman could hear every word no matter how softly he said it.

Bernie adjusted the image on the screen in front of him. It looked harmless enough. A series of points that looked all too much like a simple star field. "What are we seeing?" Superman asked from behind him. "Which of those points are asteroids and which are stars?" he asked.

"This is radar, not an optical image, so everything you see is part of the asteroid field."

"Oh," Superman replied. "Do you think you will be able to use this information to guide me?"

"Absolutely," Bernie replied. "Watch this." He adjusted the directional filter and most of the points except for the ones in the center of the image disappeared. "What I just did was to filter out those bodies that are not on a collision course with Earth. There is no reason to waste your time with ones that will miss us."

"Good," Superman said. "Can you tell me which are most dangerous?"

Bernie made another adjustment. The image seemed to zoom in so that the points filled the screen again. Then he made another adjustment and the lights started going out. He continued until only three lights were left. "Those are the three largest asteroids. They are all approximately 300 meters in diameter."

"And I don't need to try to destroy them?" Superman asked.

"Correct. All you need to do is push them sideways to change their direction. Based on the abilities you demonstrated before Nightfall, you should just give each one a good shove to the side and move on to the next one."

"How can we be sure I pushed it hard enough?"

"I'll be using the same directional filter that I am now. You will be working about thirty light-seconds out. Since the radar is being sent constantly, about thirty seconds after you achieve your deflection, that asteroid will disappear from my screen."

"So should I wait for confirmation?"

"I don't think so. We want to deflect as many as possible, so I don't think you want to wait around. Remember that I will know thirty seconds after you achieve a deflection. But you won't hear my confirmation for another thirty seconds after that. I don't think we can afford to spend a minute on each rock you move."

"But according to the information that I saw, there are only forty-seven large asteroids. That should leave plenty of time."

"Those are only the largest ones," Bernie replied. "We also need to take care of as many of the smaller ones as we can. We know that Nightfall was a very dense body so we have to assume that any individual fragment could be hard rock or possibly even iron. That means that in a worst-case scenario, anything larger than about ten meters across could reach the ground intact with devastating consequences."

"Devastating?" Superman asked. "Do I need to stop more of the Swarm to protect all the people?"

Bernie struggled for a reply. "Are you asking how small you would have to go to make sure no one got hurt?"

"Yes. If I'm going to be up there, I want to prevent all of the ground impacts."

"Superman, to do that you would have to divert everything above a meter in diameter."

"Then that's what I need to do," Superman replied. "That should be our mission goal."

"I understand what you want to do, but that isn't going to be possible. There are thousands of rocks in the Swarm. You simply don't have time to divert them all. The best we can do is to divert as many as we can. That's why it's important to work as quickly as possible. I'll re-adjust the sensor every few minutes to only pick up the largest of the ones still heading at us."

Superman was quiet for several long minutes. "How long do I have?"

"The survival pack was designed to give you five hours of air. I wish I would have known this was going to happen. If we had more time, I could have modified the pack to use the section that Luthor added for the Kryptonite gas, to carry another hour of air. Unfortunately, that isn't possible in the time we have."

"What if I did two trips?"

Bernie considered that. "It might be possible," he said. "You could certainly get a lot more. All we would need to do would be to swap in new air tanks and a fresh battery pack. Do you think that you're going to be strong enough to do a second trip? When we were preparing for the Nightfall mission, we never looked at your ability to do several trips."

"If that's what it takes, then I'll have to be able to do it," Superman replied grimly.

"Superman, please," Bernie implored, "If you divert everything above the ten meter limit, then while there will probably still be damage and injuries, it won't be a disaster. Think about the good you can do if you survive."

After a long pause, Superman said, "All right. But just in case I have the strength, could you please make sure to have extra tanks and battery packs ready?"

"I will," Bernie said.

"So what else do we need to cover tonight?" Superman asked.

This was the moment Bernie had been dreading. "There is one more thing," he started nervously. "If we're going to be successful, I'm going to have to involve a few other people."

Superman's face turned stern. "You know I don't want that."

"I understand," Bernie said quickly. "But there are two problems. First, we need someone high-up in EPRAD to know that I have a mission going on."

"Why?" Superman asked.

"Once you start deflecting the Swarm fragments, EPRAD and the military are going to want to know what's going on. Someone might decide to cut external data feeds to try to contain the information. We need someone high up at EPRAD who knows how important it is not to cut our feed."

"I guess I understand. What can we do?" Superman asked.

"I know Dr. Aames at EPRAD. I would like your permission to tell him that I'm heading an experimental operation that might be able to mitigate the Swarm. All he needs to know is that it's critical that the STAR Labs feed not be interrupted."

"So you wouldn't tell him about me?"

"No. I believe I can extract a promise from Aames to remain silent and keep the STAR Labs feed alive until it's all over. I think this is necessary for the success of the mission."

Superman was quiet for a long moment. "Okay. I understand. Is that all?"

"Not quite," Bernie answered. "This other issue is less critical, but would help me."

"What is it?" Superman asked.

"Your mission will last many hours. If you do two missions, we will be at this for a very long time."

"What are you saying?" the Man of Steel asked.

"Superman, you may have super powers, but I don't. I will... well, I'll need to use the rest room. And I worry about getting tired."

"What do you suggest?"

"One of my colleagues here at the labs, Alyson Summers, could assist. She is a huge fan of yours, and I've already made sure that she will be in tomorrow."

"You'll vouch for her?"

"Yes."

"Okay then. But no one else."

"Agreed."

"Fine," Superman said. "Is that it?"

"Yes, that's all. That door over there--" Bernie pointed at the door in the back of the room that Superman had used to enter, "--will be your entrance and exit point for this lab. The mission pack is ready to go now and we've tested the comm. link. The equipment here is all set. I'm going to head home and try to get some sleep. I suggest that you do whatever you need to do to prepare yourself. I assume you have a place to stay?"

"Yes. I have..." Superman cut himself off and looked suddenly cautious. "I have things to do before tomorrow morning."

***

The apartment was quieter than Lois could remember. And the bed was cold. Lois didn't remember the bed being so cold before. It hadn't been that long since she'd slept alone, but just the same, it felt like forever. She really had changed a lot in the months she'd been with Clark. Lois had grown up convinced that she didn't need a man in her life. Up until a few months ago, that decision had been easy. But whether she needed Clark or not -- not a question she intended to pursue -- she sure wanted him in her life... and in her bed.

Lois looked at the clock. It was after midnight and she'd been in bed trying to fall asleep for over an hour. It figured that tonight was the night that Clark's parents had been scheduled to move in with the Whites. Martha had offered to stay, but Alice and Perry were expecting them tonight. Since Clark was going to be at STAR Labs all evening, Lois had insisted that Martha and Jonathan go ahead with the plan for moving to the Whites'.

There was a rushing of air and suddenly Clark was in the room in his Superman suit. It was nice to have him home. "Hi, honey. I missed you," she said. He smiled back at her. She loved it when he looked at her like that. He didn't need to say, 'I love you.' That look said it much louder than words. However, as much as she liked that smile, something was wrong. He looked worried. "Did everything go okay at STAR Labs?"

"Yeah," he muttered. "It's all set."

"Clark, tell me what's wrong."

He sat on the edge of the bed. As soon as he sat down she reached for his hand. He looked at their clasped hands for a few seconds before he spoke. "Bernie says that no matter what I do, I can't stop all of the rocks."

"How hard could it be to push forty-seven rocks aside?" Lois asked.

"It's not forty-seven. Those are only the large ones. Bernie told me that while they may not be city-destroyers, there are thousands -- possibly many thousands -- of asteroids that could reach the ground. Our plan is to start with the largest and keep working until I need to return because the survival pack runs out. Since every rock that reaches the ground is a potential killer, every one that I leave behind could kill a person. Or worse, any one of those could kill a family."

"Is that what has you so upset?"

"Yes. I let people down last time, and now it feels like it's going to happen again."

"Clark, if not for what you might be able to do, we'd be looking at a major disaster. Have you seen the updated projections for the destructive force of those large asteroids?"

"No," Clark replied.

"There was an article in the late edition. The biggest asteroid, the three hundred meter one, is projected to land in France. Based on the information I've seen, that one impact will kill millions and decimate a large part of that country." She let that sink in for a moment. "So don't tell me you're letting anyone down. Maybe you can't stop every rock, but the fact that you're here means that a few days from now millions of people will be alive who wouldn't otherwise."

"But I have to start back with an hour and a half of air. In the time it will take for me to return I could divert hundreds of rocks."

She felt a chill run through her. "Please don't tell me you're thinking about not coming back."

"No, it's nothing like that. But I could fly more missions. Bernie told me that he has supplies that would allow us to re-outfit the survival pack for a second trip."

"Okay," Lois said, the relief clearly present in her voice. "But are you strong enough for two trips?"

"I don't know. I feel like I have to be. How can I decide that I'm too tired to make another trip when failing to do so will cost lives?"

They sat silently for several minutes. "Clark, you know that I'll never argue that even one life isn't important, but there are other issues here. A minute ago I talked about what might have happened if you weren't here for this... return of Nightfall. If you were to push too hard and not come back, who's going to be here to save us next time the world is threatened?"

"There probably won't be a next time," Clark countered.

"If it was all about probability, then there wouldn't have been a first or second time either. But even without another world-threatening disaster, you still need to be here to help with everyday emergencies. From what you just said, it sounds like once you've taken care of all the larger asteroids, the others are threats to individuals or individual dwellings?"

"That's what Bernie said," Clark verified.

"So if you take out a thousand of those, you have potentially saved what... at most a couple of hundred people? But if you're here and help clear a high-rise in a fire or rescue a ship in a storm, won't you save that many each time? And you can do that for many years to come. Don't you see that it's not just for you and me? It's to everyone's benefit that you make sure you survive the mission."

He looked at her sheepishly. "I guess I'd better make sure I come back."

"Yes. You'd better make sure."

Chapter 4: Return

Clark was surprised at how quickly the blue sky turned black. He'd only left STAR Labs a few seconds earlier, but now all of the blue was already gone. "Dr. Klein, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Superman," came the reply.

"Good," Clark said. "I thought that there was going to be a time delay."

"There will be later. For now please turn and start for the sun."

"Okay. I'm turning now," Clark replied. "Is the tracking equipment working?"

"Perfectly," Bernie replied. "It helps to have all the equipment from the Nightfall mission. We put it together quickly, but it was well-built."

"I'm now flying toward a point just to the right of the sun."

"Yes, your change is on our tracking system. That's a good track for now. In about thirty minutes I'll have you make a course change to get you better lined up with the Swarm. But for now just keep going in the general direction of the sun. What you do need to do is to see how much you can accelerate. We're only reading you at around three hundred kilometers per second."

"Okay, Dr. Klein. You may have to bear with me. I only remembered how to fly a little over a week ago. I'm going to try to accelerate. Can you please call out my speed every few seconds to let me know how I'm doing?"

"Sure, Superman. We are now showing you at eight hundred kilometers per second. Eleven hundred... twelve hundred... fifteen hundred... fifteen fifty.." There was a longer pause before Clark heard Bernie's voice again. "You seem to be holding steady at one thousand five hundred and seventy kilometers per second."

"I think that's about as fast as I can go," Clark replied. "It isn't taking any real effort to maintain this speed but I don't seem to be able to go any faster. There must be a trick to flying at higher velocities that I don't remember. I can try pushing harder, but I don't know how much that will help."

"You should save your strength," Bernie replied. "At sixteen hundred kilometers per second, our projections were that you would reach the Swarm in ninety three minutes. At your current speed it will only take about two minutes longer. Those extra two minutes aren't worth the risk of you being fatigued when you reach the Swarm."

"Okay, I'll try to maintain this speed. Please let me know if I slow down. I don't have any useful references to judge my speed out here, so I'll have to depend on you to tell me if I've slowed down."

"I'll do that. Now, what I'd like to do for the next half hour is to try to identify some constellations and some key stars. If you can pick these out quickly and easily, I think it will help when I'm trying to give you directions"

"I understand," Clark said as he looked around. "I'm looking at the Big Dipper now."

***

'The world stood in awe today as Superman reappeared to save the people of the Earth from the return of Nightfall in the form of the Swarm asteroid cluster.' Lois stared at that opening line again. It was a little sensationalist, but given the nature of what was happening, it felt right.

This was her third pass over this article. She had come into the office and started on this story as soon as Clark had left for STAR Labs. Writing the coverage for an event that hadn't happened yet was new for her. But in this case, she needed something to keep her mind occupied while Clark was off trying to save the world.

By now he should be most of the way to the Swarm. She'd half-expected some kind of report from EPRAD about an unidentified object heading from the Earth to the Swarm, but there had been no reports. Either they couldn't pick him up on their radar, or since they had no idea what he was, they simply weren't reporting anything. Of course, there was always the chance that -- in deference to his agreement with Bernie -- Dr. Aames was sitting on the news until something definitive happened.

If everything went as planned, Clark would divert the first of the large asteroids about ten minutes from now. As she stared at the television, Lois couldn't help but be nervous. Last time Clark had tried something like this, he'd been lucky to survive. Of course, that was why they had decided to only involve Bernie. Lois had a good feel about the scientist right from the beginning. Since Clark knew he couldn't do this without help, they'd agreed that they were lucky there was a person that they trusted who had access to everything needed for this mission.

She hoped they wouldn't come to regret agreeing to let Bernie bring in help. It did make sense, and it had probably been unrealistic to believe that Dr. Klein could do all of the ground support work alone. She wasn't too worried about that woman at STAR Labs. Bernie clearly knew and trusted her. The EPRAD connection was, however, another story. Aames seemed like a good guy, but as a senior official at EPRAD he had other pressures. She wondered if Aames would really remain silent about Bernie's mysterious mission. She hoped so. The last thing that they needed was to have EPRAD and the military bursting in at STAR Labs while Clark was still out there.

"Lois, where's Clark?" Perry bellowed from across the office.

She minimized her document to make sure no one else saw it while she was distracted. "We have a tip about something happening at STAR Labs. There is an experiment underway that might be able to mitigate the effect of the Swarm."

Perry's face went stiff and he just stared at her for several seconds. She'd been working for Perry long enough to recognize the 'wheels turning' expression on his face. He was clearly going over the implications of what she'd just said. "My office," Perry barked, as he snapped suddenly out of his muse. Without waiting for her to reply, he then turned and headed back to his office.

Lois took just long enough to save her work and lock her workstation before she headed for Perry's office. Knowing that he was waiting for her, she walked right in and closed the door behind her.

"Sit down," Perry said. As soon as she was in the chair he continued. "What aren't you telling me?"

Lois felt herself squirm. "Perry, I'm not sure..."

"Do you know why I asked that question?" Perry interrupted.

"Because Clark isn't here?"

"No... Well, not exactly. I was wondering what you've been working on so intently all morning. With the Swarm cloud bearing down, I'd expected that you and Clark would be pounding the pavement for input on how people are getting ready. But instead, all morning I've seen you working intently at your workstation. I've also noticed that while you haven't made or received any phone calls, you've checked the time every ten minutes since you've been in the office. Now, do you want to tell me something?"

***

"Okay, I'm facing the Earth now," Clark said. "I'm surprised that there aren't more rocks nearby. I thought this would be like flying in a gravel pile."

Clark knew that there would be a full minute of time lag before he heard Bernie's reply. It was frustrating, but there was no way around it. It did serve to remind him of how far he was from home. After a minute he finally heard Bernie's voice. "Space is big. The fact that you see anything around you at all tells you that, by space standards, you're in the middle of a gravel pile."

Clark was about to reply when he heard more from Dr. Klein. "Per our plan, this pass through the cloud will be to take out all of the fragments over seventy-five meters in diameter. Verify that you are facing the Earth with Polaris above you. Then use the etching on your helmet faceplate to pick out a target star and head for a position that is fifty-seven degrees to the right and eighteen degrees up. If you head that direction you should see the first target in about one minute."

Clark found the mark on the grid in front of his face. He picked out a star in that direction and started for it. "I'm heading that way now," he said. "It looks like the Earth is now at the opposite coordinate. It's at minus fifty-seven and minus eighteen. If it is, then that will be easier for me to use. Most of the stars look the same. It will be easier if I only have to worry about the position of the Earth and the North Star. Can you give me directions using that method?"

Clark flew in the direction that Dr. Klein had indicated. He continued to scan that area ahead of him. He passed several smaller rocks, none more than about a yard across. Finally he saw something large ahead of him. That had to be it. "I have sight of the first target."

Just as he reached the rock, he heard Bernie's voice. "Superman, the location of the Earth is a good check after you start for your target star, but the reference system depends on using the locations of the Earth in front of you and Polaris directly above based on the marking in your faceplate. The software I'm using is designed to work based on those points. I think it would be safer if we stayed with the original method. So, once you finish with the first fragment, reorient yourself on Earth and Polaris. The next fragment will be at minus seventy-five degrees to the side and minus three degrees in elevation. Head for that as soon as you divert the first. It should only take you about thirty seconds to reach. From now on I'll provide new coordinates without waiting for you to reply."

Clark was at the rock. It was large, for a rock but smaller than Clark expected. He verified the position of the Earth and pushed the rock sideways. It was hard for Clark to be sure, but it felt like the direction changed. "I just finished with the first one and am heading for target number two," Clark reported.

Clark had spotted the second target and was almost there when he heard Bernie's voice. "Target three will be at plus fifty-two horizontal and minus sixty-one vertical. Don't forget to orient yourself first."

Clark took a second to commit the coordinates to memory then approached the asteroid in front of him. This fragment was larger. It looked easily two-hundred yards across. Clark pushed it like the other one. It was clear to him that it was much more massive, but after a few seconds he was sure it moved. "Fragment two is done. I'm moving on to number three."

He reoriented himself on the Earth and started for the third target. Just as he started out he heard Bernie's voice. "Superman, I have verification that the first target was deflected. Based on the new trajectory it will pass well clear of the Earth. That deflection was many times the minimum necessary to miss the Earth. If you can continue to do that for all of them, then you won't have any problem. You should be on route to target three. As soon as I see that target two has been deflected, I'll send you the target four data."

"I've received your target one confirmation and am on my way to target three," Clark said. This looked to be a good start, but it was going to be a long day.

***

Lois pondered Perry's question. Was she ready to tell Perry what was going on? She loved Perry, but if he knew what was going on, he'd probably be obligated as the editor to run with the story. She figured he might understand why Clark -- no, Superman... she had to remember to say Superman -- why Superman wanted this mission to be secret.

"Perry, I..." but she never finished. There was a rap and the door opened without Perry giving the go-ahead to come in.

Jimmy stuck his head in looking more excited than Lois could remember. "Sorry, but you guys need to see this!" he said excitedly. "EPRAD is reporting something going on in the Nightfall Swarm."

Jimmy hurried away leaving Perry's door open. Lois turned back to her editor to find him eyeing her carefully. "We aren't done," he said in an almost threatening tone. Then he stood and started out the door. Lois stood and followed him.

Once they were out in the bullpen, they found everyone gathered around the television which was tuned to the Nightfall information channel. "We now have confirmation that a third asteroid has changed course," the LNN announcer said excitedly. "The previous one was one of the forty-seven largest fragments that government representatives were most concerned about. The third asteroid that changed course, while not one of the forty-seven, was one of the larger fragments. We have Chet Nielsen standing by at EPRAD. Chet what are we getting?"

At that moment, Lois felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Perry motioning her back to his office. In less than a minute, they were back in their seats. "So Superman is alive," Perry offered.

"Yes," Lois said after a long moment.

"Tell me."

"I know this goes against your nature, but this was revealed to me in confidence. If I tell you, you have to promise me that none of this will end up in the Planet until Superman is ready for a public announcement."

"You know this is huge. We can't just sit on this story."

"Then all I can tell you is that it is Superman out there working to deflect as many of the asteroids as possible. I'll have the complete story to you within minutes of the mission being completed."

Perry just stared at her for a full minute. "Fine," he finally barked, "all of this is off-the-record... for now."

"Thanks, Chief," Lois said. She took a deep breath. "Superman approached me and Clark about a week ago. He's been suffering from the same amnesia that Clark went through. The difference with him was that not only did he lose his memory and identity, but he lost his powers as well."

"He lost his powers? Then how did he survive?"

"He doesn't know. He hasn't been very forthcoming about where he's been or what he's been doing. He did tell us that he doesn't remember anything from before Nightfall. In fact, he told us that he doesn't have any memory at all of his Superman-related activities. He only discovered who he was when his powers started coming back a few weeks ago."

"If he has no memories, why did he seek you out?"

"Once the powers came back, and he realized who he was, he remembered the post-Nightfall work that Clark and I did. He re-read all those articles and once he realized that Clark had suffered a similar memory loss, he wanted to know if there was anything that could restore his memories."

"Why didn't he let the world know that he survived?"

"After all that happened with Nightfall, he was unsure about returning to the public eye. Also, from what he told us, his powers only came back to their full strength about a week ago. I think he'd decided to come forward, but simply hadn't gotten around to it yet."

"So how did you know about what he's doing now?"

"When he learned of the Swarm cloud, he knew he needed to do something. However, he didn't want to the public to know about it until after the fact. He contacted us again and asked if there was anyone that Clark or I knew that would be able to help to facilitate a mission to the Swarm. I introduced Superman to Dr. Klein at STAR Labs yesterday afternoon. I don't know much of the details, but I do know that Superman approached us with the idea of diverting those forty-seven largest asteroids that we've all been writing about."

"But according to the EPRAD report that we just heard, he's diverting other asteroids as well," Perry countered.

"I heard. I have to guess that when he was working with Dr. Klein to define the scope of the mission, they decided to do more than just divert the forty-seven. I guess we shouldn't be surprised at that. We've run stories ourselves that fragments much smaller than those included in the forty-seven would do significant damage."

Perry considered that for a moment. "So where is Clark really at?"

"We got permission to monitor the mission with the understanding that nothing would be reported until we get the go-ahead from Superman. Clark is set up with a radio monitor so he can hear the exchanges between Superman and Dr. Klein."

"So where is he?" Perry asked.

"I don't know. Superman took him to a place where he could monitor the mission, but I don't know where that is."

"Can you contact him?" Perry asked.

"No. Not until the mission is over."

"What if something goes wrong? How does Clark get back from... wherever if Superman disappears again?"

She was quiet for a long time. There was a danger and a truth in Perry's question far beyond anything he could guess. She'd been working extra hard all day to keep her mind away from that exact subject. Finally she realized that Perry was still waiting for an answer. She composed herself and tried to sound matter-of-face. "I don't know," she said hesitantly. "I... I'm sure that in case anything did happen, Clark will find a way to get home. Besides, both Superman and Dr. Klein seemed committed to not having any sort of repeat of the Nightfall mission."

***

"Fragment three hundred seventy-three is done," Clark said into his transmitter. Because of the way Bernie was providing the target information, Clark knew how many fragments he'd diverted so far. Bernie hadn't told him which were the forty-seven that were his real primary targets, but he'd pushed enough large ones that he figured that there was a good chance that all of those had been taken care of. In fact, many of the more recent fragments had seemed a little on the small size.

Clark was about to repeat his message when he heard Bernie's voice. "Superman, after fragment three seventy-three, please just wait for further instructions. I'll provide you with information shortly."

Clark was tempted to acknowledge the message, but the few times he'd tried to say anything back to Bernie other than the notification that each fragment had been dealt with led to confusion. So he just waited.

"Superman, I have verified that fragment three seventy-three is safe. I have also re-verified that all of the fragments in this target group have been diverted. There were actually only two hundred ninety-seven fragments based on the original plan for this pass, but you had extra time, so for the last half hour I've had you diverting fragments down to below ten meters. You need to start back to the Earth to maintain your safety margin."

"Dr. Klein. This has been far less tiring than I thought it would be. I'd like to use some of my safety margin and do some more good out here."

After a minute, he heard Bernie's reply. "The largest of the remaining fragments are near the rear of the cloud, back where you started. The time it would take to reposition yourself to deal with those will deplete your extra air. The best use of your time is to start back. It will only take you about eighty minutes to make the return trip. Once you get here, then you can decide about making another mission."

That made sense. And he'd promised Lois that he wouldn't take unnecessary risks once he'd diverted the major fragments. "Okay, Dr. Klein. I'm starting back now."

He lined up the Earth and concentrated on accelerating again. After a minute he heard Bernie. "Very good, Superman. I have you on course home and your speed is just over fifteen hundred kilometers per second. You should be here in eighty-three minutes."

***

"Lois, have you heard from Clark yet?" Perry asked for about the twentieth time in the last two hours.

"No, Perry. I told you that as soon as I hear anything, I'll let you know."

The look on Perry's face had Lois wondering if he thought she was deliberately torturing him. He started to speak but stopped himself. They'd agreed that nothing would be said aloud outside of Perry's office that could reveal what was going on. "Have you been listening to the reports coming out of EPRAD?"

"Sure. All of the largest asteroid fragments have changed course. That group includes not only the forty-seven largest, but more than a hundred smaller fragments as well. That's good, isn't it?" she asked innocently.

"You must have heard the other reports. Almost everyone is speculating that this is Superman. It's gotten so bad that many news outlets are openly wondering if it was EPRAD or the military that have been hiding him."

Lois looked around nervously. "Well, I guess we -- and the other responsible news outlets -- will just have to wait until there is some credible evidence. I'll admit that I would be thrilled if Superman was alive, but we just don't know." She made sure to emphasize those last few words. Perry's frustration at not being able to use the information he had was making him careless.

Perry caught her message and looked a little embarrassed. "Yeah, right. Well, I'll sure be glad when we do know something. You're sure Clark has some kind of lead on this?"

She had to fight to keep from laughing. "He said he'd been sworn to secrecy. He was very excited about that lead and he told me to be patient."

***

"So you think we'll be able to get all of these?" Clark asked, looking at the long list in front of him.

"Dr. Klein thinks so," Alyson answered. She'd been going over the list with him while Bernie checked equipment. "Based on how quickly you were able to navigate last time, and the ease with which you diverted the large fragments, we think it's doable. Our concern is that you'll have trouble finding all of these smaller fragments. After all, we are talking about nearly a thousand individual pieces."

"I agree. But there's a lot of empty in that cloud. Anything as large as two meters in diameter will be noticeable. Are you sure it will be safe to let smaller fragments through?"

"We think so," she replied. "I wish I could say we were sure that this would completely eliminate all of the threats, but we can't."

At that moment Bernie came up to the two of them. "If you try for smaller ones, there are just too many. Even with the extra time and your improvements in locating the fragments, all our calculations show that you'll be lucky to divert these. If we were to try to go smaller -- let's say down to one meter -- there would be more than you could deflect even if you kept flying round trips up to the moment the Swarm passed the Earth. You have to believe us when we say that this is the best use of your time and the equipment we have."

"If only I had more time," Clark mused.

"Well, you do have a little more time, and that's part of this calculation. Remember that since the cloud is moving so fast, instead of the one hundred thirty minutes you had the first time, you will be able to spend one hundred seventy minutes working in the cloud. That's part of why we have as many targets as we do. You will need every one of those extra minutes."

"Okay. How long until we are ready?"

Bernie looked at the survival pack. "The battery pack has been changed out and the air tanks have been replaced. You could go right now, but I'd feel better if you could give us about ten minutes to run a set of tests before you go."

"Do you need me for those tests?"

"Only the radio test, and we'll run that one just before you leave after you put the pack on."

"Good. I have an errand to run that will take about five minutes."

"Errand?" Bernie asked.

"I promised Ms. Lane that I would give her the go-ahead to publish the story of what we did here."

"That's right. I've been so caught up in what we've been doing that I forgot about that part. Are you sure Mr. Kent has been monitoring the communications on that spare radio link? I was sure he would say something."

"I'm sure. He swore not to say a word but I'm sure he's hearing everything." Clark looked at the wall clock. "It's almost noon now. I'll tell her that she can release the story at five p.m."

"Shouldn't we wait an extra few minutes so that we know that you make it back safely?"

Clark almost said that wasn't important, but he knew better. "I'll ask her how she wants to handle it. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"All, right. I'll get on these tests," Bernie said.

Clark shot out of STAR Labs and was inside their apartment in only a second. He went quickly to the phone and dialed Lois's desk.

"Lois Lane," he heard when she answered the phone.

"Hi, honey. I'm back home for a minute. I missed you and wanted to say hello."

He heard her breath catch. "Clark, I'm... I'm glad you found time to call me. How's the... assignment going?"

"Good. Everything is going according to plan. If fact, it's turning out to be a little easier than I expected."

"You said you're home for a minute. That means you aren't done?"

"No. The... interview this morning went well, but I need to have another go at this source. I was able to get all of the bigger pieces of information that I need, but there are a lot of smaller items that still need my attention."

Lois was quiet for a few seconds. "Are you sure you're up to this? We know that this source can be very dangerous if you approach him wrong. If you aren't at the top of your game... Well, you know what happened last time."

"Honey, I promise you that I won't be taking any unnecessary risks. The guy that I'm collaborating with on this work has cautioned me several times about the same thing."

"Okay," Lois said, nervousness clear in her voice. "When will I be hearing from you?"

"It will be about five hours from now. When all the work is done, I'm going to head for home. I'll ask the other guy to call you and let you know that everything went well and that I'm nearly home."

"Clark..." she sounded choked up.

"Honey, are you okay?"

"Yes," she replied deliberately. "I... Please be careful. I need you to come back."

He'd been afraid this would happen. Their rule was nothing on the phone that would reveal his Superman identity. But this was an extraordinary situation. "Lois, I wouldn't be doing a second round unless I was sure this would be successful. I love you and will be with you tonight. Okay?"

"Clark, please call me the minute you get home."

"I will. And I'll see you in a few hours. Good bye. I love you."

"Bye," she replied. "I love you too."

As Clark hung up the phone, he wished he was as confident as he'd told her he was.

Chapter 5: Too Many

Lois's feelings as she hung up the phone were all mixed up. First, and most importantly, she was relieved that Clark was okay. She'd tried to maintain a positive attitude, but she'd been all too aware that she'd nearly lost him last time he tried to take on Nightfall.

She was relieved to hear that he was back safe, but now he was heading back out again. Lois tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that he'd had a successful mission, and that there should be every reason to believe that this would go well. Furthermore, since he'd already dealt with all of the largest fragments, this trip should be easier than the first.

A glance across the bullpen reminded her of the problem at hand. Perry wanted to run the story. Lois decided to deal with this one now and get it over with. She stood and headed for Perry's door. She started to knock but he waved her in before she could.

"Tell me you have something I can use," Perry said anxiously.

Lois sat in the chair heavily. "I heard from Clark. Superman came back to Earth to replace his air tanks and he's headed back out. From what Clark told me, Dr. Klein and Superman decided that there was enough danger from the remaining smaller fragments that he was going on a second mission."

"So Superman is going to divert all the fragments?" Perry asked.

"Clark didn't say. I got the impression that there had always been a possibility of two trips. I know that the goal of the first trip was to try to divert all the city-destroyers. I think this trip is to take care of as much of the rest as possible. I'm sure Clark will have all the details when it's all over."

Perry considered her news for a minute. "Do you know if there's going to be another trip after this one? Is it possible that Superman will keep doing these trips over and over until the Swarm passes?"

"No," Lois answered. "I do know that Dr. Klein only had enough supplies for two missions. I also know that Superman talked with... his advisors, and they convinced him that now that he's returned, it's in the best interest for the people of the Earth if he survives instead of risking killing himself trying to divert every stone that's heading this way."

Perry's eyes went wide. "Superman's advisors? Since when did Superman have advisors? And how do you know about them? Can we get an interview? Now that would be a story! I can see..."

"Perry!" she barked, cutting him off. "I shouldn't have said anything. We can mention that Superman has advisors, but we can't know anything about them."

"So how do you know what happened? Unless..." Perry just let that hang.

The stillness sat between them for several long seconds. "Okay, I might have been in the room during the conversation," she admitted. "But that's for your ears only. There's more to Superman than anyone knows."

"Were you... in the room with his advisors... before Nightfall? I remember that you had a meeting with him."

That caught her off guard. "No," she answered quickly. "That meeting was something else entirely. Superman doesn't remember anything from before Nightfall so neither he nor I know if he had advisors before. As for this time, he was looking for input from people he trusts. I can't tell you who else was there but he included Clark and me because of the stories we wrote after Nightfall."

"Do you think he would be open to talking about the fact that he has advisors at all? It would be a great follow-up story and would help people to feel better connected to him."

"I don't know, Perry. He's actually a very private person. But I'll ask."

"Good," Perry replied. "We'll talk about that some more later. If he agrees to let us publish anything, it will make good follow-up." He paused for a few seconds. "So where are we now?"

"Superman's is on his way back to the Swarm. I don't know any details beyond that. I'm sure Clark will be able to fill us in on the details when Superman gets finished."

"How long will that be?"

"The support pack is designed for five hours and that's how long the first trip lasted. I'd have to guess that it will be that long again."

"And there isn't going to be any information until that time?"

"Not that I know of. Like I told you earlier, my understanding is that the only people involved are Superman and Dr. Klein. I figure if Dr. Klein is busy guiding Superman, there won't be anyone available to do a press release."

"Then the best we can do is be ready."

"And hope for the best," Lois added.

***

"Target seven ninety-six is done. I'm moving on to target seven ninety-seven." Clark oriented himself and started for the coordinates that Bernie had given him. He was thankful that now the time delay for messages between him and Dr. Klein was down to less than thirty seconds. The time reduction made the effort much easier, but it also reminded him that the cloud was approaching the Earth very quickly.

He'd just reached seven ninety-seven when he heard Bernie's voice. "Target seven hundred ninety-eight is negative eighty-two degrees horizontal and plus twenty-four degrees vertical."

"Target seven ninety-seven is done. Moving on to seven ninety-eight," Clark reported.

He'd barely started for seven ninety-eight when he heard Bernie's voice again. "Superman, are you doing all right? Over the last few minutes, your vital signs have started to change. These readings are suggestive of signs of extreme fatigue."

Now that Bernie pointed it out, he had been feeling a little more strained the last few minutes. As he approached the fragment it became apparent that this was one of the larger ones he'd seen on this second trip. When he pushed on it he felt a wave of fatigue pass through him. It moved, but this had been harder to move than the largest ones from the first trip. "Target seven ninety-eight is done. Dr. Klein, I have not received coordinates for seven ninety-nine. I'm waiting for direction. As for how I feel, I am starting to feel more tired."

Just as he was finishing this message the radio came alive. "Target seven hundred ninety-nine is positive fifteen degrees horizontal and plus forty-three degrees vertical. And I am becoming very concerned about your vital signs. Please report on how you feel."

"I'm starting for seven ninety-nine," Clark said. He didn't bother repeating how he felt. Even though they were shorter now, these long time delays were still confusing.

He was still on his way to seven ninety-nine when he heard Bernie's reply. "I'm becoming concerned at your vital signs. Go ahead and take care of seven hundred ninety-nine and report. However, just wait there after you finish. I want to see what your vitals do, and we may have to change our plan."

A moment later, Clark reached the target. This was another large fragment. Clark gave it a shove. As with the last one, the strain was much larger than he'd been experiencing earlier. "Seven ninety-nine is done. I'm definitely feeling more strain now. I'll wait here for further instructions."

"Superman, I believe we need to change the mission parameters," Bernie's voice betrayed concern. "During the last two deflections your vital signs jumped alarmingly. I also noticed that on the way to seven hundred ninety-nine, you were flying much more slowly than you have been. I think we need to consider terminating the mission."

"We still have nearly two hundred more to go. We need to complete the mission," Clark retorted.

"Based on what I'm seeing from your bio-monitors, I fear that there is a non-trivial probability that if you try for all those, you won't make it back. Alyson has been reviewing the remaining fragments and has identified those that pose the highest threat. Based on these criteria, I would like to limit your remaining efforts to only eleven fragments. Please let me know when you are ready."

Clark almost snapped back that this was too important, but he remembered Lois's admonishment. In the long run he could help more people by surviving today. "Very well, we'll limit this to eleven more targets. I'm ready to go as soon as you can provide the coordinates."

***

As Clark approached target eleven he could hardly believe how much he was sweating. He was soaked and could feel his heart pounding. He reached the fragment, which looked to be roughly twenty-five meters across, and pushed it. It seemed to take all his strength before the large boulder changed direction. "Target eleven is done. I'm waiting for your confirmation and ready to head back."

"I have confirmed that eleven was deflected. Please start back now. But be careful not to push yourself too hard." There was a brief pause and Clark almost replied when Bernie started again. "You look awful."

"I'm starting back," Clark replied. "And how do you know I look awful?"

"Your vitals are all running much lower than I've seen them. And you're barely making eight hundred kilometers per second. At that rate it will take you an hour to get back. That's within your safety margin but just barely."

Clark would have sworn that he'd been flying as fast as he had been on his first trip out this morning. "Understood. I am going to try to fly a little faster. Could you please update me on my speed and my stress levels?" Then Clark tried to accelerate. This should have been easy, but he could feel the act of accelerating taking a toll. The good news was that once he increased his speed, it took almost no effort to maintain it in the vacuum of space.

"I see you over eight hundred and fifty kilometers per second now," Bernie reported. "Please be careful. That acceleration is placing a great deal of strain on you."

Clark kept pushing. He needed to get home. He needed to see Lois. With that thought, he made one more push to accelerate. As his effort hit a peak, he felt another wave of dizziness wash over him.

"Superman! Please report! Superman! Superman!"

Clark shook himself. Why was Bernie yelling at him? "Superman reporting. What's the problem?"

Bernie's yelling continued for about ten more seconds due to the time delay. "Superman, thank goodness. You must have blacked out. You were accelerating and all the sudden your vital signs spiked and then dipped to a dangerously low level. I haven't heard from you for over ten minutes. You're on course for Earth and are coasting at just over fourteen hundred kilometers per second. That will get you back in approximately twenty minutes. Please save your strength for decelerating when you reach Earth."

He'd been out for ten minutes? "Confirmed, Dr. Klein. I'll coast and try to regain my strength. I feel better now, but I can tell that I'm not right."

"I'm glad you're back with me. I'm not sure that even you could survive a re-entry and collision at fourteen hundred kilometers per second. I suggest when you get back to Earth, if you have any trouble slowing down, you might come in at a shallow angle and let the atmosphere help with your deceleration. That should require less effort as long as you are careful about temperature."

"I'll keep that in mind. However, I suspect that after my little nap and twenty more minutes of coasting, I shouldn't have a problem slowing down."

"Your vitals are steady now, but they aren't getting much better. Please keep the atmospheric braking option in mind."

"I will. When do you plan to tell anyone what we did?"

"I have a short announcement that I typed up last night. Actually I have two announcements. One is intended for EPRAD and the government types and the second that is more of a press release. My original plan was to send them to Dr. Aames at EPRAD and the STAR Labs PR department at about this time. However, since the notes assume you survived the mission, I want to make sure that you really make it back. I'll issue the release the moment you get back."

"Okay, Dr. Klein. I'll do my best to make sure that your release is correct and I survive the mission."

***

Twenty minutes later Clark was lying on the floor in Dr. Klein's lab. He'd been able to come straight in and hadn't blacked out. Not quite. But he'd never felt so tired. "Superman, do you need me to call an ambulance?" Dr. Summers asked.

"No," Clark insisted. "Just give me another minute and I'll be fine. I'll go... home and rest for a day or two."

"Home?" Bernie asked.

"Please, let's just leave it at that for now."

"I understand, Superman. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to realize that you've had to be somewhere these past months."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything about it."

"Of course. All we know is that you came to do the missions and left when you were done. I think it would be good for the public to know how much effort it took for you to do this. Would you mind if we reported that element of your mission?"

Clark thought for a minute. Now that he was going to be in the public eye, it wouldn't hurt for the people to know that he was willing to push himself to the breaking point to help. "Sure," Clark said after a moment. "People deserve to know the details. It would also serve to explain why I didn't do a third mission to try to divert even more fragments. Just don't say anything about where I went after the mission, other than to recover."

"That's what we'll do," Bernie said.

"Then I think I'm strong enough to go now. I'm sure that the government and press will have all kinds of requests. I plan to give a press conference in a few days after I've recovered. Good luck handling all this. I didn't intend to leave you to do it on your own."

"That's all right, Superman. You already did the heavy lifting today. We can take it from here."

"Good. I'll be in touch."

Before Bernie could reply, Clark used a burst of super speed to exit the building. He was home only a second or two later. He wasted no time getting to the real reason for his quick departure from STAR Labs. The phone rang only once before he heard, "Lois Lane."

"Hi, honey. I'm home."

"Clark," she replied. He loved the fact that he could tell from her tone how much she'd worried. "Aren't you home a little early?"

"Yeah," he answered, letting his fatigue come through in his voice. "The... interview was mostly over and I started getting tired. I needed to cut it short and head for home. It was all I could do to stay awake during the drive."

"I'm coming home right now," Lois said abruptly.

"You can't. You're the only one with the story."

"Perry figured the whole thing out right after all this started. He pulled me into his office and, well, he's been in on it since early this morning."

Perry knew everything? She couldn't mean... "Lois, just what did Perry figure out?"

"That Superman was alive and responsible for diverting the asteroids," she said calmly.

"Oh," Clark sighed. "So where did you tell him that I was today."

"I told him the truth. That you were in an isolated site with a radio monitoring Superman and Dr. Klein."

"I don't think I'm going to be able to write that up this evening," Clark said. "Today took a lot out of me."

"I can tell. Perry has everything he needs to report the essential elements of the story. I spent all day with him, and we have several articles that just need a few details. Is Dr. Klein going to release the information?"

"Yes. He should be starting that process at this very moment."

"Okay, I need to tell Perry to pull the pin and then I'll be on my way home. In the meantime you get some rest."

"I will. I'll see you in a few minutes. And Lois, I love you."

"I love you too. Now get some rest, you've had a full day."

***

As she hung up the phone, Lois fought to calm her nerves. Part of her wanted to rush home right now to be with Clark. She'd always feared that this mission would take a lot out of him, but she still hadn't been ready for the reality of the situation. After all, he was Superman. Now that he had his powers back, he seemed to be indestructible. But of course, as Nightfall had proven the first time, that was far from the truth.

She stood and headed for Perry's office. She had to keep her mind composed to explain to Perry why she needed to rush home to Clark. When she reached Perry's door, he was busy with Samuelson. She knocked once and waited. Both men looked up and Perry held his hand up indicating that she needed to wait.

Less than a minute later Samuelson left. "Come in," Perry offered. "Have you heard from Clark?"

Lois closed the door behind her. "Yes. Unfortunately he's been hurt."

"Hurt? How?" Perry asked.

"He fell at the monitoring station," she lied. "He hit his head when he fell, and was groggy when Superman came for him."

"Is Clark at the hospital?" Perry asked, concern clearly evident in his voice.

Lois had to think fast. "No. Superman X-rayed Clark's head and told him that he would be fine. Superman flew Clark home and he's resting in bed now."

"Okay," Perry said. "So Superman's back?"

"Yes. The second mission is over. I wasn't able to get all the details from Clark, but I get the impression that Superman ran into some difficulty at the end. Other than that, everything went as planned."

"So we need to get ready."

"Yes. Clark told me that Dr. Klein is moving ahead to release the news of Superman's return and the successful Nightfall Swarm mission. We should get someone over there right now."

"You aren't going?"

"No. Clark needs me at home. Besides, we should let someone ask the questions who doesn't already know the answers. We can always augment the report based on Clark's inside information. Our plan had been for him to come in and we'd write it up here, but with Clark hurt I'll need to go to him."

"Is he all right?"

"Sure. Superman checked his head and he'll be fine after he recovers. But it sounds like he may be stuck at home for a day or two. I'll get all of his information about the mission details and email you the story. I'm sure we can have it ready to go along with whatever we are able to develop based on Dr. Klein's announcement."

"Okay, then you should get going. I'll be watching for your email with Clark's mission details."

Lois went directly to her desk. She made sure that she had backup copies of everything she'd written and that she'd sent all of the semi-completed articles to Perry.

The next few minutes passed in a whirlwind as she hurried to get out of the office and navigate her Jeep home without causing -- or at least being part of -- a traffic accident. She wanted to get home so badly that it felt like swimming through molasses, but as she put the key in the door, it had seemed like no time at all.

Lois almost called out as soon as she was inside, but realized just in time that Clark might be sleeping. Sure enough, when she reached the bedroom, there was Clark sound asleep. She stood at the side of the bed next to him. He looked perfectly healthy. Now she had an answer to the question of what a person looks like after spending the day saving the world.

After a moment, she sat down on the side of the bed. Apparently he wasn't that tired because the motion of the bed caused Clark to stir. "Hi," he said sleepily.

"Hi, yourself," she replied. "You look like you've had a hard day."

"Yeah, a long day of business travel can really take it out of you."

"Are you sure you're okay? Does anything hurt?"

"Not really. I think I'm fine," Clark answered. "I just... I wore myself out."

He was hiding something. She could tell. "Clark, tell me exactly what happened."

He hesitated for a second. "I was..."

"Before you say anything," she cut him off. "Assume that I'm going to make Bernie tell me everything that happened to Superman during the mission."

He hesitated for a moment before starting again. "Like I told you earlier, the first mission was easy. Everything went as planned. For the second mission the rocks were all going to be smaller and I'd gotten pretty fast at moving from one to the next, so we tried for a lot more."

"How many?" she asked.

"Nearly a thousand. There were a lot more of those smaller rocks. Anyway, I was about 80 percent done when I started getting tired."

"What did it feel like?" she asked.

"At first it was just that my powers seemed to be running out. Once it was clear that I might have trouble finishing the mission, we decided to cut it short and only divert those that posed the greatest threat. By the time I'd done the last diversion based on that shortened list, I was both weak and tired. Then when I started back, I had trouble flying fast enough. I made a push to get my speed up and... well, I pushed a little too hard and blacked out."

"Oh, Clark," she said as she leaned in to hug him. "How long were you out?"

"About ten minutes," he said softly. "But once I woke up I felt much better."

Lois was about to comment when she heard the front door open. "Lois, Clark?" It was Jonathan's voice.

"We're in here," Lois called. "Come on in."

She looked questioningly at Clark. But before he could reply, Martha came hurrying into the room. "Son, are you okay?"

"Martha, Jonathan, I'm so sorry," Lois apologized sincerely. "When Clark called, all I could think of was to rush home. I should have called you. Clark shouldn't have had to do that."

To Lois's relief, Martha turned and smiled at her. "That's okay, Lois. And the fact is that Clark didn't call either."

"Then how did you know to come?"

"Perry called Alice and said that Clark was at home hurt and that you had lit out of the office like a cat with its tail on fire. Perry thought you looked too frazzled to think to call, so he passed us the news. Alice gave us a ride over."

"But I still should have thought to call," Lois said. She felt so bad. Why hadn't she thought to call Clark's parents?

Martha came over and put her arm around Lois. "It's fine. Really. How could I feel bad that as soon as you heard that Clark was hurt, your only thought was to get to his side?"

"You're sure?" Lois asked. "I feel really bad."

"I'm sure," Martha said, giving Lois a squeeze. Then Martha turned to Clark. "Son, how are you?"

"Tired," he answered. "I haven't felt like this since right after Nightfall."

"You aren't having that burning inside, are you?" Lois asked, suddenly much more worried.

"No," Clark answered. "None of that burning. But I haven't felt this tired since those first few days."

"What burning are you talking about?" Jonathan asked.

"I was pretty beat up when I got back from Nightfall," Clark explained. "The main symptoms, aside from the amnesia, were the fatigue and a sort of burning all over inside. At the time, we thought it was some kind of reaction to the trauma from the building fire and maybe from inhaling smoke. Later on, when we learned I'd been exposed to poison gas, we thought it was some kind of weird reaction to that. Then, once Lois and I figured out who I was, it seemed likely that it was a reaction to the Kryptonite in the gas."

"But there isn't any burning this time?" Lois asked once more, just to be sure.

"No. In fact I'm not even sore. I just have no energy at all," Clark explained. Then he turned to his parents. "Did I ever use up my energy before? I don't remember anything about using my powers growing up."

"Once you got your abilities, they never seemed to run out. At least, not that you ever mentioned," Martha said.

"You didn't even get tired," Jonathan added. "You once stayed up for a few days to see what would happen. You finally went to sleep on the third night, but even then you woke up in a few hours and you said you felt fine."

"What about after doing something big with my super powers?"

"Nothing you ever did growing up seemed to come anywhere near straining your powers," Jonathan said.

"What was the biggest thing I ever did?" Clark asked.

Martha and Jonathan looked at each other for a second as if trying to remember what he'd done. Then Lois realized that she may know this one. "What about when Clark lifted the space transport into orbit? That seemed pretty big to me."

"Of course," Martha said. "That has to be it. You never did anything close to that at home. At least, not that I know about."

"Agreed," Jonathan added. "That would have to be it."

"Then I know the answer," Lois said. "Clark, when you got back from carrying to transport into orbit you didn't seem tired at all. You seemed perfectly normal when you flew me back to the Planet and after that -- as Clark -- you put in a full day's work with no problem."

Clark looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, this was a lot more work than that. When you think about it, I did two missions back-to-back. Even the first mission was more work than lifting the space transport and I felt fine after that."

"So you think you managed to find the limits that were always there?" Martha asked.

"That's my guess," Clark replied.

Lois sat down on the bed again and took her husband's hand. "Please, Clark, if you get into a situation like that again, remember that even you have limits."

He smiled weakly up at her. "Now that I know where they are, I promise I'll be careful."

They were all quiet for a minute and Lois noticed that Clark started to fall asleep again. Then she remembered that Perry was waiting. "Honey, can you stay awake long enough for me to get some mission details? Perry is holding a section of page one for your inside mission information."

"Of course," Clark answered, suddenly alert. "As long as I don't have to do it while running around the block."

"No," she replied. "Not this time. But next time I think we'll do it during Tae Kwon Do practice," she said with a smile. "Now, let me get my pad and we'll get this done so you can get some sleep."

Chapter 6: Distress

Clark continued to be amazed at how quickly the world adapted to Superman's return. In the two weeks since the successful Nightfall Swarm mission, the new routine had come to seem nearly normal. When their role in facilitating the contact between Bernie and Superman came to light, he and Lois had been in the spotlight briefly. But the fact that Superman had insisted that they played no other role in the Swarm mission helped that pass quickly.

For Clark, things were very different. At first, once people knew that Superman was around, calls for his help had been common. However, he'd been able to deal with that issue. It was challenging, but he'd generally been able to stay within the rules that they had all discussed that night before the Nightfall Swarm was announced.

He and Lois had hit on the idea that when Superman had returned from the first Nightfall mission, he'd crashed in another city. There were people there who had helped him recover from his Nightfall injuries and that city -- which would remain unnamed -- was now his home. During the news conference that followed the Swarm mission, he'd stressed that he no longer lived in Metropolis. He'd only made this return in this city because of the presence of people that knew him from the time before he'd lost his memory. Of course, there was also the presence of STAR Labs and Dr. Klein.

That kept the calls of, "Help, Superman" to a minimum. After the first few days, they had pretty much stopped all together. From time to time he did intervene in situations that were particularly dire, but whenever he did so, Clark made sure to make some time and fly to a few other cities in the world and do other rescues as well. His hope was that this created the illusion that his Metropolis rescues were just a matter of his regular around-the-world patrols.

Still, every time he heard a call from somewhere in Metropolis, and chose not to respond, it ate at him a little. But even that one day of hearing an unceasing stream of calls for his aid had convinced him that it was an unsustainable existence. Lois had shown him the statistics and that first day had convinced him of the truth in her numbers. The calls for help in a city the size of Metropolis were endless. Even if he only tried to respond to a small portion of the calls that he heard, he'd never keep up. It was like the Santa Claus problem. There was so much to do that even if Santa only spent a second in each house, even to cover a city the size of Metropolis alone would take over a month. And that was with no travel time from one house to another. Clark had to concede that one man, even a super one, simply couldn't save everyone by himself.

Lois had it right. He could do the most good by being there as a symbol of hope. There were times when he could make a difference, like he did for the Nightfall Swarm, or saving a sinking ship, but for everyday crime, he just couldn't help that much. At least not by trying to do the work himself. So his new focus was doing the big things. He had saved a few ships and helped out in fires. He would be that symbol of hope!

Lois held and reassured him each time he heard of a death that he might have prevented had he responded to a cry for help. Knowing what he did, he had to wonder how he'd handled those situations before he had Lois's active support. And he now knew that however much he had run off to be Superman, he'd been only stopping a small fraction of the crime in this city. Unfortunately -- or perhaps fortunately -- the memories of those times and the decisions he'd made seemed to be lost forever.

This morning he was a few blocks away from the office with Lois and Jimmy. They were covering the demolition of LexCorp Tower. The tallest building in Metropolis had come through the original Nightfall barrage unscathed, but by chance had been one of the few buildings hit by one of the smaller Swarm fragments that Clark had not diverted. The fragment that hit the building had come in almost perfectly vertical to the ground. It had only hit near the base of the building, but that had been more than enough. It had taken out three of the four primary support pillars in the main tower. Then it had expended its energy in the building substructure and compromised the foundation.

The building was still standing, but just barely. There was a genuine fear that at any moment it could topple into one of the other undamaged buildings nearby. The most visible tribute to the power and ego of Lex Luthor had become the most dangerous building in Metropolis. It had to come down, but due to the nature of the damage, there was no conventional way to bring the building down safely and without risking other structures nearby.

When they all arrived at the demolition site, Lois took immediate charge. "Jimmy, why don't you work your way around the building and see what interesting shots you can get? Get some of the building, but look for good shots of the people making this happen. You know... Police, demolition support workers, bystanders, whoever you can see."

"I get it Lois," Jimmy answered. "What about you and CK?"

"I'll come with you and Clark can go the opposite direction. We'll interview people while you take the photographs."

"Got it," Jimmy said. "Should we get started?"

"You go ahead and I'll be right behind you."

Jimmy started off and Lois turned to Clark. "Are you all set?"

"I think so," he replied. "Superman is due to meet with the demolition foreman. I've studied the plans and it should be very easy to take out all the supporting columns."

"I still don't like it," Lois said. "It feels like you're bringing the building down on yourself."

"Well, I am," Clark answered cheerfully, trying to lighten the tone. "But I'll be gone before the building falls." He waited for an answering smile form his wife that never came. She was clearly not in a joking mood about this. Clark moved forward and took her in his arms. "Honey, I'm going to be careful. After the Nightfall Swarm mission, this should be easy. I did a few practice runs and based on the timer I wore, I never had any trouble at all staying ahead of the projected collapse."

She seemed to find his more serious tone more acceptable. "I know. But I still don't like it."

Clark looked at the time. "I need to meet the demolition supervisor."

She released him and stepped back. "Okay. I'll be with Jimmy when you're done."

As Lois turned to follow Jimmy, Clark hurried to a nearby building. He entered the stairwell as Clark Kent and exited the underground parking structure as Superman. A moment later he was descending to the center of demolition planning area.

"Hi, Superman," he heard as soon as he touched down. It was Jerry Foster, the demolition expert that he'd been working with. "Hi, Jerry," Clark said. "Are we about ready?"

"We are," Jerry said confidently. "We've been on a five minute hold for the last twenty minutes."

"Am I late?" Clark asked.

"Not at all," Jerry reassured him. "We had extra time built into our plan in case anything came up. Since things went per plan earlier this morning, there was extra time left over in the schedule."

"Is there anything we need to do before we go ahead?" Clark asked.

"Part of that is up to you," Jerry answered. "We have to wait five minutes after we sound the first demolition warning. That means that we have to wait at least that long before you can do anything. If you want more time to review the plan, we can spend some time on that before we sound the five minute warning."

"Do you have those cards we talked about?" Clark asked.

"Sure," Jerry said as he turned to the table behind him. He picked up a small stack of laminated plastic cards and offered them to Clark. "They're in order from the highest floor to the lowest per the demolition plan. Each card has the number of the floor or floors that are covered by that card."

Clark looked the cards over. Every card had a red line indicating a path for him to follow for the demolition of each floor, and a red X on the columns that he was to remove. There were only seventeen cards since most of the cards covered many floors. These cards were going to be invaluable in the proper demolition of the building. "I'm ready," Clark said. "Sound the five minute warning."

Jerry hesitated. "Superman, are you sure? There are nearly a hundred floors in that building. Once you start you'll only have ten seconds to finish and get out. We can still go with the plan where you plant explosives and we implode it the regular way."

"Jerry, we've been through this. That would take a lot longer. Every hour this building remains standing increases the chance that it could fall in an uncontrolled collapse. That's an unacceptable and unnecessary risk. Besides, based on all my practice runs I'll be done in just under four seconds. That gives me a hundred and fifty percent safety margin."

"I'd feel better personally if your hundred and fifty percent safety margin was a little longer than six seconds. You're sure you don't need to study the levels any more?"

"I'll study them between now and when I start. Go ahead and give the five minute warning."

Jerry turned and headed for a group of men nearby. As Clark started reviewing the cards, he heard a loud siren. One thing that Clark liked about these cue cards was that not only did they show the columns that needed to be removed, they showed the path for the most efficient destruction of each floor.

Clark had finished his second pass through the card deck when another siren sounded. This one was followed by a booming voice announcing, "One minute to demolition."

Clark was wondering if there was going to be a start signal when Jerry approached him once more. "Everything is clear," Jerry said. Then he checked his watch. "If you're ready, it's time."

"Then let's do this," Clark said and took off. He headed for the window on the top floor that had been designated as his start point and entered. This part of the building looked completely undamaged. Clark glanced once more at the cards he was carrying, gathered himself and shifted to super speed.

The world got still and quiet. That was one of the things he liked about super speed. Since he knew that timing was especially critical for this task, he made an extra effort to be sure he was as accelerated as his super speed would allow. After a few seconds -- probably about a micro-second in real time – Clark decided he was ready. He shot toward the first column and hit it as he went by. At this speed, it offered as much resistance as a thin piece of Styrofoam. He followed the route on the card and took out the rest of the supports. His route ended at a wall with a missing window. During planning they'd decided that the best way to go from one floor to the next was the outside of the building. To prevent knocking windows out at super speed, yesterday Clark had removed the sections of glass on each floor.

At first it seemed easy. Clark could tell that he was staying well ahead of the collapse. In fact, a glance toward the top of the building confirmed that he'd taken out twenty floors before the collapse of the top floor had really gotten underway. It was around the fortieth floor from the top that he began to get worried. The columns seemed to be getting harder to break through and he was feeling a noticeable strain to keep his speed up. By the time he worked his way down to the thirtieth floor, it was taking a real effort to punch through the support columns. What was worse, it looked like the collapse was catching up to him.

By the time he reached the twentieth floor, Clark wasn't sure he'd be able to finish. Of course, one of the reasons for starting at the top was that if enough of the building was collapsing, the lower floors would simply be crushed. The key floor was the thirteenth. Once he took out that floor, then he could safely get out of the building and leave the rest to gravity.

The problem happened on the seventeenth floor. He was about half-way through the floor when he ran into a wall that shouldn't have been there. Well, the wall was supposed to be there, but it was supposed to be a nonstructural divider wall. There had been several of these on every floor. Even when not at super speed, he could tear through them like tissue paper.

This started out as one of those no-resistance walls, but in this case, on the other side of the nonstructural wall, there was a very thick wall of concrete and reinforced steel. It had to have been at least six feet thick and was heavy with rebar. In this place at this time, Clark was unprepared for anything like this. When he hit that wall, the first several feet shattered and exploded into a thousand fragments of concrete and steel. But the wall was very thick and the impact stopped his progress. He never had a chance to try to go around because before he could recover, the building fell on him.

***

For Lois, the demolition had gone from an intellectual curiosity to a major news event in a flash. Of course, most of the public didn't know what was wrong nearly as quickly as she did. She'd been standing with Jimmy when the siren sounded marking the beginning of the demolition.

At first she'd been disappointed. The first building ever being imploded by Superman should have looked or felt different. But, except for the lack of the rapid pop-pop-pop that marked the beginning of most building implosions, this looked just like the

others she'd seen.

Shortly after the siren sounded the building started to collapse on itself. She knew that Clark was inside going as fast as his super speed would carry him knocking the building down one level at a time, but the only thing visible from the outside was the collapse.

Once the top of the building started to fall, it just kept on coming . Within a few seconds the dust started to billow up obscuring the view but it was clear that the building was coming down as planned. Seemingly before any time had passed at all, LexCorp Tower was no more.

It wasn't until about ten minutes later that she started to worry. The plan had been for Clark to meet them with the excuse that he'd gotten stuck on the other side of the access street when they'd closed the fence. But once the path had been open to the public and Clark was nowhere to be found, she started wondering.

A few minutes later, the activity around the debris picked up. There was still a lot of dust in the air and Lois was surprised to see anyone trying to work in that mess. She worked her way over to the demolition planning center to find it abuzz with activity.

She stopped one of the workers as he hurried by, "What's all the excitement?" she asked.

"The foreman thinks Superman may be in there somewhere."

Lois's mouth fell open. Based on Clark's absence, it seemed all too likely that the supposition was correct. "Do you know what they're trying to do?"

"You'd have to ask the foreman. We've all been told to be ready to go in once the dust settles a little. I think they are trying to figure out how to locate Superman if he's buried in there. I'm sorry, but I need to get going," and the worker turned and hurried on his way.

"Do you really think Superman got caught in the collapse?" Jimmy's voice startled her. She'd been so caught up in the moment she'd completely forgotten that he was right behind her.

"It's possible. If something went wrong... well, that building came down awfully fast."

"But wouldn't Superman just break out on his own?"

She turned to face her young colleague, "I don't know," she barked at him. "All I know is that he isn't here."

Jimmy was taken aback at her tone. "I... I just mean, well, he's Superman. Besides, how do they know he just didn't hear another emergency call?"

Lois had to remind herself that she couldn't be too distressed about his condition. For the rest of the world, he was Superman, not Clark. She couldn't react as if it were her husband that might be buried in the rubble. "You're right. We need to see what the foreman knows."

It only took a moment to work their way to the command post. It was easy to see who was in charge from the swirl of activity around him and the orders he was giving. She rushed right up to him and inserted herself into the fray. "Excuse me. I'm Lois Lane of the Daily Planet. Can you tell me what's happened?"

He paused as soon as he heard her name. "Lois Lane," he asked. "You're a friend of Superman's, aren't you?"

"Yes. I heard some of the talk on the way in. Do you believe he's under that?" she asked, pointing in the direction of the collapsed building.

"I do," he said. "Superman had promised that he'd check in as soon as he finished the demolition. I can't think of any other reason that he didn't keep that appointment."

"Perhaps he heard an emergency call," Lois offered, echoing Jimmy.

"Superman and I talked about that possibility. He promised that if he heard a call, he would leave a note before he left the area. See that chalk board?" he asked, pointing at a large, blank chalkboard. "The only reason that's here is in case he needed to leave a note quickly." Then he walked over to the board and pointed at two pieces of chalk. "Those have not been touched. I wish I had an alternate explanation, but I have to believe that Superman never made it out of that building."

"If he's in there, do you have any idea how to get him out?"

"We're going in as soon as we can get the equipment here. Our best hope is to start digging through the rubble as quickly as possible. My biggest fear is that we may hurt him more if we go in too aggressively. I'm not sure what to do."

Lois thought for a minute. "Superman is invulnerable. The biggest risk for him will be if he is deprived of air for too long. My suggestion is that you go in with the most powerful equipment you have on site and start digging."

"I'm not sure," he said doubtfully.

"Listen to me," Lois flamed. "My husband and I know Superman better than anyone. Your equipment isn't a threat to him. Besides, that whole building just fell on him. A piece of excavation equipment can't do any more harm than the falling building. So get that equipment moving now!"

The man seemed taken aback at her attitude. But to his credit he knew what to do when he faced a determined Lois Lane. "Yes, ma'am," he said. Then he turned to the audience that had gathered during their talk, "You heard the lady. Get every piece of digging equipment in there now. Charlie, call the equipment yard, have them send everything they have that can dig. Bill, contact MPD and ask for their help in clearing the streets to bring in the equipment." The men seemed to be frozen in shock and hesitated. "Move, people," Jerry yelled, "We need to start digging through that rubble."

***

Less than ten minutes after Jerry had sent out the call, the heavy equipment started arriving. Ten minutes after that they'd had to send out a second call that no more equipment would fit in the area. There were front-loaders and bull dozers all around the building. There simply wasn't room for any more to operate without getting in each other's way.

And the people... Every piece of equipment that was working near the building carried a few extra people watching for any sign of red or blue. Lois knew from exposes on construction safety that these people were violating every rule in the book, but that didn't matter right now. This was a rescue operation and everyone involved thought that rescuing Superman would be worth the risk.

"Lois?"

She turned to find Jimmy coming up behind her. His voice was muffled by the filter mask he was wearing because of all the dust being stirred up. Everyone in the area had to wear them or get kicked off the site. "Hi, Jimmy. Did you see anything on the other side of the site?"

"No, just more digging." He held up a note pad she'd given him. "I've been talking to the workers. I never realized how hard it is to come up with different questions to ask. I've got some good stuff here, but most of it is more about how everyone feels looking for Superman."

She managed a weak smile. "Touchy-freely stuff. Clark will love it," she said, her voice catching at the end.

Jimmy obviously noticed his distress. "Have you heard from CK yet?"

"No, but I'm sure he's fine," she lied. "You know how he gets an idea in his head and just takes off sometimes. I can't imagine where he went, but I will definitely be giving him a piece of my mind when I see him."

She watched Jimmy digest what she'd said. Jimmy was smart enough to see that she was scared. Fortunately, he was also smart enough to see that he shouldn't call her on Clark's current whereabouts. "So how is the Superman search going?" he asked.

Lois turned back to face the work area. "They're making incredible progress. All we can do is hope that they find him soon."

Jimmy glanced at his watch. "It's been twenty minutes. How long do you think he can survive buried under all that?"

"I don't know," she replied, holding her voice steady. "Superman once told me that he could hold his breath for over twenty minutes, but I don't think he ever had to go longer than that." She took a second to compose herself before continuing. "It looks like they've moved more than half of the rubble so far. I have to believe that they will find him soon."

As if on cue Lois noticed a sudden commotion on one side of the zone. "Come on," she shouted over her shoulder to Jimmy. Without waiting to see if he was behind, she took off at a run. Thank goodness that she'd chosen to skip heels today. She hadn't gone far before she could make out shouts of, "We've found him," echoing around the site.

By the time Lois reached the recovery spot, paramedics had arrived and Clark was on a gurney. The colors of his red and blue uniform were barely visible under the white concrete dust. She rushed up to his side only to be held back by the police that had established a quick perimeter. "I need to see him," she shouted. "I'm Lois Lane of the Daily Planet."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lane. Everyone wants to be there. We need to let the paramedics do their work."

"But I have information that might help."

He looked at her for a second. Maybe he knew her history with Superman, or maybe he saw something in her eyes, but whatever he saw, he released her arm and let her through.

"How is he!" she barked as soon as she reached the gurney.

"Who are you?" one of the paramedics asked.

"I'm Lois Lane. I'm one of the few people that have any knowledge of Superman's medical background."

He immediately changed his attitude. "Thank God. I was scared to do anything. I'm Carl, and that's Cindy and Jacob," he said indicating the other paramedics. "What can you tell us?"

"First of all, what's his condition?" she asked.

"He's alive, but if he were a human I'd say just barely."

"Have you tried to start an IV?"

"We tried, but the needle won't penetrate his skin."

Lois smiled. If he was invulnerable, it probably meant that Kryptonite had not been involved. And best of all, he was alive. "That's a good sign," she said. "Except for a few differences, like the invulnerability, you can treat him like a normal person. All of his internal organs are the same and his vital signs mean pretty much the same as for a normal person. What is important for right now is that you give him as much oxygen as possible."

"We already have him on straight oxygen," Carl said, cutting her off.

"I just wanted to make sure," Lois offered. "The other thing he needs is direct sunlight."

"Sunlight?" Cindy asked.

"Yes," Lois said, glancing around at the bright blue sky above and the sun shining down. "You need to keep him in the sun as much as possible. In fact, do you have any scissors?"

Jacob reached into a supply bag and brought out a pair. "Here," he offered.

"Cut off the uniform," she said. "Just leave enough to... protect his modesty. And remove his boots. We want to have as much of his bare skin exposed to direct sunlight as possible."

Cindy produced another pair and tried to cut the uniform. Unfortunately, the scissors wouldn't cut. After struggling for a few seconds, the young woman looked helplessly at Lois. "I can't cut this. His uniform seemed to be as invulnerable as he is."

Lois thought for a second. "Try lifting the cloth away from his skin and then cutting the material."

Cindy tried and once she got the material approximately an inch away from his skin, the scissors were able to cut the cloth. "That does it," Cindy said. "How did you know that would work?"

"Um... Just something Superman told me once," she said vaguely. "Please, let's just focus on getting the uniform off."

Fortunately, the paramedics were more concerned about helping the fallen hero to worry about the source of Lois's valuable information. Lois helped Carl pull off the boots while the other paramedics cut away the Superman suit. They finished with his top and Jacob started to cut away the legs of his pants. Lois caught Cindy admiring her husband for an extra few seconds, but before she could comment the younger woman had gone to work on Clark's other leg. In less than a minute Superman was wearing only those red briefs that she teased him about sometimes.

"Now what?" Carl asked once the clothes were off.

"Now we wait," Lois answered.

"Shouldn't we transport him?" Jacob asked.

"Not unless you have a way to move him and keep him in the sun. Direct sunlight will do him far more good than being in a hospital room."

Cindy had been checking his vitals. "She's right. His heart beat is stronger."

Carl looked at the position of the sun and the surrounding skyline. "Ms. Lane, I don't think we will be able to get more than about another hour of sunlight. Normal procedure would be to transport him as quickly as possible."

Lois was still relishing Cindy's report that Clark was growing stronger. For that alone she had forgiven the young woman for ogling her husband. But Carl needed an answer. "If this were any normal patient, you wouldn't be listening to me in the first place. But he's not, so you have to." She took a breath to calm herself. "Carl, I guarantee that when Superman regains consciousness, he will support everything I've told you."

"Are you his designated next-of-kin?" he asked.

"No. Superman never thought he needed that. But I will be after he wakes up. In any case, all I'm asking you to do is wait here for as long as we have sunlight. As soon as we lose the sun you can take him to the hospital. Okay?"

Carl took only a moment to decide. "Fine. But if he starts getting weaker, we go."

"Agreed," she replied.

"So who is Superman's doctor?" Carl asked. "We need to inform him and have everything ready at the hospital."

"Dr. Bernard Klein," she answered. "He works out of STAR Labs."

"Does he have admitting privileges at Metropolis General?" Carl asked.

"I doubt it," Lois answered. "He's more of a Superman scientist than a medical doctor."

"Then Superman will get the admitting physician at Met Gen. That's where I have to take him and his doctor needs to be someone with hospital privileges."

Lois thought for a minute. "What would have to happen for you to take him somewhere else?"

"You mean another hospital?"

"No. I mean STAR Labs."

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

"What would have to happen?" Lois insisted.

"I'd need to get direction from both the hospital and my supervisor at the ambulance agency."

"Expect a call," she barked, as she reluctantly turned away, leaving her husband, for the moment, in the hands of the paramedics. Now what was the President's phone number?

Chapter 7: Loss

The Metropolis General emergency room was not where Lois had planned to be at this time. An hour ago, she'd been sure that she had enough influence to change the destination for Superman's ambulance. However, she'd come face to face with reality.

First she'd tried calling Dr. Klein. He said he'd be happy to work with a medical doctor, but was unwilling to force himself into the middle of things and insist he be named as Superman's physician without more real familiarity with his potential patient.

Then Lois had tried calling in favors from the military. She had some friends, and at first she thought that approach was going to work. However, when her contacts got back to her, she learned that her initial secrecy about Superman's return had come with a political price tag. Both the military and space establishments had been embarrassed at being out of the loop for the Nightfall Swarm mission, and for the moment, Lois was not going to get any help.

Finally, out of pure desperation, she tried calling in some favors from the mayor and city council. Apparently she wasn't owed any favors.

She'd tried three avenues of attack -- science, the military and political -- and they'd all failed. Her last hope had been that Clark would regain consciousness before he was transported, but that didn't happen either. So here she was, surrounded by others from the media who were looking to get the jump on the story of Superman's hospitalization.

"Lois," came a familiar voice from behind.

She turned to see Dr. Klein approaching from the far door. "Hi, Bernie. Thank you for coming."

"Not a problem at all. Do you have anything new on Superman's condition?"

"No. The sunlight seemed to help, but he never woke up."

"I'll do what I can," he said, "but I'm honestly at a loss as to how to approach taking care of Superman. Do you know anything about any previous injuries? Did he tell you any details about the aftermath of the first Nightfall mission?"

Lois considered her answer carefully. Ever since this afternoon she'd been thinking that it was way past time for Clark to have a doctor. "Did you have time to think about a possible doctor for Superman?" she asked, ducking the question for the moment. "I mean on a long term basis." she added quickly. "Would you be able to provide medical support for Superman?"

"Probably," he answered with some hesitation. "I guess it depends on how close his physiology is to that of a human."

"So if he's more like a normal man, you would recommend yourself?"

"No. I would only be the best choice if his physiology is less like that of a human. The closer he is to a normal man, then the better he will be served by having a regular medical doctor."

Before Lois could reply there was a commotion at the ambulance entrance and a scattering of, "That's the one!" and "He's here!"

Lois started toward the center of the commotion, but her desire for a little isolation left her too far from the ambulance entrance. The other reporters had her quite effectively blocked out. "I should go meet with the admitting doctor," Bernie said. "I spoke with him before I came over. He seemed glad to have my input."

"Go," Lois said, "But I'd like to continue our discussion later."

Bernie nodded then turned and headed through the door that led to the treatment rooms. As soon as he turned away, Lois started working her way through the other reporters. She'd been in this town too long to let a little pushing and shoving get between her and her story. And when the story was her husband... well the other reporters wouldn't know what hit them.

One advantage of being a smallish woman was that she could slip around and through spaces that most men didn't even realize were there. Of course, a few carefully aimed elbows also came in handy. By the time Carl and Jacob were pulling Clark's gurney out of the ambulance, she was right at the front of the group.

"Carl!" she shouted at the paramedic, "How is he?"

The paramedic glanced her way. Why was he smiling? "You can ask him yourself," he said as he pulled the gurney out.

An instant later Lois had her answer. They pulled Clark's gurney out feet first. When his head cleared the ambulance he was awake and smiling in her direction. Her first thought was to run to him, but fortunately the crowd of reporters prevented her from making such a mistake. It wouldn't do for the wife of Clark Kent to be seen hugging Superman just as he came off the ambulance. There were shouts from other reporters, but Lois barely noticed them. All she knew was that her husband was awake and smiling at her.

The reporters tried to follow Superman into the examination room, but the hospital seemed to be well-supplied with large, intimidating orderlies who quite effectively blocked the door. As soon as Carl and Jacob disappeared into the room, Lois realized that she might be able to get some information from Cindy. Unsurprisingly, by the time Lois had reached the ambulance, the young paramedic was surrounded by reporters and being peppered with questions.

"No," Cindy said, "he didn't tell us anything about what happened in the building. He only regained consciousness a few minutes before we arrived here."

"What did you give him to wake him up?"

"Nothing. We couldn't start an IV because the needle wouldn't penetrate his skin. And he was unconscious, so we couldn't give him anything orally."

"What did he say when he regained consciousness?"

"He asked what had happened, and how long he'd been out. He also asked if anyone else had been hurt during the building collapse. In general, I'd say that he seemed more concerned about someone else getting hurt than he was in his own condition."

"When..."

"There isn't anything else," Cindy insisted, cutting off the question. "Like I said a moment ago, he only woke up just before we arrived, and that's all we know. Now, I still have to clean up this ambulance for our next call, so please excuse me." The nearest reporters barely had time to get clear before she had closed the ambulance doors from the inside.

Lois headed back inside the ER. There was no way she was going to go home until she knew what was happening with Clark. Then she realized that she already had more data on the story then most of the reporters here. Only a handful of reporters knew that Clark had woken up inside the ambulance and even fewer were aware of the details she'd heard from Cindy.

The pay phone was taken, but Lois remembered something from when she had been in high school and had volunteered as a candy striper in this hospital. She headed into the general care wing and found an empty room. Sure enough, there was an unused phone that would be perfect for calling in the story.

She was about to dial the number for the Planet when she remembered her earlier error in not updating Clark's parents. So, instead of dialing the Planet, she dialed her own phone number. She'd asked Clark's parents to wait at their apartment until Clark could resurface. She figured that they might come in handy for providing an excuse for his whereabouts during this time. The phone only rang once.

"Martha Kent speaking."

"Martha, it's Lois," Lois said in hushed tones.

"Do you have news on Clark?" Martha asked, the concern evident in her voice.

"Not about Clark," she said cautiously. "I haven't seen him all afternoon. But I have information about Superman."

"Oh," Martha said. "Of course. Well, how is Superman?" she asked, obviously remembering the phone protocols that Lois and Clark had insisted on.

"I'm at the hospital. Superman's ambulance arrived a few minutes ago. I haven't been able to get close enough to find out anything yet, but he was awake when he came off the ambulance. He was smiling."

"That's great news. So he's going to be okay?" Martha asked.

"I think so," Lois answered, trying to sound confident. "I wish he would have just flown away when he came off the ambulance, but I guess we have to be happy that he's awake."

"He'll be fine," Martha assured her.

"Thanks," Lois replied. "I wish we could talk longer, but I need to go. I have to call in the story of Superman's arrival at the hospital into the Planet."

"I understand, Lois. Do you want me and Jonathan to stay here?"

"Yes, please. If Clark shows up at home, someone should be there."

"We'll stay for now," Martha said. "Try not to worry too much."

"I'll do my best. Good bye."

Lois heard the phone click signaling the end of the call. Lois took a deep breath and composed her thoughts for calling in the story, then dialed the Planet.

***

No matter what she tried, she couldn't fall asleep. Lois had been at the hospital for more than an hour after calling in the updates to the Superman story. She'd been hoping that she would be there to see Superman come out of the ER room and fly away. Unfortunately there had been no announcement and Perry had finally sent Nicholson to relieve her. She'd only left when Nicholson promised to call her immediately if anything happened. Once she got home, she briefed Clark's parents on the cover story she'd invented, and sent them off to the White's to try to get some sleep. At that point she was thinking that Clark would be home any minute.

But he wasn't. What had happened? Why wasn't Clark home yet? Once she'd discovered Clark's other identity, she'd been relieved that the one thing she didn't need to worry about was his well-being. After all, nothing could hurt Superman. At least, nothing but that Kryptonite stuff, and other than the samples that were left-over from the original Nightfall mission, there didn't seem to be any more of that. But between the Nightfall Swarm and what happened today, she was getting the impression that being married to Superman was as stressful as being married to a cop or a soldier.

"Lois," she heard from the outer room. "Are you awake?"

"Clark," she cried as she jumped out of bed.

Before she could even reach the archway that separated their sleeping area from the rest of the apartment, she reached her husband. In an instant her arms were around him and pulling him tightly against her. "I was so worried," she said softly.

"I know," he replied. "I'm sorry. I should have been more careful before I tried to do something like demolishing a building."

All of the sudden the phone rang. Right this moment Lois didn't feel like letting go of her husband. After a few rings the answering machine engaged. "Ms. Lane, this is Veronica Nicholson. Superman came out of the ER room about a minute ago. He super-sped away without saying anything to anyone. I'm trying to get some information from the doctors, but so far they aren't saying anything either. I have the office cell phone and I'll be here at least another twenty minutes if there is something you need."

The phone disconnected and Lois looked at her husband. "So what do the doctors know?"

"Nothing. They gave me some pills for the pain, but that's all."

"Where do you hurt?" Lois asked, concerned.

"I sort of ache all over. But it isn't bad anywhere."

"Clark, what happened? Did the building just catch up with you?"

"No. There was a wall that wasn't supposed to be there."

"We talked about that possibility. I thought you could tear through walls with no problem."

"This was reinforced concrete, and it had to have been more than six feet thick. I could batter through it, but at that time and in that place, it stopped me cold. Before I could recover, the building was coming down on top of me."

"What was a wall like that doing there?" Lois asked. "I thought you double checked the building a few days ago to make sure that the plans you had matched the actual building structure."

"I did," Clark confirmed. "I thought I had checked everything, but I must have accidentally skipped over that floor. I don't know how I managed to miss that wall during my check. Also, based on all the research that Jerry did before the demolition, that wall should not have been there."

"Lex had a lot of secrets," Lois suggested. "Maybe it was something like that."

"Maybe," Clark agreed. "I need to ask Jerry."

"So how are you now?"

"A little tired and a little sore. I think I'll be fine with some rest and sunlight."

"Had you thought about getting checked out? I mean medically."

"How would I do that? No one has any medical records."

Lois paused for a moment. This idea had been swirling in her mind much of the time Clark was out. "How do you feel about Bernie?"

"I like him."

"Do you trust him?"

"Sure. That's why we went to him for the Swarm mission. Lois, you know that."

"Clark, Bernie has access to the test data from before the first Nightfall mission. He also has copies of Clark Kent's medical records after Nightfall."

Clark's face went very still. "Are you suggesting that we tell him all about Clark Kent and Superman?"

"I think the events of the past six months make it painfully clear that you need a doctor," she said seriously. "The only two that we can even consider trusting are my dad and Bernie. And, aside from any other concerns, my dad isn't the Superman specialist."

"I see your point," Clark said. "But..."

Lois cut him off with a finger to his lips. "But we can we talk about this in the morning," she said. "For right now I'd like to spend the rest of the evening showing you how much I missed you."

***

Two days after the collapse of LexCorp tower, the city was still abuzz about what had happened to Superman. Clark had returned to Superman duties the next day and the only statement that he had given was that he needed to be more careful if he ever decided to help demolish a building again.

Dealing with the general press had been easy. However, handling Perry and Jimmy had been far more difficult. Lois had defended Clark's sudden disappearance by using his parents as an excuse. She had made up a story about Clark's parents being near the demolition site when Jonathan felt ill. Clark's excuse was that he had rushed his dad to his and Lois's apartment and had been there the whole time. Jimmy seemed to buy the story, but they were far less sure of Perry. Their editor had accepted the story with a keen skepticism. Then he'd stopped asking questions. It was the questions that he didn't ask that pretty much convinced both Lois and Clark that he either knew the truth or suspected it strongly enough to back off.

Today they were in Bernie's office at STAR Labs. She'd finally convinced Clark that this was necessary and they both agreed that if anyone was going to know the truth, Bernie was the guy they wanted to trust.

The door to the office opened and Bernie came in. "Sorry I'm late," he said cheerfully as he closed the door and headed to his seat on the other side of his desk. "I've been buried with requests for data ever since the Nightfall Swarm mission."

"People are wanting information about Superman?" Clark asked.

"Not really. Well, there was some of that at first, but mostly it has been requests for how Superman and I performed the intercept mission. The space guys want to make sure that they capture the information that I learned about running that sort of mission."

"What information are they most interested in?" Lois asked.

"Mostly is about how we communicated. They want to know how we worked with the time lag in communications. They have also asked a lot of questions about how I provided Superman guidance information so that he could find the targets. I think they are thinking about future space missions."

"I guess that would be valuable," Clark speculated.

"It is," Bernie agreed. "I didn't think much about it at the time. Superman and I were mostly making it up as we went, just doing what needed to be done. Speaking of which, have you heard from him? How is he?"

Lois looked at Clark and nodded for him to go ahead.

"We're here about him," Clark said. "After the building collapse, he realized that he needed someone to turn to in case he gets injured."

"Yes," Bernie answered. "Lois and I talked about that at the hospital. But I'm not sure I'm the right person."

"Bernie, there's more to this than just taking care of Superman. The person that serves as his doctor will have access to information about him that is very private," Lois said.

"So in this case, the best physician is not necessarily the best person," Clark added.

"I understand," Bernie said seriously.

"Are you willing to take the job and protect Superman's confidences?"

"Of course."

"Good. Then what do you need?"

"I need to see Superman. I'd like to run some follow-up tests to see how the building collapse affected him. It's too bad that he doesn't have a medical history. That would be valuable to provide a background."

Clark took a deep breath. "He has a medical record -- at least a short one. And you already have it."

"What? No I don't. All I have are the results of the tests that we did before the initial Nightfall mission."

"No, you have more than that. You have all of the medical information from when I was recovering from amnesia."

Bernie went stiff. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I am Superman."

"But you can't..." Bernie sputtered. "I've seen the medical reports. I studied them carefully when you were recovering from the gas poisoning. You're a normal man."

"I guess there are differences that don't show up in normal tests."

Bernie looked back and forth between Lois and Clark. He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say, but no words come out.

Lois turned to her husband. "Clark, show him."

Clark glanced in the direction of the door. Then he levitated so that he was floating up near the ceiling of Bernie's office. "Unless a normal man can do this, " Clark said, "are you ready to accept that Clark Kent and Superman are the same person?"

Lois watched Bernie's reaction as Clark levitated. It was almost funny. Until this moment she would not have had a good feel for what 'calm shock' looked like. Now she knew. When Clark first started to levitate, Bernie's reaction was to simply watch with almost clinical detachment. It was as if he were watching some planned experiment play out. Then, after another second, she realized that he appeared frozen as he contemplated Clark hovering above.

"Dr. Klein? Are you still with us?" she asked.

That was all it took to snap him out of it. He shook his head ever so slightly and looked at her. "Yes. Of course. Sorry, I just..." Then he looked back up at Clark floating above. "Well, that's... amazing."

"So you believe us now?" she asked.

Bernie just nodded and Clark lowered himself back to his seat. "We need you to help us figure out what happened at LexCorp Tower," Lois said directly.

"Of course," Bernie said. "But there is so much more. I would have never guessed that you would be so normal. Hold, it!" he exclaimed, "Are you a regular man that acquired your powers later?"

"I really don't know what I am. I arrived as a baby in what my adoptive parents say looked like a space ship," Clark answered.

"Really!" Bernie exclaimed, "What did it look like?"

"I don't remember. I only saw it once and that is part of what I lost to the amnesia. I only know that I saw it because my parents told me that I told them about it. They remembered it from when they found me, but all they could really tell me was that it was very small."

"I wish you two would have trusted me right away after Nightfall," Bernie said.

"We couldn't," Lois said. "Because of his amnesia, Clark didn't realize he was Superman until much later. All the time we were investigating the Nightfall mission, we had no idea that Clark was Superman. And later... well, that isn't the kind of information you share lightly. It's a very dangerous secret for Clark and everyone that is close to him. Can you imagine what someone like Lex Luthor might do if he believed that you or I knew who Superman's family was?"

"I understand," Bernie said. "I'll be extra careful."

"So, now that you know the rest of the story, what do you suggest for a follow-up to what happened?"

"I'd like to review your medical information. Then we'll need to figure out a way to draw some blood. I saw the ER team break two needles trying to start an IV on you the other night, so I know that won't work."

"The only time I've been vulnerable was after exposure to Kryptonite," Clark reminded him.

"We have that gas. I think I might be able to do something with embedding a trace amount in a needle."

"Do you have to do that?" Lois asked. "I don't like the idea of exposing Clark to Kryptonite again."

"If we're ever going to understand how he's different from you and me, we will need to start with his anatomy and blood chemistry. I promise we'll keep the exposure as small as possible."

"What else?" Clark asked, clearly wanting to move on.

"We should repeat the battery of strength and speed tests that we ran before Nightfall. We established a fairly concise set of baseline data about your abilities. Since we're going to be testing you, it would be good to see if anything changed as a result of your Nightfall experience."

***

Clark was back in Bernie's office. He'd spent a lot of time with the scientist over the past few days. He heard a sound from behind when the door to Bernie's office opened and Lois came in. "Was it anything important?" Clark asked.

"Not really," Lois replied, "Perry was just reminding me of the deadline for the evening edition."

"Do you think we'll have anything that we can share?"

"I think it's best if we find something. You know the questions that the tests have generated. Once the general public learned that Superman was lifting ships again, we had a story that needs some kind of conclusion."

Clark reached out and took his wife's hand. "I wish I knew what to think. I'm... I'm nervous."

"Why?" Lois asked. "You told me that you were able to do all the tests."

"Yes," Clark agreed, "but some of the lifts were very hard. I wish I could remember how it went the first time."

Before Lois could answer Bernie came in carrying a stack of papers. "Sorry, but I wanted to run one more set of calculations through the computer before we talked."

"That's fine," Clark said as Bernie took his seat on the other side of his desk. "Did you get enough information to generate meaningful results?"

"Yes," Bernie replied, his voice suddenly somber. "I'm sorry for taking so long, but when the first set of results came in, I wanted to be sure so we performed a second round of tests."

Lois looked sharply at her husband. "You didn't' tell me that you were repeating tests."

"I wasn't... I mean I didn't." Clark turned to Bernie. "I didn't repeat any tests."

"The duplicate tests were designed to test the same ability in a different way. We created new tests that may have seemed different, but tested the same ability. We weren't trying to deceive you. We were just trying to be as careful as possible."

"Why?" Lois demanded sharply.

Bernie blanched at her challenge. He'd clearly never run into Mad-Dog Lane. "The preliminary results showed a marked decrease in your abilities."

Both Lois and Clark were silent for a few seconds. "What kind of decrease?" Clark finally asked.

"Speed. Strength. Your ability to fly carrying a load. Pretty much everything that we had baseline data on from before Nightfall."

"How much of a decrease?" Clark asked.

"At first the data suggested a drop of about a ten percent But when we ran more tests the number came in slightly below that. Based on the test data we collected, your abilities are eighty-six percent of what they were before Nightfall."

"But that's just because he hasn't recovered from Nightfall completely, isn't it?" Lois suggested.

Bernie shook his head. "We don't think so. That was one of the things we were looking for." He looked directly at Clark. "Your powers fluctuate based on your expenditures, but you recover quickly when you have access to sunlight. Of course, we can't say for sure until we have some data over different, longer time periods, but our official position is that the Nightfall experience has permanently cost you fourteen percent of your abilities."

"What... What does that mean in terms of my ability to perform the duties of Superman?"

"Nothing." Bernie replied immediately. "Well, at least not for everyday actions. For all practical purposes, you're still just as strong and just as invulnerable as before. We do think it has impacted your endurance, but that will only show up in long-duration expenditures of energy like what happened during the Nightfall Swarm mission."

"What about LexCorp Tower?" Lois asked.

"It might have had something to do with what happened at LexCorp Tower, but we just can't be sure. You hit a six-foot-thick block of reinforced concrete. Even at full power, that barrier might have stopped you for the second or two that it took for the building collapse to catch up with you. Your slow recovery may be related to your reduced abilities, but we just can't know for sure. The baseline data that we had from before the first Nightfall mission simply was not that comprehensive. With your permission we will periodically retest you to see how your abilities evolve and change, but for now that's all we have."

Clark turned to Lois. "What should we report?"

She looked at Bernie. "Has this information been shared with the government?"

"Yes," Bernie replied. "They assisted in designing the tests. You didn't ask me to keep that information secret," he added defensively.

"No we didn't," Clark reassured him. Then he turned to Lois. "We have to assume that this information will be widely available, at least in secret government circles, so I would rather make it completely public."

Lois looked at Bernie. "Have you gotten any pressure to keep any of this secret?"

"Not really. I was very open with my government contacts that I was going to share all this information with Superman. If Superman chooses to share this with the Daily Planet, there isn't anything I can do about it." He offered them a manila envelope. "This is Superman's copy of the test results and the report that I generated."

Clark took the report but didn't open it. "Eighty-six percent?" he asked.

"I'm afraid so. But based on the tests you really shouldn't notice any difference in day-to-day activities. It wasn't your loss of speed that enabled the building to collapse on you, it was that concrete barrier."

Clark glanced briefly at Lois. "Yes, that barrier," he said softly.

Bernie continued without seeming to notice the interruption. "And I'm not sure what you expect to have shot at you, but you are still completely impervious to any conventional weapon. Bullets can't hurt you. We didn't test this, but based on my calculations even something like a high-velocity depleted uranium tank round wouldn't have a chance to hurt you. Even an artillery round -- same result. You aren't as strong or as tough as you were, but you were so far above anything else, that the loss simply doesn't matter. Oh, it will take you a few extra seconds to fly across the world, but for getting around Metropolis or even the United States, the impact to your travel time will be barely measurable."

"But I will run out of energy sooner. We saw that."

"Yes," Bernie confirmed. "And when you do get depleted, it will take longer to recover. If you want to be extra conservative, you might consider cutting back on Superman's activities."

"We were already considering something like that," Clark said. "Being Superman was a learn-as-I-went exercise. From what Lois has told me and what I do remember, at first I was trying to help everyone with everything. I think I was going to have to cut back anyway. This just provides another reason."

"Oh, one more thing," Bernie interjected. "You need to be extra careful to stay away from Kryptonite."

"I don't think you need to warn us of that," Lois replied.

"Of course, but let me clarify," Bernie said. "We believe that the Kryptonite somehow destroyed approximately fourteen percent of your abilities. Some of the data suggests that if you were to go through another long-duration exposure to Kryptonite, it could continue to permanently remove your abilities. There is a chance that if you were to suffer continuous exposure, you could permanently lose up to ten percent of your abilities each day."

"From what I recall of Kryptonite, I fear that a week of continual exposure would kill me."

"I understand. But one of my coworkers suggested that a lower-level exposure could remove all of your abilities without killing you."

"Dr. Klein," Lois injected coldly. "Why are your researchers having that kind of discussion?"

"Please," Bernie pleaded defensively, "I'm on your side. But when you have very smart people reviewing data and trying to understand what it means, ideas and meanings get discussed. I promise you that no one involved means you any harm. We're simply trying to understand the data and interpret its meaning. I assure you that none of those discussions ended up in any report."

Chapter 8: Gone

Lois looked at her investigation notes with distaste. No matter how much she tried to get back into the swing of regular reporting, she just didn't seem to be able to get away from the Superman stories. In many ways, that was ironically funny. During the period before Nightfall, she had thought that any story which didn't' revolve around Superman wasn't worth her time. Now that she could have all of those that she wanted, she was much more interested in going back to regular news and more conventional investigations. However, now that she wasn't looking for them, those stories of her husband's exploits seemed to come looking for her.

It had been almost two weeks since Clark had been trapped by the collapse of LexCorp Tower. The revelation that Superman had suffered a permanent loss of abilities after Nightfall had been a shock to the world, but it did make it easier for Clark to not respond to every incident.

"What did I miss?"

Lois turned to find Clark behind her. He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss before she could answer. "Nothing," she said. "I thought you would be back sooner."

"I would have been, but--" Clark looked around to make sure no one was within earshot before continuing. "I'd barely arrived in Metropolis when there was a mugging just down the block. Since I was right there, and already in the suit, I stopped it."

"Was there anything newsworthy?" Lois asked.

"Not really. It's just..."

"What?" Lois pressed.

"I swear that there's been a big increase in the criminals trying to shoot me since they learned that I'm not as powerful as I used to be."

"What happened?"

"There were two bad guys in what looked like a run-of-the-mill mugging. When I intervened, both of them immediately pulled out pistols and started firing at me. In fact, once I arrived, they appeared to lose any interest in their original target and only seemed interested in me. Their guns were loaded with armor piercing bullets and they made a point to aim at my head."

"Are you all right?"

"Sure. Dr. Klein was right when he said that any reduction in my overall abilities doesn't seem to have any noticeable effect. I wish there was some way to get that message out."

"Well, we did try. That article..." Lois trailed off without finishing. She'd tried to warn him that this exact result was likely if Superman admitted any weakness, but Clark had insisted on going ahead. Sometimes Lois hated being right.

Clark grimaced at the reminder of his mistake. "That's okay. I should have listened to you when you said that an interview where Superman discussed his new limitations was a bad idea. I should never have made any statement on the matter."

"Well, it might have helped," Lois said, in a conciliatory voice. "After the news came out that your powers had been reduced, some people were bound to try to challenge you anyway."

"Yeah. But the fact is that having Superman come out and say that the loss of powers wouldn't have any effect, did exactly the opposite of what I'd hoped. I think that just about everyone assumed that Superman was lying and really was vulnerable. Now every criminal that I encounter seems to feel that they have to find out for themselves."

"It won't last too long," Lois comforted. "According to my sources, the underworld is figuring out that your announcement was real. Bobby was telling me earlier today that the air is thick with stories of every kind of cop-killer and armor piercing bullet failing to do anything more than annoy you. Some of the stories of the expression on your face when people start shooting are priceless. Apparently, you have a very telling, 'not again' look of exasperation."

"I hope you're right," Clark said. "So, what are your plans for today?"

"You know that we've never been able to get a lead on who's running crime in this city since Lex's empire collapsed. Remember that I told you that I had a lead that might prove promising?"

"Yes," Clark said cautiously.

"This morning I got a call from a woman who claims to be a secretary in City Hall. She says that she's seen some people coming and going who feel very suspicious."

Clark looked skeptical. "That doesn't sound like much of a lead."

"I know. But one of the people she described sounded a lot like Casey Maze."

"Crazy Casey Maze? The guy that was too dangerous for Nigel St. John?"

"Relax, Clark. I'm not meeting him. This woman -- she's going by the name Sally -- described a few of the people she'd seen. Maze's tattoos make him stand out, which was why she remembered him."

"Do you need me to come with you? I'm supposed to cover the city council meetings this afternoon, but I can switch it."

"No need," Lois reassured him. "We're meeting in a public place and only for a few minutes. If I were considering a meeting with someone like Maze, then you can be sure that I'd want you with me. But this Sally woman is just a low-level secretary that likes my work and wants to do something to help. She may not know anything, but if she does, then this will be a chance to establish another contact in city hall."

"If you're sure..."

"Clark, we've had this discussion before. I'm glad that you care, but you can't get in the way of me doing my job. You know that I know how to do first-contacts with sources."

"I know, but I will worry, so please be careful."

***

The absence of the sound of Lois's heartbeat surprised Clark when he got home at 6:35 in the evening. Having the advantage of Superman's hearing meant that he didn't need to bother with calling out. He looked quickly around the apartment but there was no note to be found. As near as he could tell, the apartment was exactly the way they'd left it this morning. He picked up the phone and dialed Perry's house.

The phone rang only twice before being picked up. "Hello?" It was Alice.

"Hi, Alice. It's Clark."

"Oh, hi Clark. Would you like to speak to your parents?"

"Thank you, but not right now. Has Lois been by there?"

"Lois? No. I haven't seen her since the two of you came over for dinner a few nights ago. Were you expecting her to drop by?"

"No," Clark answered. "I just came home from the office, and she wasn't there and now she isn't at home either. I'm just trying to figure out where she went. I'll make some more calls. Tell my parents 'Hi' for me."

"I'll do that. Good luck finding Lois. You know how she can take off after a story sometimes."

"I do. Well, thanks Alice. Bye."

He heard Alice say "Bye" as he was hanging up the phone.

Of course Lois could be off chasing a story, but since they'd been married she had been very good at letting him know when she was going to be working on something after hours. Sometimes she got a little secretive about the details -- the habits from her time as a solo reporter were hard to break -- but she almost always made sure that he knew when she was going to be out. Tonight felt wrong. Very wrong. Something had to be happening. Clark changed quickly into the Superman suit and did a quick check of the city. His first stop was the Planet, just in case he'd just missed Lois when she left. When he saw Perry in his office, he switched back to his Clark clothes and went in.

"Perry?" Clark asked as he stuck his head in Perry's door.

"Clark? Why are you here, I thought you went home?"

"I did, but I can't find Lois. Do you have any idea where she might be?"

Perry shook his head. "No. The last I heard was when she went to meet that source early this afternoon. I haven't seen her since then. Do you think something went wrong?"

"I don't know," Clark answered. "But this doesn't feel right."

"I'm sorry, Clark. But she's a big girl. I'm sure she's fine."

"Yeah," Clark said doubtfully. "She's probably at home now wondering where I am."

"Head home and try to relax," Perry said. "She'll turn up. Probably with a story."

"I'll do that. Thanks Perry." He headed out of the office and -- just to be careful -- verified that she still wasn't at home. Then he spent the next fifteen minutes buzzing the city trying to look for either her or something happening that she'd find newsworthy. Unfortunately, Metropolis was unusually quiet tonight and the search came up empty. Then he spent five more minutes making slower-speed passes over all the areas of their ongoing investigations. There was no sign of her at all.

When, after half an hour, Clark returned home, Lois was still not there. Now he was worried. He checked the time, picked up the phone and dialed another number. After a single ring he heard a gruff voice. "Forty-Third Precinct."

"This is Clark Kent of the Daily Planet. Is Inspector Henderson in?"

"One minute."

After only a few seconds Bill answered the phone. "Henderson."

"Bill, it's Clark Kent."

"Kent, what do you need this evening?"

"I'm sorry to call you about this, but I'm having trouble finding Lois."

"Clark, I like you two, but it isn't my job to keep track of your wife."

"I know, Bill. But she's seemed to have disappeared, and something about this doesn't feel right. Do you know of anything going on in the city tonight that might cause her to forget to tell me she was chasing a story?"

"No, the day has been quiet and I haven't seen any reports of anything that fits that description."

"Okay. Thanks, Bill."

"Don't worry, Clark. I've known her for a long time. She'll turn up. Just try to relax and enjoy a quiet evening. I'm sure she'll have a great story when she comes in."

"You're probably right. Have a good evening, Bill."

The click of the Bill hanging up the phone sounded unusually loud.

Four hours later, Clark was at his wit's end. He'd buzzed the city several times and talked to every snitch that he could contact at this time of night. He'd even called the White's house once more to see if Perry had heard anything. Unfortunately, all of his efforts came to the same end. Lois was nowhere to be found. It was as if a hole had opened up in the universe and swallowed her whole. With nothing left to try, he finally climbed into bed alone for the first time since he'd been married.

***

The bullpen lacked color this morning. But that only made sense. Clark's whole world had gone cold and grey. Lois was missing and he was lost.

After he went to bed, he'd lain there for a few hours listening for any sign of her coming in. After 2:00 a.m. he'd given up completely on sleep and started doing patrols. He spent the rest of the night covering Metropolis like a blanket. He'd been careful to never go more than a few minutes without returning home to see if Lois was there, but she'd never come. Other than causing a number of petty criminals to have a really bad evening, the exercise had been a waste of time.

Once he was at the Planet, he headed straight for Perry's office. Perry saw him coming and waved him in before Clark even reached the door. "Any word?" Perry asked.

"No. I filed a missing person report this morning. While I was there, I talked to Bill Henderson."

"Now does he believe that Lois is missing?" Perry asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Yes," Clark answered. "It turns out that he'd gone ahead and put out a bulletin to be on the look-out for Lois last night."

"Well, Bill is a good man. I'm glad he believed you."

"Yeah. He told me that after our call ended last night, he realized that Lois would have let me know if she was going to be doing anything that would keep her out. Unfortunately, that extra time didn't seem to help."

"Are you sure Lois didn't have any plans other than that meeting with this Sally woman?"

"That's all she said. Now, something might have come up suddenly, but I have no idea what that could have been."

"And Lois didn't give you any indication of where this meeting was going to take place?"

"No. Lois only said that it was going to be in some place public. It was clear that she viewed this as a very simple low-risk first contact."

"Do you think this meeting was a setup?"

"Of course," Clark answered quickly. "Don't you?"

"I didn't want to say so, but yes. I'm surprised that Lois would be able to be caught in something like this. She knows how our business works."

"Well, she didn't seem to think this was a high-risk contact. Still, the fact that she had arranged for the meeting to be in a public place tells me that she was trying to exercise at least a normal level of caution. The problem is that generally we have some clue when to be extra careful. Right now, neither Lois nor I are involved in any particularly sensitive investigations. The research that involved this Sally woman was basic old-school influence peddling. Lois's background work had only just started, and so far all we had was a little hearsay. Kidnapping Lois to stop this investigation doesn't seem to make any sense."

"Are you going to be able to work today? I didn't really expect you to come in if Lois didn't turn up," Perry said.

"I need to try to do something to keep my mind occupied," Clark replied. "I can't just sit at home. I've asked Mom and Dad to stay at our place in case Lois comes home, so I'll know immediately if she shows up there. The police have the number here and at home, so they can reach me at either place. If it's okay with you, I'd like to be here."

"I understand. Do you need anything from me?" Perry asked.

"Just bear with me that I may not be at my best today."

"Do what you can. And try not to worry. Lois can take care of herself better than anyone I've ever met."

***

The phone didn't even complete its ring before Clark had the receiver to his ear and was saying, "Clark Kent." It had been that way all morning.

"We have your wife." The voice sounded artificial and electronic. The person at the other end was clearly using some kind of voice altering device.

"If you've harmed her--" Clark started, not bothering to contain his anger.

"She's fine," the voice cut him off quickly. "We mean no harm to either you or your wife."

"I want to talk to her!" Clark demanded.

"No. If you follow my instructions she will be released completely unharmed. But until then, you will not be able to talk to her."

"Then I won't cooperate!"

"Then we will kill her. If that's what you want, you should hang up the phone right now."

Even through the voice distortion device, Clark could feel the icy callousness of those words. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Better," the voice said. "You are to contact Superman and tell him to appear on the roof of the Jefferson building at precisely 12:15 this afternoon. He will receive further instructions from there. Once he meets us, we will consider you to have met your obligation and your wife will be released."

"What if I can't find him? I know Superman, but I'm not his keeper."

"We understand. In that case then we will try again tomorrow. But that does mean that your wife will remain our prisoner for this evening. Also, if this goes on for more than a day or two, we will be forced to kill your wife and move on to our backup plan to contact Superman."

"I'll do my best," Clark said, "but please promise not to hurt her if I can't reach him today."

"I promise nothing. However, I will say that we are unlikely to kill her today. Still, I advise you to do your very best to reach Superman quickly. I'm sure your pretty wife would rather be in your company than ours."

"Twelve fifteen on top of the Jefferson building. Is there anything else?"

"Only that we will consider it an act of bad faith on your part if you tell the police about this call. We don't have any particular objection to your having spoken to Inspector Henderson last night and again this morning. But if you were to tell him about this phone call before we have the chance to meet with Superman... well, we would have to consider that an alteration of the conditions for your wife to be released unharmed. And, as is obvious, we have connections into MPD and will know if you chose to act foolishly in this regard. So, do you understand what we require of you?"

"I understand," Clark answered seriously.

There was a click of the phone being hung up on the other end. In some ways this was comforting. At least now he knew what had happened to Lois. The kidnappers said that she was all right, but they could be lying. Still, what choice did he have? This operation had clearly been planned carefully. These people knew what they wanted, and seemed to be able to monitor his activities. At least, they knew when he'd contacted the police. Clark thought for a few seconds, then stood and headed for Perry's office.

Perry was busy so he waited for Perry to finish chewing out Ralph for his latest story gaffe. In less than a minute Ralph left the office and Perry waved him in. "You've heard something?" Perry asked anxiously. He was clearly worried about Lois.

"Yes. Lois was kidnapped. I just got a call from the kidnappers."

Perry's face went cold. "What do they want?"

"They want to meet Superman. Since there are clearly ways to meet him without kidnapping anyone, I'm not sure how much I believe that's the whole story. I hope that they just want to be sure that he comes, but there's no way to know for sure."

"Have you called the police yet?" Perry asked.

"No. They warned me against that. They seem to have some way to know when I talk to the police. They certainly knew about my two conversations with Henderson last night and this morning. Also, given the nature of their request and the timing, I don't see what the police could do."

Perry was silent for a moment. He seemed to be thinking through options. "How are you supposed to arrange this?" he finally asked.

"They told me the time and the place. I really don't know what to expect, but that will be for Superman to decide."

"Clark..." Perry started, then paused. The older man stared at him for several seconds then started again. "Can you reach Superman that quickly?"

"Yes. Chief, you know that Superman is closer to Lois and I than most people know. I'm sure I can reach him and that he will be there."

"Okay... if you're sure this is the best course of action then you should go ahead."

"I am. I have to do whatever I can to keep Lois safe. I know Superman will feel that way as well."

"I'm sure he does," Perry replied. "Did they give you any clue what they want from Superman?"

"No. But obviously it can't be good. One thing was very clear from that phone call. These people are smart and capable. They aren't doing this to get Superman to help with some small problem. Whatever this is about, it's big."

"So, how does talking to Superman do them any good? They can't force him to do anything."

"I don't know. They might try to keep Lois and try to use her as a lever against him. I also have some other ideas of what they might want, but those ideas don't feel reasonable. But the fact that they set all this up worries me."

"So what's your plan?" Perry asked.

"I need to contact Superman. Then I want to talk to my parents. I'm going to ask them to remain at our apartment until this is all resolved. Perry, I'd like to take the rest of the day and see if I can get all this straightened out. In fact, depending on what... Superman needs of me, I may have to be out even longer than that."

"Of course, Clark," Perry said. "Do what you can to get Lois back safely."

***

"Well, at least this one doesn't smell," Clark said to the empty tunnel in which he found himself. It had been a long afternoon. Clark had arrived on the top of the Jefferson building right on time. Less than a minute later he heard a cell phone start to ring. It was under a ledge near the door that provided access to the roof. Clark picked up the phone and pressed the answer button. "Superman speaking."

He heard the same electronically distorted voice that had delivered the original instructions. "Go to the corner of Baxter and Lake. On the southeast corner you will see a yellow newspaper box. Next to the box is a door. Go through the door and wait inside. You will receive further instructions. Bring the phone. You have twenty seconds." Clark heard the click of the cell phone disconnecting.

It took far less than twenty seconds to find the door. The room behind the door looked like it might have once been the store room for a shop. There was another door, but since Clark had been told to wait, he didn't try to go through it. The room itself was bare except for a chair in the middle of the room, a clock on the wall and a camera pointed at the chair. At the twenty second mark, the cell phone rang again. "I'm here," he answered.

"Sit in the chair for fifteen minutes. Under no circumstances are you to leave the room for any reason. You will receive further instructions."

That instruction seemed odd, but with Lois at risk, Clark didn't know what else to do, so he sat down. Precisely fifteen minutes later the phone rang. "Now what?" Clark said when he answered the phone.

"You will find a map with instructions taped to the bottom of the yellow newspaper box outside. Follow the instructions on the map. You have three minutes to arrive at the next destination. Leave the phone on the chair."

The map was right where they said. The reason for the map became quickly obvious. The instructions were very detailed and led to a deep, dirty section of the city sewer system. There was an old service phone at the end of the path. Obviously the next method of contact. At what he guessed was the three minute mark the phone rang.

"Count slowly, out loud, to three hundred. When we hear you reach three hundred you will receive your next destination."

"One, two, three..." Clark started. He'd never heard of anything like this. He guessed that this was part of making sure he was not being followed or communicating with anyone.

When he said the words three hundred, the voice picked up again. "Look down the tunnel. You will see that in one direction there is a blue light. Follow the tunnel in that direction. Go past the blue light and continue until you come to a red light. At that point, turn to the passage on your left. Follow that until you see another red light. You will find another packet of instructions hanging on the wall. Follow those instructions."

An hour later Clark found himself in this location. He'd been in and out of the sewers several times. One stop had been a shack out in the country, but he'd had a feeling since early on that this trek was going to end in the sewers. This place was cleaner than most of the sewer locations he'd seen today, but not the cleanest. Clark moved to a spot where what looked like a red plastic plate sat on the floor of the tunnel. The instruction had been to go to this spot and wait for instructions.

He been there only a few seconds when a portion of the wall beside him opened. "Superman, please come in." This was a real voice with no electronic distortion. Clark tried to look through the wall, but he couldn't see anything. The room on the other side must be lined with lead.

He passed through the door into a dark room. He'd barely cleared the entryway when the door slid closed behind him. He turned to the man standing at the far end of the room. "You must know that you can't imprison me with any kind of door. Not even a lead-lined one."

"We know. The door didn't close to imprison you. It's simply that while it is unlikely that we will be disturbed, it is possible that a sewer worker could wander by. Closing the door simply ensures our privacy."

"Has Ms. Lane been released? What's this about?"

"I don't know the answer to either question. I am simply a link in the chain. My job is to bring you to my employer."

Clark was furious. This had gone on all day. They must know by now that he was determined to cooperate. "Then let's get on with it," Clark said shortly.

"Very well," the man said. "Follow me." He walked to the far side of the room and opened another door. "Superman, if you please." and he gestured Clark to go first.

In the room was a complicated wheelchair and what looked like a metallic hood. "Please sit down. From here out you get to ride. I am going to have to ask you to wear this hood so that for the rest of the trip, you can't see where we are going."

Clark sat in the chair. The man put the hood on his head and buckled a strap under his chin. The hood had been well made. He could breathe, but he couldn't see anything. "Can you hear me?" the man asked.

"Yes," Clark replied. "Let's just get this done."

"I'm about to turn on a sound and vibration unit build into this chair. It is intended to make it more difficult for you to tell where we are going." Clark felt the chair begin to vibrate. "Relax, Superman, you will be at your destination in less than an hour."

It felt like the chair was moving. Then he heard what sounded like a car engine start and he could feel the forces of movement. He must be in some kind of vehicle. Then he could hear what sounded like street sounds. And he picked up some smells. First there was a bakery and then what had to be an Italian restaurant.

Clark couldn't tell how long he seemed to be in the vehicle. Based on his rough estimate of the time and the change in the things he'd heard and smelled, it was possible he'd left the city. Right at the end, all the sounds stopped except for a vehicle sound, and it had an echo that gave Clark the impression that they were driving through some kind of tunnel. Finally, the engine sounds stopped altogether and he heard a door open. He strained for voices but couldn't make out anything. He felt the chair moving again. With the chair vibrating it was hard to tell but he seemed to move at least another couple of hundred yards.

Finally everything went quiet. "Where am I?" Clark shouted. "I demand to speak to the person in charge!"

Nothing but silence answered his call for several seconds. Then he felt a wave of pain that he recognized too well. Kryptonite! He felt himself sag in the chair. Then he felt a sharp pain in his arm. "How about that?" a voice said right next to him. "He bleeds just like anybody else."

"That's what the boss said would happen," came another voice.

The lead helmet was pulled roughly off his head. The heavyset man in front of him was different than the one he'd met in the tunnel. "Listen, Supes, you need to pay attention." The pain was too great for Clark to look up. Suddenly he felt a rough slap and the man grabbed his head and lifted it. "See those openings up near the ceiling? Those are gun ports and they're manned continually. If you make any move to escape, the men behind those slits will open fire. Based on how easy it was to cut you just now, I don't think you want them opening up on you. So don't make any sudden moves. The boss will be here to see you in a minute."

The man dropped his head and started away. Clark mustered enough energy to look around. He was in a large cylindrical room. It had to be at least twenty feet across with a high ceiling that towered at least thirty feet above him. High up on the wall there was a large glass section in addition to those gun ports. There was a single, tunnel-like doorway through which the man had just exited. Finally, there were green glowing crystals everywhere. Most were suspended from the ceiling on wires but some were sticking out of the walls all around him.

"Well, we meet again," a voice said from the doorway. "You have no idea how much I've looked forward to this."

He knew that voice. He'd just never expected to hear it again. Coming into the chamber was a smiling Lex Luthor.

Chapter 9: Prisoner

Clark had two categories of memories of Luthor. Some were relatively vague, half-remembered images from before Nightfall. In those memories, Luthor always seemed like some kind of cartoon villain. Clark had an image of a man who had more money and power than any reasonable person could want, but continued to take and destroy seemingly only for the pleasure of doing so.

Then there were the complete memories of what he'd seen of Luthor after Nightfall. As Clark Kent, he'd never been in a position to see behind the mask that Luthor usually wore. If it hadn't been for that recording where he so clearly claimed responsibility for the Nightfall trap that had cost Clark so much, he would have a hard time believing that Luthor was in truth a villain.

But now, with Luthor all but laughing as he gloated over a captive who was not only incapacitated, but in pain as well, the image of that cartoon villain returned. And as Clark watched Luthor circling the room, it was all too apparent that those half-remembered images of the cartoon villain were the far more correct memories of this man.

"He's nearly unconscious," Lex said, as he looked up toward the window near the ceiling of the chamber. His tone made it clear that he wasn't happy that Clark wasn't more alert. "I don't want him to die too quickly."

"Sir, you told us to be cautious," came a defensive voice over a speaker. "Right now, we're making sure that he's getting enough Kryptonite exposure to incapacitate him. After you've finished your initial interview, we'll begin a series of tests to determine what level of Kryptonite exposure is optimum for rendering him powerless and vulnerable, but not enough of an exposure to be fatal. We have a series of tests planned that should only take a few hours to complete. Once we have that information, we can position the Kryptonite to have exactly the result you desire."

Luthor grunted and turned to face Clark. When he realized that Clark was watching him, his smile grew even broader. "Well, hello, Superman," he said loudly. "I was afraid that you weren't going to be awake for this interview." Lex stepped back and went over to a shelf that seemed built into the wall. On the shelf was a pair of black gloves. "Your being here almost makes me glad that my little trick with the concrete wall in LexCorp tower failed," Luthor said over his shoulder as he put on the gloves. Then he turned back to Clark. "Did you wonder why there was a thick concrete wall right in the path you were supposed to follow for that demolition?" The gloves were on his hands now and Luthor returned to Clark's location in the center of the room. "I have to admit that I did that whole concrete wall trap on just a whim. I figured what would be the harm in dropping a building on you?" Then Luthor leaned down and got right in Clark's face. "Did you enjoy it as much as I did?"

Clark didn't see the point of an answer so he started to turn his head away.

There was a sudden sharp blow to his face as Luthor punched him. Clark felt a sharp, scratching sensation as he saw blood from his face splatter. A closer look at the gloves revealed that those leather gloves seemed to have metal studs embedded in them. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Luthor shouted. "You're only going to be alive as long as I find you entertaining! So, did you enjoy it when I dropped the building on you?!"

"No," Clark replied.

That brought a smile to Luthor's face. "Good," he said, now eerily calm. "I'd hate to think that you could demolish my building and not suffer for it. But as I said, if I'd killed you then, you wouldn't have had the chance to see this nice room that I prepared. Do you like it?"

Clark had learned his lesson from the earlier blow. "Yes," he replied.

That elicited another smile, and even a light laugh from Luthor. "Good, I'm glad you appreciate your accommodations. Let me give you the tour." Luthor walked over to the wall and put his hand on the smooth white surface. "The walls are reinforced concrete and eight feet thick. Half-way through, there is a layer of lead plating to make sure that you can't see anything beyond this chamber." Then he stepped over to a piece of Kryptonite that was mounted on a rod sticking out of the wall. "These rods can be extended all the way to the center of the chamber or retracted into the wall." Then Luthor pointed at the ceiling where Kryptonite was suspended from wires. "Those can also be raised and lowered. All of these are controlled from that room," he pointed at the glass, "to fine-tune your exposure. Once we figure out the dosage, we should be able to keep you alive, but unpowered, for an exceptionally long time."

Then Lex moved to another chunk of Kryptonite that looked to be mounted on the wall. "You will see that I have these smaller pieces embedded in the chamber walls all around you. If the calculations on your susceptibility are correct, as long as you remain at the exact center of the chamber, these shouldn't cause you any harm. If you were to try to get anywhere near a wall or the entrance, they should slow you down." Then Luthor walked over to the entrance tunnel. "See this line?" he asked, pointing at a red line approximately five feet from the door. "That's your deadline. If you touch that line, the men behind those guns above you will open fire. No hesitation and no questions asked. If you touch the line, or they even think you are about to touch the line, all of the Kryptonite suspended above you will drop to the floor and they will open fire. If you die I will be mildly disappointed. If you escape, every one of them and their families will be killed."

"Why?" Clark croaked.

"Because the game isn't over," Luthor snapped. "You thought you'd won." With every word his voice grew a little louder. "First you took my city and then you took everything else. You need to know that the game isn't over until I say it is!" he shouted. By the time he had finished he'd been shouting at the top of his lungs.

In that moment, Clark realized that Luthor wasn't simply angry and evil. The ex-billionaire was insane as well. And Clark was completely in his power. "If you want to win so badly, why don't you just kill me?" Clark asked in a croaking voice. "Why all the trouble to build this room?"

"Because you need to suffer," Luthor said coldly. "When I thought I'd killed you, I figured we were even. I'd lost a lot, but you'd lost your life. That seemed fair. But no, you weren't dead. Not only that, but you came back and pulled that stunt with Klein to make yourself more popular than ever. So now it isn't enough to kill you. I need to make you suffer. This room can inflict no small amount of pain on its own. But I plan to visit you every day to make sure you're... comfortable."

Suddenly Luthor pushed him. Clark fell out of the chair and onto his back. Then Luthor was above him, punching his face. Based on the way the blows were falling, he guessed Luthor might be kneeling on his chest, but Clark really couldn't tell. The beating went on and on. Clark had seen bullies in schoolyards do this to helpless victims. He never thought he would be on the receiving end of this kind of beating.

He must have passed out because the next thing he knew was water splashing on his face. "You're back? Good," Luthor's voice said. "Now that was fun. Just think, Superman, we'll get to play this way every day. At least, up to the point where I get tired of the game and decide to kill you."

Clark heard footsteps retreating and then Luthor's voice again. "I want that report on his reaction to varying the Kryptonite distance to be waiting for me first thing tomorrow morning," Luthor said, apparently to someone in the control room. "And don't let him die. I've barely begun to play."

Slowly, but painfully, Clark opened his eyes open to find Luthor standing at the doorway staring at him. "Oh, and one more thing. You came here to rescue the lovely Ms. Lane. Well, I thought you should know that I have no plans to release her -- ever. I have plans for her, but... well, let's just say that I don't think Mr. Kent would approve of my plans for his wife." Then Luthor laughed and walked out the door.

***

The bed felt especially soft this morning, but Lois's clothes felt a little tight. Then she realized that something was wrong. Her eyes popped open and she looked around the room. This wasn't home. In fact, this wasn't any place that she remembered.

How did she get here? She concentrated for a few seconds. She'd been in the park. She remembered watching the people walk by. The woman, Sally, was supposed to meet her at three o'clock sharp. The last thing she remembered was a sting in the back of her neck. Lois reached to the back of her neck and could feel a small bump where she'd been stung -- or more probably, where she'd been drugged. She looked around the room again. It looked more like the bedroom of a nice apartment, than what she would find in a hotel room. However, there was no window.

Lois swung her legs off the bed and sat up. She didn't feel any residual dizziness so she stood, moving slowly just in case. She achieved vertical without any problem. That was a good sign. She went to the bathroom. It was very nice. Wherever she was, it was a classy establishment. The bathroom was well stocked including towels, washcloths and other linens that a person might need. There was a medicine cabinet which contained a few basics such as aspirin and mouthwash. It even held a new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste.

A large walk-in closet on the other side of the bathroom was fully stocked with women's clothes. It only took a few seconds to determine that they were all of a similar style as she generally wore, and that everything was in her size. The implications of the clothes sent a chill through her.

It was time to find out what was going on. She returned to the bedroom and headed for the closed door that looked like should lead to the rest of the apartment. She hoped she wouldn't have to batter her way out, but was ready to do so if that was going to be what it took to get home. Somewhat to her surprise, the doorknob turned easily.

The doorway led to a short hall. At the end of the hall was a huge living area. Off to the left was a kitchen and eating area. In front of her was some kind of gathering area with chairs and a sofa. Off to her right was an entertainment area with a large television. This was clearly some sort of luxury apartment.

"I'm glad to see that you're awake," came a pleasant voice from her right. Lois turned quickly to see an older woman smiling at her from the other end of the entertainment area. She seemed to have come from a section of the apartment out beyond the entertainment area.

"Who are you?" Lois snapped. "And why am I here?"

"My name is Martha," she woman answered calmly. "Martha Severs. As to why you're here, I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know. One minute I was in Children's Park to meet someone. The next thing I remember is waking up here." Lois looked her over. "You don't look like you were kidnapped."

"No, dear, I was hired to be here. But I've already been told that you aren't here by choice. If we can sit down I'll be happy to tell you all I know."

This woman sounded awfully genuine. Maybe it was that English accent. Or the fact that she looked like somebody's grandmother out of a movie. But this wasn't the time to talk. "I need to get out of here," Lois said. "Where's the door that leads out of this place?"

"This way," the woman said. She started toward the kitchen area and walked up to a metal panel the size and shape of a doorway. "From what I can tell, this is the door."

Lois looked at the 'door' carefully. It was nothing more than a flat, blank sheet of steel. As a test, Lois pounded on it with her fist. She could tell from the sound and feel that it was very thick. She looked back at Martha. "What do you mean by 'from what you can tell', don't you know how to get in and out?"

"No, dear," she answered. "I was asleep when I arrived and woke up here just as you did."

"But you said you weren't kidnapped."

"No," then Martha looked around. "Can we please sit down? It would make a much more pleasant talk."

"Fine," Lois said, not ready to trust this woman no matter how grandmotherly she seemed.

Martha headed immediately to the kitchen table and sat. Lois followed and sat across from her. "That's better," Martha said. "So if you aren't going to tell me your name, could you please make up something? I hate the idea that I'll be addressing you only as Miss for as long as we're here."

"I'm Lois Lane," Lois said.

"It's nice to meet you, Lois," Martha said. "You're American, aren't you?"

"Of course," Lois replied.

"How nice," Martha said. "I used to see a lot of Americans, but after Nightfall, most of you stopped coming to London. Do you live here?"

"I live in Metropolis." Lois answered, confused.

"I've always wanted to visit the states," Martha mused. "I've grew up wanting to see the world, but somehow I never got around to it. What were you doing in London?"

"London? I haven't been in London for years. I was in Metropolis when I was kidnapped."

"Oh, my," Martha said. "Then I'd say one of us is a long way from home. I was hired in London."

"Hired?" Lois asked. "Maybe you should tell me how you came to be here."

"I responded to an advertisement in the London Times for a ladies maid. I applied for the job and was called in for an interview. The interview was fairly standard. The only unusual part was the question about being out-of-contact."

"Out-of-contact?" Lois asked.

"Yes," Martha replied. "The woman interviewing me -- her name was Beth -- said that the lady that I would be taking care of went long stretches in total isolation and that if I took the job I could be out of contact with my friends and family for several months."

"Didn't that strike you as a strange situation?"

"Yes, but I've heard of things like this before. Lois, how much experience do you have with people of extreme wealth?"

"Some," Lois said cautiously, "but that isn't my life."

"I can tell," Martha chuckled. "Dear, for the most part people are people. But I've been doing this sort of thing much of my life, and I've seen enough to know that it takes all kinds. So, the idea that my lady would be a recluse was unusual, but not startling."

"But I'm not a recluse. I'm a prisoner!" Lois snapped.

"I know that now, and I'm sorry. But I didn't find out that part until I arrived in this place," Martha replied.

"So how did you get here?" Lois asked.

"Back in London there was another round of interviews. Finally, they told me that I got the job. I was told to pack whatever I needed for a trip that would last from one to two months. Then they picked me up at my home in a limousine. That was the last thing I remember before I found myself here. When I woke up, I started looking around this apartment. Within a few minutes a voice started talking to me."

"A voice?" Lois interrupted.

"Yes. There are speakers throughout the apartment. The voice sounded electronic and artificial, but it explained that I would be taking care of a very important woman who was going to be held against her will. When I heard that last part, I couldn't believe it. I'm no criminal. I tried to protest and tell the voice that I wouldn't have anything to do with holding a person prisoner. The voice just said that I wouldn't be required to do anything outside the bounds of the job I was hired for."

Then Martha paused for a moment. "The voice also said that failing to do my job would have serious consequences," she said, fear now evident in her voice. "So I hope you'll let me take care of you."

"Of course," Lois said softly.

"Anyway, that was about two days ago," Martha, continued. "At least, I've slept twice since then. You'll notice that there are no clocks and no way to judge time in this apartment."

"Do you know if this is London?"

"No. I would have sworn that I had only been asleep for a few minutes when I woke up here. But I guess that doesn't mean very much. This place," Martha motioned to indicate the room, "doesn't feel like London to me. I guess that means we're in Metropolis."

"Not necessarily. This place doesn't feel quite like Metropolis either. It reminds me of a luxury hotel suite I saw in Hong Kong once."

"You think we're in Hong Kong," Martha exclaimed.

"No. But I think this apartment was designed so that it could be almost anywhere." Lois glanced at her bare wrist. Until now she hadn't noticed her missing watch. "How did I arrive?"

"I don't know. I guess someone brought you in while I was asleep. All I really know is that you were in your bed when I woke up a few hours ago. I closed your door so that I wouldn't disturb you when I started my morning routine."

"You said you've been here a few days?" Lois asked.

"Yes."

"How do you get food?"

"The kitchen is stocked with basic necessities. But the voice told me when I arrived that all meals would be delivered by the dumbwaiter." Martha pointed to the small opening door in the kitchen wall. "There is a menu next to the dumbwaiter. When I want something I press the call button and place my order. The food comes a little later."

Lois went over to the dumbwaiter door. It seemed to be locked. "It's locked," Lois said to Martha.

"I noticed that it only opens when the food is there."

"Oh," Lois said. Perhaps that would be an avenue of escape. She'd keep those thoughts to herself for now. Martha seemed genuine, but there was no way Lois could trust her.

Suddenly there was a voice from over Lois's head. "Ms. Lane?" This was clearly an artificial voice of someone using a voice altering device.

"I demand that you release me immediately!" Lois shouted.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lane, but that will not be possible. You must remain our guest for the time being. I assure you that we mean you no harm, and, as you will see, we have done all that we can to make your stay as pleasant as possible."

"You'll never get away with this," Lois said. "My husband will find me. We have powerful friends."

"I cannot speak for what your husband might do. If he does find you, then you may leave us sooner that we planned. However, the chances of being rescued by your husband are very small. We know the team of Lane and Kent, and we know which person is the more capable member of that team. With you here, I doubt he will have any success in finding you. As for your powerful friends, we have taken that into account as well. In fact, it will come as no surprise to you that your friendship with Superman was the primary reason that you are with us now."

"You know Superman?" Martha interrupted.

"We're... friends," Lois answered.

"Ms. Lane, you're too modest. You are our guest because we need Superman to do something for us. Your presence is how we intend to compel him to cooperate."

"Superman's just a friend," Lois appealed. "Holding me won't get him to do anything for you."

"We shall see," the voice replied. "Whatever Superman may or may not do, you will be our guest for quite some time. Martha is there to make your stay as pleasant as possible. We hope the apartment meets your needs. Also, if there is anything you would like in terms of books or movies that are not already present in your suite, please let us know You can ask for whatever you would like using the same call system as you use to order food. As I said, you are our guest and we will do what we can to make your stay as pleasant as possible."

"You could let me go," Lois commented.

"I'm sorry, but that is the one request that we cannot grant. Henceforth, we will only contact you on an as-needed basis."

A long moment passed in silence. "I think he's done," Martha said.

"I need to think," Lois commented. "It feels like morning to me. I need to go through my morning routine. How do I get coffee?"

"I'd be happy to make you some, dear. That's one of the things we can do for ourselves. Why don't you do get yourself cleaned up and I'll get the coffee started."

"Thank you, Martha. What about breakfast?"

"I had mine before you woke up. You can order whatever you want when you come out and have your coffee. It has only taken a few minutes from when I've placed my food orders to when the food arrived. Breakfast has been very quick to arrive each day."

"Is the food any good?"

"I think so," Martha replied. "But I'm easy to please. All the food that I've had so far has been very good."

"Well, that's something," Lois grumbled. "I'm going to take a shower. I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Fine. Oh, and how strong do you like your coffee?"

"As strong as you can make it," Lois said as she turned and headed back to her room.

***

It had been several hours since Lex had finished his encounter with Superman. Lex had known that the confrontation would leave him wound up, but this was far beyond what he'd expected.

The months since he'd disappeared had passed in something of a blur. Fortunately he'd planned well and money wasn't a problem. At first he'd been afraid that he would have to abandon his identity because of his role in the Nightfall mission failure. However, there remained enough people that either hated Superman for their own reasons, or were willing to forgive anything for money, that he was able to reestablish his life using his own identity.

In many ways, his biggest challenge had been trying to pick a path for the rest of his life. He hated walking away from his unfinished business in Metropolis. It wasn't his empire... that was a contest that he'd already won. No, his biggest regret was the loss of Lois Lane. From the moment she'd called him out at the White Orchid ball, she had captivated him as few other women had. It hadn't taken long to decide that she would be the next Mrs. Luthor.

After Superman had been killed, he'd been certain that she would be his. With her world collapsing around her, she would naturally turn to him for support. But he'd made a slight miscalculation in the form of Lois's hayseed partner. Kent had been collateral damage in his attack on Superman, and that had brought out the maternal instinct in Lois.

Under other circumstances it would have simply added spice to the game. It would have been amusing to see Kent confused and alone after Lex had charmed Lois away from him. Of course, if that did prove too challenging, then Kent would have simply met with a tragic accident. The streets of Metropolis had been so dangerous since Nightfall.

But Lex had been forced to flee before those plans could be put into serious motion. And what was worse, the evidence that Nigel had stupidly allowed to survive had turned his Lois against him. That meant that he needed to find a way to not only eliminate Kent, but to rehabilitate himself in her eyes. Planning for that operation had been nearly complete when Superman reappeared.

Superman provided Lex with new purpose. He would destroy the hero -- painfully, personally this time -- and use the same operation to effect his rehabilitation with Lois. Indeed, the operation was proceeding perfectly according to plan. Superman and Lois were now exactly where they were supposed to be.

Lex was considering heading for bed when a particularly special light flashed. Lex picked up the phone and dialed a number that he'd committed to memory. The voice at the other end of the line answered with, "Control room."

"You signaled," Lex said.

"She's awake."

"Good, how is she?"

"Angry. As you predicted, she tried threatening us with powerful friends. I replied with the exact lines from the script."

"I want the record of your exchange, along with the video, sent to me immediately," Lex said calmly.

"Sir, we can provide a feed. Also, as you know, you could speak to her directly. It would be impossible for her to recognize your voice."

"I can't risk that," Lex replied. "She's too smart. She might be able to pick out a phrase or recognize word choices if I were to speak to her directly. We will continue as planned."

"Yes, sir."

"What's happening now?"

"They -- her and the servant woman -- have decided that it's morning. They're getting ready for breakfast."

Lex glanced at the clock which showed 2:00 a.m. Removing them from any external time sense would create subtle imbalances which would serve his long term goals. "Very well, remember, they cannot be allowed to have any clues as to the time of day or any other time passage."

"Yes sir. I have the men who are monitoring Ms. Lane's apartment on special three-hour shifts around the clock to make sure that they are always fresh."

"Good," Lex said. "I'll be waiting for that video."

"I will send it as soon as this call is finished."

Lex leaned back in his chair and smiled. After they were married, Lois was going to love Italy. And eventually, after -- with her help -- his image had been rehabilitated -- she would come to relish in being the very public Mrs. Lex Luthor.

Chapter 10: Changes

"...in front of him?"

The voice startled Clark awake. For only the briefest instant, he couldn't remember where he was. Unfortunately, his discomfort reminded him all too quickly of both his location and situation. He seemed to be strapped in a chair that was deliberately designed to be too low. His ankles were chained to the legs of the chair with ankle cuffs. His arms were chained to his side. The position would have been uncomfortable even without the Kryptonite, and he'd been in the exact same position all night. Right now Clark could tell that Kryptonite was nearby, but the real sources of pain were his knees and back.

The he heard Lex's voice. "Of course. I prefer that he know what we're planning and what's in store for him. For Superman, this room is -- if you will -- a roach motel. Why do you think I had your men epoxy all that Kryptonite to the walls of the entryway tunnel?"

"To make it impossible for him to escape," the other voice replied.

"Exactly. I didn't have people scouring the central part of the country looking for these crystals because I liked the way they look."

"Yes, sir. You were fortunate to find that Kryptonite meteor impact site east of Dodge City. If not for that find, we wouldn't have enough of the crystal to create a chamber like this."

There was a pause as if Lex were considering something. "Did you finish your Kryptonite susceptibility tests last night?"

"Yes, sir."

"What did you learn?"

"Didn't you get the report?" the voice asked in a slightly confused tone.

"Yes," Luthor replied coldly. "But I want to compare your interpretation of the data against the opinions I formed. So humor me and assume that I didn't read the report."

"Very well. We have identified five key distances where the effects of the Kryptonite seem to be significantly different."

Luthor looked in Clark's direction. As their eyes locked, Luthor checked for only the briefest instant then smiled ever so slightly. Without taking his eyes from Clark, he continued his discussion. "Describe the effects and the distances."

"At five meters, the effect seems to disappear. I would like to have tested that distance more thoroughly, but at the first signs of him getting stronger, we terminated that part of the test."

Luthor looked around the room. "The Kryptonite in the walls is closer than that. How were you able to perform those tests?"

"I had my assistants temporarily cover the Kryptonite on the walls with lead shielding and used the Kryptonite on the ceiling cables for this part of the test."

Luthor's turned quickly to the scientist. "You fool! That was dangerous. What if he would have escaped?"

The scientist stood his ground. "Mr. Luthor, I'm in charge of this operation because I'm the best. If he would have escaped, I'd be dead now. I knew that before I started. I took precautions. In any case, he didn't, and now that we have the information, there is no need to do anything like that again."

Luthor glared at the scientist for a moment before letting the issue pass. "Continue," he said finally.

"At four meters he is clearly affected. The health monitors suggest that he only feels minimal pain, but there are no signs of his getting stronger." He paused but Luthor said nothing and he continued. "Three meters is where the significant negative effects really begin. At that distance he is clearly in pain and his vital signs start to drop. I suspect that if he were to be exposed to that level for too many consecutive days, it could kill him. However, it is possible that he might be able to survive -- but just barely, and he would be in a great deal of pain."

"Does he recover when you move the Kryptonite back to four meters?"

"Yes, but very slowly."

Luthor was silent for another moment. "Tell me the rest," he said.

"Two meters seems to be the beginning of the terminal distance. He was clearly incapacitated and his vital signs started dropping very quickly. I would guess that continual exposure at that distance will kill him in less than a day. It was during that test that he lost control of himself."

"Lost control?"

There was a pause and the sound of a throat being cleared. "He lost control of both his bowels and bladder."

Lex laughed out loud. "That's excellent. I see that you've cleaned him up."

"Yes, sir. Per your instructions we had already removed the uniform that he arrived in and sent it to your office."

"You made sure it was undamaged?"

"Of course, sir. You made it quite clear that you did not want your trophy damaged in any way."

"Good. Continue," Luthor directed.

"We had dressed him in one of our duplicate uniforms before we started this test. Once he had his -- accident -- we changed the lower part of his uniform again."

"Do you think this is going to be a problem? I don't want him soiling himself during our sessions."

"I don't believe that there will be. I have information from STAR Labs that he appears to be capable of existing solely on light, and may not need either food or water. My plan is to keep this room very brightly lighted using full-spectrum lamps and see how his system reacts. If that works, and he is able to survive on only the light, then once any food or water works its way out of his system, there will be no way for that unpleasantness to repeat itself."

"Good. In the meantime keep him clean. I want to see his blood, but not his bodily waste."

"Of course, Mr. Luthor."

"So tell me what happened when the Kryptonite was set to one meter," Lex directed.

"True lethality," the scientist replied. "We had to keep the test short for fear of killing him ourselves. But when he was that close to the Kryptonite, he was completely incapacitated. He could not move and could barely continue breathing. My calculations suggest death in just a few minutes."

"Are there any other factors I should know about?"

"The amount of Kryptonite is important. More material has a proportionally greater effect."

"So, with the amount that we have suspended from the ceiling," Luthor asked, "What would happen if we hit the panic button and drop all of it to the floor?"

The scientist looked up for a moment as if surveying the amount of Kryptonite. "With this much he would be completely overwhelmed. He would be unable to move and I'd estimate that he would be dead in less than a minute."

"And if he somehow got free of his restraints and charged the door?"

"That doorway tunnel is over two meters long. He wouldn't even make it half way through before he would be overwhelmed. That is part of the reason that we have an airlock-style door to get in and out of this chamber and Kryptonite embedded in both doors."

"So there isn't any way he can escape?"

"No. Not unless a person were to remove all of that Kryptonite. Even if someone were to try to carry him out, because of the time it takes for the doors to cycle, he would be dead before he could get clear."

"Good," Luthor said. Then he turned to Clark. "I hope you were paying attention. I want you to know just how helpless you are." Then Luthor came over and squatted next to him. "If you beg for death, I might just decide to kill you quickly," he whispered.

Clark had known that the man was evil, but this was way beyond his experience. And he had Lois.

Luthor stood and headed for the shelf with the gloves. "Zee, please let me have some personal time with Superman." Luthor said as he put on the gloves. As Clark watched the scientist head for the tunnel that led out of the room, Clark felt a shattering blow to his jaw. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Luthor yelled as he delivered a blow to Clark's midsection.

Clark looked up at him. "What do you want?"

"That's better. I want you to tell me where you've been staying since Nightfall."

"No," Clark replied clearly.

"Wrong answer!" Luthor shouted, as he hit him across the jaw again. "You see, I have to pay your benefactors my respects for taking such good care of you." Then Luthor turned and looked up at the glass of the control booth overhead. "Zee, what's the Kryptonite distance?"

"Four meters," came the reply through the speaker system.

"Lower it to three," Luthor commanded.

Clark could feel the change immediately. Except for Luthor's blows, the main source of his discomfort had been from the chair. Now he could really feel the Kryptonite. It was like a fire burning its way through his body. It continued to get worse until Clark simply couldn't keep his eyes open. For a long time all he knew was a mix of the burning pain of the Kryptonite mixed with the different pain of Luthor's beating.

He must have blacked out, because the next thing he heard was that voice again. "That's four meters, sir."

"Perfect," came Luthor's voice. Clark could tell that Luthor was no longer next to him. A long moment passed in silence. He's expected Luthor to continue the beating. Or to gloat... or something. Finally Clark forced his eyes open. There was Luthor sitting in a chair that Clark had not noticed before. He was just staring at him. "You're still with us," Luthor said pleasantly. "I wanted to try something." He reached behind the chair and pulled out what looked like a hard rubber or plastic police baton. Without warning he swung and hit Clark's head. There was an explosion of pain and then blackness. Just before the dark took him, Clark heard Luthor laughing.

***

Lois spent her third day in captivity reading. Under other circumstances, this might be some kind of vacation. She looked at the room around her. If this were a hotel, she suspected that it would be a five-star establishment. Her bedroom and bathroom were both luxurious. The exercise room had more and better equipment than many commercial gyms that she'd belonged to over the years. The library was of stunning diversity, and when she'd asked about a new bestseller that she'd wanted to read, it was delivered in the dumbwaiter in less than an hour. And the food! Lois had always appreciated good food. One of the reasons that she'd never cooked, was that she knew that she couldn't do as good as a restaurant. Clark was a good cook, but the food here made his best seem like eating from a dirty can.

She wondered what Clark was doing. Was he okay? These people... they'd implied that she was being held to compel him to do something. They must know that they couldn't really make Superman do anything against his nature. They probably just want him to steal something. Even then, it would probably be from someone with insurance. Whatever it was, she wished he'd get on with it. She did miss him and wanted to go home.

She reached to the table beside her, picked up the small bell located there and rang it. A moment later Martha arrived. She was wearing some kind of uniform that reminded her of a maid. "You rang, ma'am?" Martha said.

"Martha, I asked you to call me Lois. And you know you don't have to wear a uniform."

"I understand, ma'am. But I was hired to do a job, and this is the only way I know how to do it."

"Fine," Lois replied. "But at least think of calling me by my first name," she pleaded.

A slight smile touched Martha's lips. "I'll consider it," she offered. "In the meantime, what can I do for you?"

"Would you be a dear and make me a cup of Earl Grey tea?"

"I'll be happy to," Martha said. "And please let me know when you start to get hungry and I'll place your dinner order."

"I guess that is one of the things that's bothering me the most. Without some sense of time I don't know what to do about eating. Are you hungry?"

"No," Martha replied. "But that's because I already ate."

"You did," Lois said, surprised. "Why didn't you tell me and we could have eaten together?"

"Ma'am, I'm used to eating alone. I've never eaten with any of my ladies, and it just doesn't feel right. Besides, it seems clear that you are I run on different clocks. So please just let me know when you get hungry."

Lois considered that for a moment. Martha was a dear, but she seemed awfully fixed in her ways. "I really don't feel hungry," Lois admitted. "For now I'll just have that tea and continue on my book."

"Very good, ma'am. If that will be all, I'll go prepare your tea."

"Yes, thank you, Martha."

"You're welcome, ma'am."

As Martha left the room, Lois realized that she appreciated the convenience of having the older lady around. That first morning, when she'd found herself here, Lois had been convinced that the best aspect of having Martha would be company. But, despite the fact that she'd remained friendly, by this morning it was clear that Martha was much more comfortable in the more constrained relationship of a servant.

Since the reality was that both of them were prisoners, Lois had decided to try to work within the constraints of the situation and had been doing her best to make Martha comfortable. Lois wasn't sure if it was more due to Martha, or an unknown side of herself, but it had been surprisingly easy to take on the pattern of Martha's "lady." In fact, Lois was surprised how much she enjoyed being taken care of once she'd resolved herself to it.

As she picked up her book, she had a fleeting thought that Clark really didn't have to hurry that much.

***

As Lex approached the Superman chamber, he couldn't help but wonder how long he was going to be able to continue to enjoy this daily distraction. This would be the fifth day of Superman's captivity. While he continued to enjoy beating the sap senseless several times every day, Lex had to admit that the joy was going out of it. This morning for instance, Lex was looking forward to abusing Superman, but he was far more interested in what was happening to the charming Ms. Lane in her luxury captivity.

Then it hit him. Today would be a perfect day to go with a little psychological warfare. He had his doubts about the effectiveness of more physical torture. But a little psychological game would be perfect.

Lex found himself smiling as he reached the stairway that led to the main observation chamber. After climbing a few steps he reached to small control room. There were three people present. One was monitoring the bio-sensor panel and the other two were watching Superman through the thick leaded glass.

"Dr. Zee," Lex said by way of announcing himself, "Do you have anything to report this morning?"

Zee turned around. "Good morning, Mr. Luthor. During a review of Superman's vital signs last night, we discovered an anomaly. I've been personally reviewing the data so that I would be ready for you this morning."

"Is something wrong?" Lex asked. "Is there any danger that he will escape?"

"No, sir," Zee replied confidently. "As we discussed that first morning, the Kryptonite in the chamber makes that impossible. What we have noticed is a steady lowering in his vital signs. If you would look at this graph, you will be able to see what I mean."

Lex stepped over to the work surface that Zee had indicated. There were a series of lines that showed a general tendency down. "What do these mean?" Lex asked.

"Each of these lines tracks an element of Superman's physical well-being. As you can see, ever since he's been here they have trended down."

Lex looked at the dates on the chart. "Do you believe that my time with him has anything to do with this?"

"Yes, but only to a small extent. I specifically looked for variances in the data during and just after the time you spend with him each day. There is a minor variance, but those fluctuations are only a small part of the general trend. I have to believe that it's the Kryptonite in the chamber itself. I don't know any other way to interpret this data than to say that it's killing him."

It looked like the concern about becoming bored with Superman was unwarranted. "Do you have an estimate of how long he has?"

"At the rate these indicators are dropping, they will reach zero in approximately a month."

"So he'll be dead in a month?" Luthor asked.

"No, Sir. He'll die far sooner than that. Once he reaches this point," Zee indicated a level of about forty percent on the chart, "he'll be unable to sustain himself. I believe that he will reach that point in about a week. And I fear that if you continue your daily... recreation, he won't last that long."

"Are you telling me that I should ease up on him?" Luthor demanded.

"No, sir. I would not presume. I'm simply providing you the information that I have."

Lex considered this for a minute. "Do you have a suggestion that might keep him alive longer?"

"Yes, I do. We have an option to tie the mechanism that controls the height of the suspended Kryptonite to the health monitor. We can then dial in the desired health level and the machine will automatically adjust the position of the Kryptonite to keep him at that level. If you would like to see it in action I can make the connection now."

"Do it," Lex said.

Zee must have anticipated his decision because he simply flipped a switch. Lex looked out through the observation glass and watched the Kryptonite start to rise to the ceiling. It stopped at what Lex recognized as the four meter mark. He turned to Zee. "Why did it stop there?"

"I programmed the mechanism with limits on the possible travel. The automated system is limited to travel from four meters to two meters so that we don't risk either underexposing or overexposing him to the effects of the Kryptonite."

"Let's see how he does on this for a few days," Lex said. "And I had been planning on altering my time with Superman anyway, so I will give him today off to have a chance to regain some strength." Lex then left the control room and entered the chamber with the helpless ex-hero. Lex had noted that Superman was unconscious. In prior days, he'd simply pounded on the hero until he woke up, but today he simply brought a paper cup filled with ice water. When he reached Superman -- strapped in the chair as always -- he threw the water in Superman's face.

The big guy reacted as Lex had hoped. Superman shook his head and muttered, "Wha..." After a few seconds he looked up. As soon as he recognized Lex his face took on an air of hopeless resignation. "Oh..." was all he said.

That reaction and look completely made up for not getting to beat on him today. As Lex looked into the battered, bruised and cut face of his enemy, he realized that he had achieved his goal. Superman was broken. Now it was time to rub salt in the wounds.

"Good morning, Superman." Lex said cheerily. "My scientists tell me that you're dying. It is my intention to kill you, but not this quickly. So, I'm going to give you a day off and there will be no beating today. Besides, my fists were starting to get a little sore so I could use the day off as well." Lex paused, but Superman didn't reply. "I wanted to compliment you on your idea to remove Mr. Kent to parts unknown before coming to see me. My contacts at the Daily Planet have passed along the information that his parents shared with Mr. White. However, I do intend to make Mr. Kent pay for his part in what he did to me."

Lex noticed that Superman looked more alert now. "You are listening," Lex said, "Good, I don't want you to miss this part. You see, my revenge against Kent is tied to my larger plan. My abduction of Ms. Lane was only partially to capture you. I have a larger long-term plan to make the lovely Ms. Lane mine. Even now she is being held prisoner only a few hundred yards from you. Of course, her accommodations are much more comfortable than yours. She is learning to appreciate the finer elements of life. I have also developed some extremely compelling evidence that I was as much a victim as you in the original Nightfall encounter."

"She'll never..." Superman muttered, then seemed to catch himself and stopped speaking.

Lex laughed out loud. "This is wonderful. I definitely need to see if I can find some way to keep you alive long enough to see that plan come to fruition. In the meantime, I'll leave you to your own thoughts. You can have all of today alone to visualize the lovely Lois happily married to me." Then Lex turned and walked away. Yes, this had been much more enjoyable than just another physical beating.

***

Lois rang the bell again. Where was that stupid woman? It seemed that every day the old hag put less effort into her work. She'd been serving Lois for eight days now, and Lois was reaching the end of her patience.

There was a light knock on the door. "Come in!" Lois barked. The door opened quickly and Martha came in. "What took you so long?" Lois snapped. Then she noticed that Martha looked particularly disheveled. "And what's wrong with you? You look like you just got out of bed."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Martha said defensively. "I was asleep when you called. I'm having trouble adjusting to the schedule without a clock to help me keep track of time."

"You were asleep? I told you two days ago that you may rest more during the day, but you must be ready for me when I wake up. I suppose that means you haven't placed my breakfast order yet?"

"No, ma'am."

"And you probably haven't even started my coffee?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll try to do better."

Lois scowled at her. "You'd better. Get those started at once. I'm going to take my shower. I expect that by the time I'm done, my coffee will be ready and breakfast will be here."

"I'll try, ma'am. Is that all?"

"Not quite, you stupid cow. You are not to have anything to eat yourself this morning. Perhaps that will help motivate you to get up on time tomorrow. And don't think I won't check. I spoke to the call service yesterday and made sure that they'll report to me everything that has been ordered. If I find that you tried to sneak food, I will make your life even harder than it is now."

"Yes, ma'am. I wouldn't dream of defying your instructions. Will that be all?"

"Yes. Now get out!"

Lois watched Martha turn and start through the door. Just as the door closed, Lois heard Martha's voice from the other side of the door. "Evil bitch."

Lois almost called her back, but what was the point? She didn't care if Martha liked her or not. Just so long as the old hag gave good service. Martha was really no more than a peasant of a woman. Taking care of someone as important as Lois was clearly far beyond her ability. Lois had seen proper servants before. Lex had had real talent at selecting servants. She thought back to the times she'd had dinner in his penthouse. The servants were prompt, capable and well-mannered. None of them would ever call Lex a derogatory name. And they'd known enough that if Lex was treating her as someone important, then they would also. Now that she really thought about it, she feared that she'd spend the rest of her life thinking of Lex as 'the one that got away.' Yes, Lex had been especially interested in her. If only someone else would have been behind the attack on Superman. If things had gone differently, then maybe she could have married Lex instead of that stupid shit-kicking husband of hers.

She suddenly realized that she hadn't even thought of Clark for a couple of days now. Had he forgotten about her as well? Probably, she thought. Clark really wasn't her type. What had she seen in him? He probably went back to Kansas the moment she disappeared and was shacking up with some stupid, blonde, buck-toothed farm girl. He really never did figure out how to live in the big city. He never understood her needs as someone that came from a sophisticated, upper-class environment.

She decided that she might as well get started before that stupid cow-woman forgot that she was there to take care of Lois. When Lois got to the shower she turned it on and stepped in quickly. Unfortunately she'd not waited and the water was still cold. She jumped back out of the shower and, in her haste, slipped. As she fell, her head bumped the counter and she saw stars for a moment.

Then she felt a wave of despair. Where was Clark, she thought. She was lonely and needed him to get through this. Then she remembered her thoughts from a few minutes ago. "What's happening to me?" she said aloud. Then she hung her head and thought for a moment. I'm not that person. I love Clark. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. He must be in a lot of trouble, or he'd have rescued me already.

She went over her thoughts from a few minutes ago. Where were those thoughts coming from? She stood and looked in the mirror. There was probably going to be a bruise on her forehead. She continued to stare at her own face in the mirror for a long time. "Hold it together, Lois," she said to her reflection. She almost said more but remembered that she was almost certainly under surveillance. She ended up simply shaking her head and carefully getting into the shower.

Chapter 11: Plans

The first thing that Lex noticed when he entered the holding chamber this morning was that Superman was awake. Lex couldn't help but smile. This was the first time in over a week that he wasn't going to have to wake up his playmate. It also meant that he could allow himself to thoroughly enjoy their time together. "So how are we doing today?" Lex asked, as he approached his enemy.

Superman didn't respond. The fact that he was awake meant that today would provide an opportunity for physical recreation. He'd come to relish the feel of Superman's flesh giving way beneath his fists, and had missed that more than he'd expected the last few days. Lex stopped near the door just long enough to put on the special gloves. He walked up to the man in blue, grabbed his chin and lifted it so that he could look in his face. It seemed clear that skipping the beatings for several days had restored some of his strength. Then Lex glanced up toward the ceiling and noticed that the Kryptonite was lower than it had been since they'd started using the automatic system. It looked like the Kryptonite was at the lowest position of the allowed range of automatic travel. He returned his eyes to Superman. "You look better this morning," he commented. "Let's see if I can help with that." And Lex punched him directly in the eye.

Superman let out a groan of pain that made Lex smile. Yes, this was going to be an excellent morning. If the Kryptonite was that low, there wouldn't be any reason to hold back. Lex punched the fallen hero a few more times. Superman was definitely healthier this morning. The last time he'd beaten him up this thoroughly, Superman's face had been a bloody mess by the third blow. This morning, there were a few skin tears and some swelling, but nothing like what he'd seen before.

Within a few minutes, the more healthy look was long gone. Superman liked to wear red, and Lex loved to accommodate him by making sure that he was wearing plenty of his own blood. After several more minutes, Lex decided that he was satisfied with this morning's activities. Besides, he had a meeting in less than an hour. He knelt down beside his enemy who was now slumped heavily in the chair. After this many days chained in the same position, Lex wondered if he would even be able to walk if freed. Not that that was going to happen. "Can you hear me?" he asked.

Superman didn't respond, Lex he retreated to the water that had been kept nearby since the first time he'd needed to rouse Superman. The sap startled when Lex threw the ice water in his face. "Are you back with me now?" he demanded.

"What do you want?" Superman asked wearily, spitting out blood.

"I thought you might like to know how Lois is doing. I never realized how demanding she could be. After seeing her interact with her maid -- did I tell you that she had a maid -- I'm even more convinced that she was destined for much more in a mate than a Kansas refugee. Why, just this morning I saw her chew out her housekeeper for not responding quickly enough. Then Lois – quite properly -- called this poor woman a stupid cow and barred her from eating as a punishment for not serving Lois quickly enough. All in all it was a wonderful performance. I couldn't have done better myself."

Lex watched carefully for a reaction. Superman didn't say anything, but Lex realized that he was shaking his head very slowly. "You doubt my word? Well, of course you do. So, I thought after all this time you would enjoy hearing her voice."

Lex looked in the direction of the control room. "Play the recording." he said loudly.

Lois's voice came up. "Come in. What took you so long? And what's wrong with you? You look like you just got out of bed."

Then Martha's voice. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I was asleep when you called. I'm having trouble adjusting to the schedule without a clock to help me keep track of time."

Lex watched Superman's face as the recording continued. After Martha's assessment of, "Evil bitch," the recording stopped.

"Did you enjoy hearing Lois's voice?" Lex asked, mockingly.

Superman took a moment to gather himself. "What have you done to her?" he finally asked, barely above a whisper.

"Done? Nothing. I've just allowed her to see what kind of life she could have. I think I've found the real Lois Lane. Perhaps you need to listen more carefully and you will come to understand her as I always have. Fortunately I've made arrangements for the recording to play in a loop for your listening pleasure."

Lex was surprised to see Superman glaring at him. That was more energy than he'd shown since that first day. Lex turned and headed out of the chamber. "Start the loop," he said as he headed out. He heard Lois's voice start up again. Still... something about the way Superman looked left him a little uncomfortable. For the first time since Superman's capture, Lex felt a sense of danger. He knew that if Superman were to escape, even the big Boy Scout might be tempted to kill him. But Zee had his own reasons for hating Superman, and Lex knew that the scientist would kill Superman before he would risk the hero regaining his strength.

***

After arriving back at his office, it took a few minutes for Lex to compose himself. That last look from Superman had upset him. He'd spent the walk from the chamber back to his office reviewing the steps that were in place to contain Superman. First there was the chamber itself. Then there was the suspended Kryptonite with the emergency button to drop the Kryptonite to the floor if Superman looked to be ready to cause trouble. And, of course, the gunmen in the shooting stations with their guns full of alternating Kryptonite and armor piercing bullets and their orders to shoot immediately if Superman broke free.

He was in no danger from Superman. But Lex was having trouble getting past the look on his enemy's face. For the first time since he'd been a captive, Superman had not looked like a defeated man. Lois Lane had certainly been the right button to press. Lex had to wonder if Kent knew that Superman had such strong feelings for his wife. But that was neither here nor there. The fact that a more defiant expression from Superman could trigger this level of concern meant that it might be nearly time to end this. Yes, he would make tomorrow morning's visit with Superman extra special.

After a moment he reached for an intercom system on the table next to the phone and pressed the button.

The reply was almost immediate. "Yes, sir?"

"Notify Dr. Mendenhall that I want to see him in my office."

"Yes, sir."

While he waited, Lex realized that he needed to review the plan for disposal of Superman's body. That also meant triggering the second part of that plan that would eliminate Zee as well as everyone else who had any knowledge of Superman's capture and captivity. As he reviewed the plan and all of the contingencies that it included, he had to concede that it was a good plan.

A moment later there was a knock on the door. Lex pushed the button that would release the door lock. There was a brief buzz and the door opened admitting the older, slightly heavyset professor. "Good morning, Mr. Luthor," he said. "You asked to see me?"

"Yes, doctor. Please sit down." Lex waited while the doctor took the seat on the other side of the desk. "I'd like your report on the Ms. Lane's status."

"It's going very well. Have you seen the video from earlier this morning?"

"I have," Lex answered calmly. "So is it your assessment that the program is on schedule?"

"Certainly!" The doctor answered enthusiastically. "It's possible that the program may be ahead of schedule. I knew that this kind of progress might be possible, but I was never able to have such complete control of my subjects in any of my earlier tests."

"Good," Lex said. "Now, would you please review the program and Ms. Lane's progress in detail?"

"She is still in phase one of the program. The goal of this phase is to work on her subconscious to either strengthen or weaken general perceptions that she already carries. In this way, we lay the foundation for later phases where she will be exposed to ideas that are further from her current perceptions."

"Please be specific," Lex directed. "What ideas are you introducing in her sleep?"

"Mr. Luthor, you have to understand, it's not just while she's asleep. The apartment is a sea of subtle audible and visual cues. Every time she listens to music or watches a video, she is being inundated with the message program. Total immersion in the subliminal signals is at the heart of my program."

"Of course," Lex humored him. "Just tell me what ideas your system is planting."

The doctor paused for a moment, clearly arranging his thoughts. "We know from her background that Ms. Lane is proud of growing up in Metropolis. Like many people from urban environments, we found some indications that she has a certain level of contempt for people with a more rural background. With that in mind we have been reinforcing the idea that individuals with a rural background, particularly anyone who grew up on a farm, as being ignorant, lazy and generally beneath her station."

"So that's targeting Mr. Kent. What else are you doing to help her move on from her soon-to-be ex-husband?"

"Since we know she has perfect vision, we are reinforcing the idea that glasses are an unattractive sign of weakness."

"Please continue," Lex said.

"We're leveraging her generally suspicious nature to foster an extreme level of disbelief in scientists. This is the first step to having her dismiss the evidence against you that she discovered after the Nightfall mission."

Lex thought about what the doctor had told him. "Everything that you have described seems to be designed to generate negative reactions and negative feelings. Is your system limited to inducing negative attitudes?"

"No, sir. Sorry, I tend to group them that way. For every negative issue, there is a positive perception that we are working on."

"For example?" Lex asked.

"The strongest program that is now underway is to reinforce her enjoyment of the more lavish lifestyle. This is a two pronged approach where we are fostering a feeling of discontent at her post-Nightfall life in Mr. Kent's small apartment and encouraging a feeling of entitlement of a more lavish life. As you are certainly aware, there is ample evidence of the success of this part of the program."

"Are you introducing positive ideas that are of a more personal nature?" Lex asked with an emphasis on the word personal.

Mendenhall seemed to pick up on his meaning. "We are reinforcing her perception that she loves the smell of cigar smoke. In fact we have one sequence that we are very proud of that should cause her to come to associate that smell with arousal."

Lex couldn't help but to smile at that one. "What else are you doing to alter her perception of me?"

"Originally I hadn't planned to introduce direct positive ideas of you until phase two. But when I saw the friction developing so quickly between Ms. Lane and her maid, I developed a plan to associate you with the ability to select and manage staff. I hope to have video or audio evidence of the success of that part of the program within a few days."

The doctor paused again. He was clearly nervous and looking for Lex's approval. "Continue," was all Lex said.

"She already has a strong success drive. Later on, in phase two, we are going to use that as a basis to plant the idea that a success at all costs attitude is the only way to approach life. We believe we can eventually leverage this to the point that she may even come to believe that anything done in the name of success is justified. Naturally, that would be a long term goal. However, in the short term, we believe that her attitudes can be modified so that she is at least ready to appreciate that approach to life and admire anyone that embodies it."

"You do understand how much is riding on your being able to get the results that you claimed?" Lex asked.

Mendenhall's face grew serious. "Of course I do. But you've already seen the preliminary results with Ms. Lane and her housekeeper. And you've seen the results of my earlier trials. As long as we don't suggest anything clearly at odds with her currently held beliefs, the subliminals are very effective. In this environment, we are able to redefine her currently held beliefs on a daily basis. As long as we make each step small, then, given enough time, we can move her a long way."

"But some of the ideas you outlined a moment ago, such as those aimed at lowering her opinion of her husband, seem to be large changes in her beliefs and attitudes."

"They are, but you mustn't look at the destination. Remember that this is a journey. As long as each idea is itself not completely outside the bounds of her beliefs, we can use those ideas to shift her core values. In that way we can achieve large changes in beliefs by many small steps. For example, we can't directly attack her attraction to her husband. Anything along those lines will not work this early in the program. However, we can achieve the same thing, if more slowly, by the less direct path that I described. Since she grew up in the city, she already has a strong predisposition to think less of people from a rural background. That's the lever we use to undermine her feeling for her husband. We aren't introducing an idea that's completely foreign. I'm only reinforcing an existing opinion. Similarly, while we cannot immediately induce positive feelings or attitudes toward you, we can reinforce and even introduce positive feelings of elements that closely associate with you. Then it's a very natural matter for her to transfer that positive association with a person that reflects the trait. We don't even have to push her for that part. Once the groundwork is in place, she will do the rest on her own."

Mendenhall was very confident of himself. But then, the results they'd already seen were barely short of amazing. "Please go over your projected timetable for the rest of the project."

"We are almost half way through phase one. As you will recall, the goal of the first phase is breaking ties to her husband and her old life. In her current environment -- being a captive -- negative feelings are easier to reinforce. Within another week or so she should be disgusted with her husband and will be well on the way to disliking everything about him. I suspect that before she hits a month, she will be to the point where, if she were to gain her freedom, her first act would be to file for divorce. Of course, by that time we will be into phase two of the program."

"Why so long?" Lex asked. "Based on the evidence I've seen, she looks to be ready for phase two now."

"I understand," the doctor replied. "But at this time, the behaviors you are seeing are very superficial. She's accepting the program, but those attitudes are not yet integrated into her core personality. For example, you are familiar with the exchange she had with her servant this morning?"

"You mean the one where she forbade Martha from eating?" Lex clarified.

"Yes, that one. And while we're on the subject of her servant, I have to congratulate you again for picking a woman with the same first name as her mother-in-law. In the long run we are going to be able to leverage her growing contempt for Martha to reinforce the idea that everything about her husband, including even his mother's name, is beneath Ms. Lane's station."

Lex simply nodded. When he'd seen the list of prospects for Lois's maid, the opportunity had been obvious. "Continue," was all he said.

"Yes, sir," Mendenhall said. "Well, right after that incident, Ms. Lane slipped in the bathroom and bumped her head. There is some evidence that in that instant of shock and pain she lost the programming for a short time."

"You mean one bump on the head can undo all our work?" Lex asked in anger.

"At this stage, yes. But I can show you recordings from only four hours later, which clearly indicate that the programming had reasserted itself. That's why the program takes as long as it does. By the time she completes each phase, the programming for that phase will be absolutely permanent. So, to your question as to the ability to undo the programming so easily, the answer is a resounding, "No!" Once each phase is complete, then she will have integrated those attitudes into her core personality and nothing will cause her to revert to her pre-programming personality or attitudes."

"Very well," Lex said. "What about phase two?"

"That will begin in approximately another two to three weeks. Phase two will reinforce the concept that the role of a woman is to be a good wife to the strongest man she can find. At the same time, we will be building on ideas that we introduced in phase one to strengthen her belief that power and ruthlessness is the ultimate sign of strength and that it is her desire to become the wife of that kind of man."

"And then?" Lex prompted.

"Phase three is when you will appear and rescue her from her captivity. By doing this, you will be demonstrating both the ability to survive, and establishing her role as being dependent on you. As I explained when I originally outlined the program, you will need to plan the rescue and subsequent flight so that you are both on the run continually for the first few days. She has to believe she is in danger of being recaptured so that she has no chance to go back to her old life. Once the two of you are in-transit, you will have the opportunity to present your argument that the case against you for your involvement in the original Nightfall attack on Superman was all an elaborate frame. This will also be the best time to reveal the death of Mr. Kent. Learning that she's alone while you are on the run will increase her tendency to look to you for support and comfort."

Mendenhall must have picked up something from his expression. "Mr. Kent is dead, isn't he?"

"No. Superman took steps to remove him before we could act. Will you be able to accommodate that in your conditioning program?"

"Of course," Mendenhall replied quickly. "As I outlined a moment ago, much of the early program is aimed at lowering her opinion of Kent. If you could provide information of his past relationships, it should be easy enough to plant the seed of an idea that he has been cheating on her. In fact, some of the program that she has been experiencing already has generic versions of those types of suggestions."

"I'll get you the information," Lex said.

"Then it shouldn't be a problem. By the time we are done I doubt she'll even believe he's worth the time for a divorce."

"Very well, please continue with your overview of the plan."

"The program is constructed around the expectation that your escape and subsequent flight will leave you in Europe. Is that still your plan?"

"Yes,"

"Good. So, when you arrive in Europe, you'll need to show her your evidence of the real story behind the Nightfall mission attack on Superman. My calculations indicate that, by that point in time, she will be more than ready to accept the evidence and that will be the tipping point. By accepting that you were wronged, and knowing that she had been a key player in unfairly ruining the life of the person that has now saved her, she will commit herself to you and the goal of making up for her mistake in wrongly accusing you. Once this happens, she will be yours for the rest of her life."

"How long will all this take?"

"My original estimates for phases one and two were that they would each take between four and five weeks each. The evidence that I've seen so far leaves me optimistic that we will be on the short end of those estimates. If that proves true, we may be ready to begin phase three in as little as another seven weeks. Then, once you and Ms. Lane escape, your time in flight from here to your European destination should take on the close order of a week."

"And you don't anticipate a problem with Lois reverting to her old self once she's removed from the continuous subliminal messages that she's getting in her apartment?" Lex asked.

"No. As I explained a moment ago, once she integrates a phase of the program into her core personality, there is no going back. However, for the time being, continual exposure to the program is crucial."

"But you said we were ahead of schedule!"

"I think we are," Mendenhall said fearfully. "The fact that she's accepting the program so quickly is a good sign. However, at this point in the process, those patterns are superficial and only reflective of the fact that she is in the immersive environment. For example, we've been discussing the way she's started treating her maid."

"Yes," Lex responded shortly.

"If Ms. Lane were to be removed from her environment today, she might retain some of the programming for a few weeks, but at this point in the process, those attitudes will fade without some reinforcement."

"The changes had better be permanent!"

"They will be, but not this quickly. By the time the program is complete, the new patterns will be firmly established. And, don't forget that the process will continue even after the two of you leave the apartment. That's why it's critical that she not be allowed to return to her old life. The first few months of her time with you will seal the personality changes in place. Within a few months she will be a different woman. She'll remember the old Lois Lane, but will no more be that woman than you are Superman."

***

Clark could feel it. He was dying. Luthor was going to win.

Keeping some sliver of positive attitude had been the one thing that had kept him going over the past week. It had been hard enough when it had simply been the pain of the Kryptonite and the once or twice daily beatings from Luthor. He'd always been worried about Lois, but somehow he figured that she would be safe. She was smart and knew what Luthor was. Up until today, his biggest concern was that she would be subjected to some kind of physical torture similar to what he was experiencing. But Luthor had been attracted to her. Clark had figured that whatever was likely to happen to him, Lois would be safe.

But now it seemed that Luthor was even more evil and resourceful than he and Lois had thought. Listening to Lois's voice was indeed the worst torture imaginable. That was certainly Lois's voice. But the tone and words were like nothing he'd ever heard from his wife. What could Luthor be doing that caused her to act like that? Whatever it was, the very idea that Luthor had found some way to affect Lois's thinking was even more chilling than the idea of torture.

As one more wave of despair washed over him, he realized that despite the recent beating from Luthor, it almost seemed that he was feeling better. Of course, based on his reading, that's what dying felt like.

The past week had been one continual dose of pain. There had been the "burning inside" sensation that he remembered from the Kryptonite exposure after Nightfall. Then there had been the daily cuts and bruises from the beatings. Today was different. He didn't feel so bad. That could be because Luthor had been in a hurry, but Clark doubted that was the reason. Luthor was very workmanlike in his approach to the beatings. And now the burning that had been so bad before, was barely noticeable. Clark glanced up to the Kryptonite suspended about his head. The poison was at the lowest level. Clark remembered from the first night, that the Kryptonite at that level had triggered excruciating pain. Tonight he barely felt it at all. More than anything else he felt an overwhelming fatigue.

By the time Clark realized he was no longer going to be able to stay awake, he was convinced that this would be the last moments of consciousness on this planet. He realized that for all the good he'd tried to do, he'd failed the one person that mattered most. Then he surrendered to the black.

Chapter 12: Endings

For Clark, the most surprising part of waking up was that he woke up at all. The second most surprising thing was the pain. It was gone! No, that wasn't quite right, it wasn't just that he was pain free -- he felt good.

All this didn't make any sense. He looked up to see the Kryptonite still in the same place, but he couldn't feel it at all. And his face didn't feel torn up. He'd experienced the super-speed, almost magical, healing when he'd been recovering from the building collapse, but it hadn't been working since he'd been in this chamber.

Now he noticed something else. He could hear equipment noise as well as pages of a book turning. He looked up at the control room. Of course, all he could see from his angle was the glass panel overhead. He concentrated on the section of wall just below the glass panel and his x-ray vision kicked on. Well, there was the equipment and there was a single technician sitting there reading a book.

How could this be? Clark looked at the Kryptonite again. It was right there where it had been all along. Could this be some kind of trick? Knowing Luthor, it was always a possibility. If it was, then there was no point in playing along right now and trying to escape. If it wasn't, then Luthor would be here sometime later. Even those days that he'd skipped the beating, he always came by to taunt.

But if he was going to do anything, he was going to need to get free. Clark checked the technician again and made sure he was still concentrating on his book. Then he concentrated on the restraint holding his left arm. Clark had not tried to escape these chains since his first day here. The restraints were all made out of heavy gauge steel. He carefully moved his arm so that he was stressing the clamp holding his wrist. Then, he very carefully applied just a little pressure. The metal restraint stretched and bent like wet clay. His super strength was back as well. That meant he could probably escape at any time. But what if Lois had been moved? He needed Luthor as leverage. This was a time to wait, plan and hope this wasn't some kind of elaborate trick by Luthor.

***

Lex was practically whistling as he approached the chamber. After yesterday's interview with Mendenhall, he'd spent the evening reviewing the data on the unauthorized experiments that the good doctor had performed on his patients before Lex had found him. Lex was no expert, but it wasn't that difficult to interpret the results. All the evidence that he'd looked at supported Mendenhall's interpretation of the data. Lois really seemed to be accepting the programming faster than the doctor's previous patients. However, given the level of immersion that she was being subjected to, the quicker results were not surprising.

And this morning he'd decided something else. Torturing Superman had been fun, but it had not proved to be as much fun as he'd expected, at least not since those first few days. It would probably be more enjoyable if there was some way that Superman could be allowed to resist. Unfortunately, that was simply too dangerous. So, all things considered, Lex had decided that it was time to end this part of the game. Today would be his last "interview" with Superman and it would be Superman's last moments alive.

As he approached the chamber, he saw Zee waiting for him near the entrance. "Good morning, Mr. Luthor. I was told that you wanted me to meet you this morning."

"Yes, Zee. I've decided to terminate this experiment. I wanted you to be sure that the recording devices are all ready."

"They are," Zee replied.

"When I'm finished with Superman this morning, I'm going to want you to drop the Kryptonite. Do we need to set up a signal of any kind?"

"No, sir. Whenever you are with him, we monitor you constantly. If you say anything like, 'Drop it,' or 'Drop it now," we will be ready and immediately drop the Kryptonite."

"Good," Lex replied. "Did you call in the extra guards?"

"Yes, but I don't think it will be necessary."

"I do," Lex replied shortly. "So tell me the status of the guards."

"Both of the shooter rooms have two guards each. Furthermore, they've been briefed to be on high alert the entire time you're with Superman. They have been reminded to watch for any indication by you that you want them to open fire."

"Good," Lex said.

"Mr. Luthor, are you sure that you don't want to instruct them to wait until you are out of the chamber?"

"No. I'll get clear if I need to. The fact that I'm here means I'm a survivor. Besides, whatever we do will start with dropping the Kryptonite. Once that happens, I suspect that any command to shoot that I might give will be coming from your control booth."

"Of course, Mr. Luthor."

"Good. So, is he awake?"

"He appears to be. But he hasn't really stirred much when you aren't in the room since the first day."

"Then I guess it's time for me to go in and say goodbye."

"Yes, sir. I'll be in the control room. I will personally have my hand on the drop button."

"Fine," Lex said, his attention turning to the door to the chamber. He left Zee behind and headed for the door. It took only a moment to cycle through the airlock-style door and enter the short tunnel that led to the central chamber. Lex stepped right over to the shelf with his spiked gloves. He would take these with him today. They -- caked with Superman's dried blood -- would be the new centerpiece of his trophy case. He would have to come up with a suitable story for Lois, but she would certainly know that they represented his greatest victory.

Once the gloves were in place, he was ready for his final meeting with his guest. In some ways he was going to miss this part, but keeping Superman alive carried an intrinsic risk and Lex was satisfied with the decision to end the hero's life. He turned from the glove shelf and headed for Superman's chair. As had been the case for most of his visits, Superman hadn't bothered to look up.

"Good morning, Superman!" Lex called out loudly and cuffed his enemy across the head.

"Where is Lois?" Superman asked slowly, without raising his head.

"Lois?" he exclaimed. "It appears that I was right in guessing that you care more for the fair Ms. Lane than you like to acknowledge. Does Mr. Kent know how you feel?"

Superman slowly lifted his head. What Lex saw sent a chill through him. This was not the broken man he'd been torturing for the past ten days. Lex started to back away, but before he could take even a single step Superman's right arm ripped free of the restraints as if they were made of butter and he grabbed Lex's left arm. "Where are you holding Mrs. Kent?" Superman asked in a voice colder than any he'd heard before.

"Drop the Kryptonite!" Lex shouted as he used his free arm to reach into his vest. He put his hand on his secret weapon and pulled it out. Lex made sure that his hand was on the correct side, closed his eyes and shoved the device into Superman's face. There was a loud bang and Superman released his grip.

Lex started for the entry tunnel but immediately tripped over one of the chunks of Kryptonite that had dropped from above. As he fell to the floor he twisted to look back. He'd hoped that his flash-bang weapon would have torn Superman's head off. It had been designed to do exactly that. It was a directional charge with a mix of Kryptonite fragments and anti-personnel shrapnel. However, instead of killing Superman, it seemed to have only surprised him for a moment. Lex had managed to get almost to the tunnel when Superman shook off the disorientation from the pocket weapon and started toward him. He would not be defeated by Superman. Not now. Not ever! "Open fire now!" he shouted in a final desperate act.

***

Luthor's pocket-bomb caught Clark completely by surprise. Fortunately, aside from the ringing in his ears, it didn't seem to do any damage. In the instant he'd been distracted by the device, Luthor had escaped his grasp and was nearly to the exit tunnel. It was time to find out if he was going to be able to walk after ten days tied to a chair. Clark ripped one leg free and was just about to start after Luthor when he heard Luthor shout, "Open fire now!"

Instantly he felt a rain of bullets from above. Fortunately, the invulnerability that had returned proved to be more than equal to the task. Bullets and bullet fragments filled the room and the gunfire seemed to go on and on.

The shooting had to have continued for many seconds, but in far less than a minute, the room grew quiet. Clark looked up and used his x-ray vision to look inside the shooter's rooms. The men had dropped their guns and fled.

Clark tore his other leg free. As he stood, there was tingling and pain as his legs moved for the first time in days. Thankfully the discomfort passed quickly as he raced to where Luthor had fallen.

His enemy was still in the same spot that he'd been when he'd called for the gunmen to open fire. Unfortunately, Luthor had not been invulnerable to the hail of bullets than had been ricocheting around the room. His body was riddled with bullet holes and both his breathing and heart had stopped.

Clark would later feel some level of remorse that his only thought in that instant was that he'd lost his best clue to finding Lois. Luthor certainly wasn't going to be providing that information. His enemy and captor was dead, and right now, Clark didn't have it in him to feel any regret.

Now his only concern was finding Lois. Clark put on a burst of super-speed and tore through the airlock door and out of his prison. A quick look around revealed that Clark's chamber stood all alone in a large open space that looked like it might be an old abandoned subway station. The structure of his prison chamber nearly filled the space. Everyone had fled, but Clark could hear the sound of people retreating through what looked to be the only exit from this chamber. He started down the chamber at super speed and within seconds he caught up to the people trying to escape.

He almost grabbed the first person he encountered, but realized that with so many people fleeing, he could kill two birds with one stone. He took flight and zipped along the ceiling of the hallway. This group consisted of about a dozen men. Once he was in front of them he quickly collapsed the hallway to prevent escape. Then, before the group had a chance to react, he reversed his path and flew back down the hallway behind them.

It took only seconds for the men to realize that their escape path had been cut off. As the group turned and tried to retrace their steps, they found themselves face to face with Superman. They were clearly terrified at the prospect of facing the still blood-covered, super-powered escapee. Clark took a moment to compose himself as the men backed away. They seemed to be trying to get as far away from him as possible, given the confined space of the collapsed hallway. "I'm going to collapse the hallway behind me and seal you in," he said, letting all the anger and frustration of the past week show. "Then I'm going to go try to find Mrs. Kent and take her to safety. If any of you help me find her, and also tell me the quickest way out of these tunnels, I'll come back and let you out as soon as she's safe. If none of you provide any help..." He paused to let them consider the consequences of his being annoyed. "Well, I'm already in a very bad mood. Whatever else might happen, I certainly won't have any reason to hurry back." Clark paused to let them consider the implications of what he had and had not said. "So, how do I find her?"

About half of the men looked confused, but the other half started falling all over themselves getting the directions to the door that led to where the women were supposed to be held. Women? Then Clark remembered the voice of the serving woman. In less than a minute, the men had agreed on the directions. Since the first step was to go forward, Clark first turned and collapsed the hallway behind him. Then he took a moment to disarm all the men and crush their guns before crashing through -- and then rebuilding -- the barrier in the front.

Thanks to the detailed directions, it only took a second to find the sliding steel panel that served as the door to Lois's prison. Clark almost burst through the door but realized that it was possible, if unlikely, that Lois might be right on the other side. So he dug into the steel of the door with his fingers and pulled it out into the hall. It was great to have his proper strength back again.

Inside was a very nice luxury apartment. "Lois!" he called out. "Lois Lane?" There was no answer and the lights were dimmed as if it were night.

Clark started to work his way through the apartment when a door flew open and Lois came rushing out. As soon as she saw him she ran to him and threw her arms around him. "You're alive," she whispered. "When you didn't come, I... I was so scared."

"I'm fine. I'll tell you the rest later," he whispered back. "But for now be careful, we're probably under surveillance."

"I know," she answered softly. "But I have to hold you. I feel like I've been losing my mind."

"I need to get you home. Do you know where we are?"

"Is this London?" she asked.

"London? No, we're somewhere under Metropolis."

"Are you Superman?" came a voice from behind.

"Martha, it's all right. This is Superman. He's here to rescue us."

Clark looked at the older woman. As had been the case with Lois, she'd clearly been asleep when he'd broken in. Strange, he'd thought that it was mid-day. "Ma'am, I've just escaped from captivity myself. I'm going to take Mrs. Kent to safety. I'll be back to get you as soon as I can. It shouldn't be more than a minute. I suggest you wait in your room until I can return."

"Yes, sir, Superman," she said before turning and returning to her room.

"Hold on. I'm going to super-speed you home," Clark said to his wife.

As he started to move Lois pulled herself in close. As soon as they had cleared the apartment Lois reminded him why he'd held on through the torture. "I love you, Clark."

***

A week had passed since their escape from Luthor. Clark's sudden and unexpected escape, combined with Luthor's death, meant that the underground complex had been abandoned quickly, and no one had taken the time to clean up behind themselves. It also meant that when Superman returned with the police to clean out the complex, even though the only people captured had been those that Superman had trapped, there remained an easy-to-follow paper and computer trail.

When the police investigators went through the underground complex, they discovered that Luthor had never left Metropolis after Nightfall. The extensive shelter, less than a mile from LexCorp tower, was vast and well stocked. There were enough supplies to last for years, and even though there was no shortage of ways into the complex, all of them were well concealed. Had Luthor chosen not to go after Lois and Superman, he might have lived there for a very long time undetected.

This afternoon, Clark was at the Planet in front of his workstation trying to finish a story. One element of trying to recover from the ordeal of the captivity was attempting to reestablish some of their work routines. For that reason, both he and Lois had returned to work quickly.

His thoughts were interrupted by the feel of a pair of hands on his shoulders that he immediately recognized as Lois's. "Are you ready to go?" she asked as she kissed him lightly on the ear. "Our appointment with Dr. Klein is in ten minutes."

He leaned back to enjoy the feel of her skin against his. Even before they'd been Luthor's prisoners, they had always enjoyed each other's touch. But in the time since they'd escaped, neither on them wanted to go more than a few minutes -- or an hour at most -- without the feel of the other's flesh against theirs. He turned to his wife and collected a quick -- but not too quick -- kiss before answering. "I'm almost done. Give me a minute and I'll meet you by the stairwell."

"Okay, but don't take too long," she said with a smile, then, after one more lingering kiss, she started for the elevators.

She was so beautiful when she smiled at him. As he turned back to his workstation, his thoughts went back to how thankful he was that she was still smiling at him. They had both been appalled that Lois had been subjected to a personality-altering experiment. Notes on Mendenhall and his research were in Luthor's computer. Even more, the entire plan to attempt to alter Lois's personality was also right there. Fortunately, whatever success Luthor and Mendenhall thought they were achieving, didn't seem to stick.

"Clark!" came a somewhat impatient call from Lois, now standing beside the elevator, to remind him that he was taking too long. At that he simply made sure that his workstation was locked and started her way.

"You looked like you lost track of what you were doing," she commented when he reached her.

"I did a little," he admitted as he reached for her hand. "We're going to be reviewing our cases with Bernie. When I think about Luthor -- reprogramming you... well, it just scares me."

"Me too," she replied quietly, giving his had a reassuring squeeze. "But we need to go."

They took the elevator to the ground floor then ducked out of sight. An instant later they were at the same door that Clark had used to go in and out of STAR Labs during the Nightfall Swarm crisis. They waited less than a minute before the door opened to reveal Bernie on the other side. "Sorry I'm late," he said. "I wanted to make sure that we could get to my office without being seen."

After they entered the building, Bernie closed the door and they proceeded to his office in silence. Repeated visits by the Lane and Kent reporting team had motivated Bernie to request additional visitor seating for his office. That request had been addressed and his office now sported a small loveseat. Lois and Clark took the loveseat as Bernie went around to the other side of his desk. He hadn't quite sat down when Lois started, "You said on the phone that you have some new information relating to the time we were held captive."

"I do. I believe that I finally have a comprehensive understanding of what Luthor was trying to do to you."

"Did Lois suffer any permanent effects from the conditioning?" Clark burst out.

Bernie's face turned serious. "No. As you know, I passed all the information about Mendenhall's plan to several very capable colleagues who are specialists in behavior modification. I'm happy to report that they all reached the same conclusion. Mendenhall's techniques would look very promising under extremely controlled conditions, but they would not have resulted in the kind of reforming of your personality that he and Luthor were attempting. People's minds simply don't work that way."

"But the way I was acting!" Lois exclaimed.

Before Bernie had the chance to reply, Clark put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him.

"You were reacting to being bombarded with Mendenhall's personality-altering program," Bernie said. "Furthermore, you were under stress, and in an environment deliberately designed to disrupt your body's natural process. The result was that you were especially open to suggestion."

"How is this sort of thing possible?" Clark asked. "Was Mendenhall really that far ahead of everyone else?"

"Behavior modification, in various forms, has been around for a long time," Bernie answered. "Some of his techniques were novel and new, but they simply don't achieve any long-term effect on a person's core personality. The behavior scientists that I had review the information, have assured me that the thoughts and feelings you were experiencing were all very surface-level behaviors. Mendenhall's techniques were incredibly effective at short term manipulations, and those results can be very striking. But long term behavior modification is a completely different sort of problem."

"That makes me feel a little better, but I have to admit to being confused," Lois said. "Before he rescued me I was... I was feeling abandoned by Clark. I remember being angry."

"That's what the program was designed to make you feel," Bernie agreed.

"But that's my point," Lois interjected. "If the short term effects were so powerful, and based on how I was acting I believe that they were, they why didn't I stay mad at Clark?"

Bernie laughed softly. "That was one element that confused the behavior specialists that I had review your case. They believed that, based on the information they had about the program, your relationship with Clark should have been strained for at least several days after your rescue."

"But that didn't happen at all," she said, as she gave Clark's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm sure it didn't," Bernie said in an almost cryptic tone. "I think I know why, but I can't check my idea with my experts."

"What do you mean?" Clark asked.

"Clark, when you rescued Lois, how were you dressed?"

"I was in the Superman suit," he said. "You know that there wasn't time to change. Besides, it wouldn't have been smart to rescue her as Clark."

"Of course. But that's the point." Bernie turned to Lois. "The entire program for driving a wedge between the two of you was designed around what Luthor knew of Clark. But Lois, you aren't just married to Clark, you're also married to Superman. The program was designed to work on your feelings for only half of your husband. You should have been experiencing negative feelings about the 'Clark' side of his personality, but I suspect you weren't thinking much about his 'Superman' side at all."

"That's right," Lois said. "After the first day or so, I remember being angry with Clark and upset because I was sure he'd gone back to Kansas. I was having all kinds of thoughts about him leaving me to go back to live on a farm. I barely thought of Clark as Superman at all."

"Exactly," Bernie agreed. "The program left a huge part of your understanding of Clark untouched. Then, the first time you did see him, he was dressed in his alternate identity. I believe that made it possible for you to throw off the program immediately."

"So what would have happened if... if Clark hadn't been able to rescue me and the process would have run its course?" Lois asked.

Bernie hesitated before answering. "Based on the information we have, I fear that had you stayed in that apartment and you had continued to be subjected to the conditioning for two or more months as planned... well, I'm afraid that when Luthor would have appeared, your reaction would almost certainly have been to, um, well, you would probably have been very... um, welcoming."

"No!" Lois cried.

"I'm afraid so," Bernie said defensively. "The only reason for doubt is the Clark/Superman factor. Maybe that would have been enough, but there's no way to be sure."

"So the programming would have worked," Lois said dejectedly.

"It looks likely, but it would be only for the short term," Bernie reassured her. "Once you were out of that environment, the programming would likely have remained in effect for from a week or two up to as long as a few months."

"That would be way more than too much," Lois said, as she leaned even closer to Clark for comfort.

"I understand," Bernie replied. "But the program was very sophisticated. The good news is that the program wasn't capable of achieving any long-term effects. You would have eventually thrown off the conditioning. Consider this, how do you think you would normally react to Luthor and the idea that he rescued you from captivity?"

"I'd know that he was behind it all," she said with certainty. "I might go along with him to play for time, but I would never believe that he was anything but my enemy."

"Then that's what would have happened over the long term. Any significant change in the environment would cause you to eventually throw off the effects of the subliminals and return to your normal mode of thinking."

"So I wouldn't have ended up permanently as Lex's adoring wife?" Lois asked hopefully.

"No. That element was right there in Mendenhall's notes if you knew what to look for. I think Mendenhall was searching for a way to get past the long-term barrier. My friends who know this subject say that without of some kind of real breakthrough, long term personality changes were not going to take hold. And there's no sign that Mendenhall had achieved that breakthrough."

"So you think he was deceiving Luthor the whole time?" Clark asked.

"I have to believe so. As I said, it was all there in his notes. However, unless you are trained in the field of psychology and behavior science, it would be nearly impossible to see the problems in what he was trying to achieve. I reviewed the notes myself and thought Mendenhall was onto something. It wasn't until one of my associates explained the problems to me and showed me how to properly interpret the data, that I realized the magnitude of the problem."

"So did Mendenhall have some kind of death wish?" Lois asked. "Lex would have killed him once I'd rejected his advances."

"I think part of it was wishful thinking on his part. I've spoken to people that know him. He really believed in what he was trying to do. I suspect he was lying to himself as much as he was lying to Luthor."

"Well, I'm glad," Lois said. "I can't image life as Lex's adoring wife. Especially considering what he was trying to do to Clark."

"So have you figured out why that part didn't work?" Clark asked. "Why I'm not... dead?"

"Now your situation was especially interesting," Bernie said, smiling. "But you know that we got the first clue right away."

"You mean when your Kryptonite needle didn't work on me either?" Clark clarified.

"Exactly. That Kryptonite had allowed me to draw some of your blood before, but now, the same piece doesn't affect you at all. If not for your ability to burn a small hole in your skin with your heat vision, I'm not sure we could have drawn blood."

"So what did you find?" Lois asked.

"The key to the puzzle was when we measured your powers. Based on the tests we did the day after you escaped, your abilities are -- to the accuracy we can measure -- exactly two-thirds of what they were before your first Nightfall mission."

"What's special about two-thirds?"

"At first I wasn't sure. But fortunately I had some of your blood stored from before Luthor captured you. When I analyzed the blood carefully, I found that in the original sample there were three distinct blood groups, let's call them G, R and X. Two of the groups, R and X, comprised nearly eighty percent of your blood and the G group was just over twenty percent. When I analyzed the new sample, the third group was gone and the balance was fifty-fifty for the R and X groups."

"The exposure to Kryptonite killed off the G group," Clark said.

"Exactly. I took a small portion of your original sample and exposed it to Kryptonite. The blood cells in the G group started dying."

"So what does it mean?" Lois asked.

"I believe that the three groups represent three varieties of the cells that give you your powers. Since all of your powers are present, only weakened, I suspect that they all contribute equally to your abilities. It seems clear that the G cells were sensitive to the Kryptonite. When you've been exposed in the past, the reaction of the G cells sends your system into shock. It's why your powers disappear and why you feel pain. Exposure to Kryptonite kills off the G cells. However, since they're gone now, there's nothing in your system to react to the Kryptonite."

Clark shook his head, "I was sure that Kryptonite would kill me."

"It almost did," Bernie added seriously. "The only reason you're alive is that you were subjected to an almost perfect set of conditions to survive."

"Could you explain that?" Lois asked.

"In the original Nightfall mission, Clark was exposed to the Kryptonite gas. It got into his bloodstream and nearly killed him. Fortunately, there wasn't quite enough to do that, but the overall effect was to substantially change the G, R and X balance in his system. We didn't know it, but you were on your way to becoming immune to Kryptonite."

"But I wasn't immune," Clark cut in. "It really hurt when I first went into that chamber."

"Yes, because you still had a lot of the type-G cells in your system. If Luthor would have tried to kill you with Kryptonite when he first captured you, it might have been possible. There was enough of the sensitive element in your system that it might have killed you from the shock."

"But he didn't try," Clark said, "He kept the dose very low so that he could torture me."

"And in so doing, he purged your system of the remaining G elements just slowly enough to leave you in pain but not kill you. And by keeping the exposure continuous, no G elements were able to regenerate."

"So thanks to Luthor, I'm immune to Kryptonite."

"You are for now. And maybe forever. We should check periodically to see if the G elements reappear."

"What would have happened if Lex just would have left Clark and me alone?" Lois asked.

"I believe that over time the G elements would have regenerated and restored the three-way balance. You would be back to full power, but you would be as sensitive as ever to Kryptonite. And, based on your reactions to the dosages that we know about, I suspect that in your original condition where all three elements were in balance, an intense exposure to Kryptonite would probably have killed you."

"What about those other varieties," Lois asked. "Does the fact that there are the R and X groups mean that there could be other kinds of Kryptonite."

"Has all the Kryptonite you've seen looked the same?" Bernie asked.

"Yes. I've only seen the green crystal."

"Green!" Lois shouted. "That's why you called that the G element."

"Exactly," Bernie confirmed. "Well, there is another type of meteor rock that Luthor found. There were a few crystals that we believe are Kryptonite but are red instead of green. I ran some tests and confirmed that the red crystal affected one of the components. That is the one that I have been calling the R component. It was interesting though, that your blood didn't seem to react to the red nearly as violently as it reacted to the green. I suspect that the red will have a very different effect and may not even cause you any pain."

"So I'm not out of the woods," Clark sighed.

"I don't know," Bernie said. "The radiation from the red is different in ways other than the color."

"What about the X?" Lois asked. "Does that mean there is another version of Kryptonite that we need to worry about?"

Bernie shrugged. "I just don't know. It could be that one-third -- I guess we should say one-half now -- of your cells have no susceptibility at all. Or maybe you're correct and there is another kind of Kryptonite out there. Right now I just don't know."

"So what do you suggest that I do?" Clark asked.

"That's up to you. If you'll agree, I think it would be a good idea for you to come in periodically so I can chart your recovery. In the meantime, I'd suggest that you get back to your lives. The two of you have had a very busy year."

"Bernie, did you see the police report on Luthor's Kryptonite prison?" Clark asked.

"You mean that concrete structure where you were held captive?"

"Yes," Clark confirmed.

"More than that," Bernie said. "I was part of the team that decommissioned it."

"So you know that there was a lot of Kryptonite missing?"

"Sure. It looked like some of Luthor's people came back and collected it off the floor before the police were able to secure the area. There were also some pieces missing from the walls."

"What do you think I should do?" Clark asked.

"I don't understand," Bernie said.

"I'm sure that I'll be seeing it pop up in criminal hands. What should I do when someone uses one against me?"

"Well, try not to laugh too hard. And after you're done, I'd like to have them for my studies. Finally, if nothing else, some of them are really beautiful crystals. If the radiation really does prove to be harmless to you and humans, it might make some attractive jewelry."

***

They had just finished the dinner dishes when Clark heard the knock on the door. At the sound, Lois had jerked in fright and grabbed for his hand. The fear on her face -- a look that he'd become all too familiar with this past week -- was like an icicle through his heart. It pained him that she was still so afraid. But the reality was that they both were.

Clark glanced quickly through the door. "It's okay," Clark said as he pulled her into a hug. "It's just them."

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice very fragile, as she pulled herself even closer to him. "I hate being so scared."

"We'll get through this," he said softy. "You know what the therapist said. As long as we support each other, and we're honest and open when we get scared, we will beat these fears. For now, we just have to take one day at a time."

Lois looked up at him, a hint of tears in her eyes. "I just wish the nightmares would stop. For both of us."

"Me too," Clark agreed. "But until we are past all this, Superman stays off night duty. I promise you'll never wake up alone."

The knock at the door repeated. "Should I tell them that we need to do this another night?" he asked.

"No," she said, her voice suddenly strong with the Lois Lane spirit. "We can be afraid, but we can't live afraid." Then she started for the door. By the time she reached the door, all signs of the fearful woman were gone. She opened the door and said, "Sorry for the delay," she said. "We were just finishing the dinner dishes."

"That's fine," Martha said. "May we come in?"

"Sure," Lois answered. She opened the door wide and let Clark's parents and Perry into their home.

"Thanks for stopping by," Clark said as everyone came in. "Would anyone like anything before we start?"

Clark's parents just shook their heads while Perry answered, "No, thanks. We didn't plan to stay long. Did you have much to talk about tonight? Based on your message, I got the impression this was going to be quick."

"It will be," Lois answered. "We only had a few things we wanted to go over."

After they were all seated in the small living area, Clark began by turning to Perry. "Perry, this is mostly about you. Now that you know the secret of my identity, Lois and I were thinking that we'd like to talk about some things."

"You know you can trust me," Perry offered.

"Of course, but we -- Lois and I -- clearly weren't being careful enough about my secret. We'd like your help in not making the same mistake again."

"Well, I don't think it would have been so obvious to anyone else," Perry said. "There were a lot of little things that I suspect only I saw."

"What would you say is the main thing that Clark needs to do better?" Lois asked.

"He needs to stay away from you," Perry said to Lois.

"What?" Lois and Clark said together.

"I mean when you're dressed as Superman," Perry clarified to Clark. "Son, when you found out that Lois had been kidnapped, and you had to get Superman's help to get her safe, you were as transparent as glass. You talked about getting Superman to help, but it was easy to see that of all the things that were worrying you that day, finding Superman and convincing him to cooperate was the least of your concerns."

"Perry, do you think anyone else at the Planet suspects?" Jonathan asked.

"I don't think so," he answered. "As soon as you and Martha told me that Superman had hidden Clark in a remote location, I made sure that the Planet staff thought it was my idea. I believe that having them think I was the force behind Clark's disappearance, kept them off the trail. I was watching carefully the whole time Clark was missing, and I don't think anyone else caught on."

"But even if that worked, we need to be more careful. What should we do?" Lois asked.

"First off, no more Superman stories for you," Perry answered. "Even if the story comes to you, you'll need to find a way to pass it to someone else. And as for you," he said looking at Clark." You need to work harder at establishing a city other than Metropolis as your base."

"We'd already planned to do that," Clark agreed. "We just hadn't gotten around to it yet."

"Well, son, pick a city and do it. The bad guys know that Lois was the bait that trapped you once, and that will certainly prompt someone to think about doing it again. The sooner you establish that you're based in another city, the better the chance that no one will try to grab her."

"Anyone who tries to grab Lois is going to have a very bad day," Clark said coldly.

Clark's tone left the room silent for a moment. Perry finally broke the ice. "I understand, but you can't be with her every minute for the rest of your lives. So you can't waste any time in establishing another city as Superman's new home. Have you picked a city?"

"Not yet. We were talking about New York. But we were wondering if Los Angeles would be a better choice," Clark said. "Back to what you said a moment ago, I want Superman as far from Lois as he can get. If it wasn't for the time problem, I'd suggest Australia. I've heard good things about both Sydney and Melbourne."

"Son, I don't know. I don't think it would feel right for Superman to leave the United States," Jonathan said.

"You're probably right. But we don't need to decide that tonight," Clark replied.

"But you will need to do more than just move Superman to a different city," Perry continued. "I've given this some thought and I think there needs to be a public break up between Lois Lane and Superman. Anything less than that and even if Superman leaves Metropolis, people will figure you did it to protect Lois."

"I don't like it, but I think I understand," Lois said. "What do you think we should do?"

"I don't know," Perry answered. "Lois, either you or Superman is going to have to be the bad guy for this. Either Superman has to be unfeeling of your situation or you need to be angry at the fact that your association with him placed you in danger."

"It has to be me," Lois said immediately. "Superman has to be above such things. I can go all bitchy about being held captive and swear that I regret ever hearing of Superman. I can even talk about the possibility of suing Superman for having put me at risk."

"Wouldn't that be more trouble than it's worth?" Martha asked.

"Sure," Lois replied quickly. "I won't really do it, but the fact that I mention it as a possibility will be enough. Then, when I stop writing any Superman stories, it should be clear to everyone that any affection Lois Lane had for Superman is long gone."

"It will be hard, but I think that is what you are going to have to do," Perry said. "So what else did you want to talk about tonight?"

"We want to offer a story about Superman, and talk about how you'd like to handle it."

"What story?" Perry asked.

"The story that Superman is now immune to Kryptonite."

"What?" Martha burst out.

"Dr. Klein told us that today," Clark provided. "That's how I survived his death chamber." He turned to his editor. "There are still people who worked in that chamber that haven't been caught yet, and not all the Kryptonite has been accounted for. Anyone who doesn't know how it ended, is probably going to try something. I -- we -- want them to have to worry about the fact that they can't count on Kryptonite to protect them."

Perry was quiet for a moment. "I can see it," he said finally. "If we do it right, it could be a great story. You already said that you wanted to do an in-depth account of your captivity. Is Superman ready to give that interview now?"

"Yes. We just need to find someone to write it."

"I'll write it," Perry offered. "I can see it now. Superman searching for the wife of his friend when he gets captured with Kryptonite. It will be great, and I'm sure we can frame the story to set up Lois's public break with Superman." He turned to Lois. "Is that all right with you, Darlin'?"

"Yes. Right now, I think that's a great idea," Lois agreed.

"We can start on it tomorrow," Perry said. "Think about what city you want to use as your new base. The article would be a good avenue for that announcement."

"We'll do that," Clark said. "And Perry?"

"Yes?" Perry responded.

"Welcome to the ranks of Superman's advisors," Clark said as he offered the older man his hand.

THE END

The following story –

“Aftershocks”

by – Mouserocks

was Nominated in the:

Best Super Sort Story

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Aftershocks

By Mouserocks <mouserocksnerd@gmail.com>

Rated PG

Submitted April 2013

Summary: For April Comedy Challenge/April Fools Challenge. Lois is determined to prank Clark somehow, but he keeps managing to evade her clutches...

***

It was a relatively slow day in the Daily Planet bullpen. News was slow, everyone was fairly mellow, and Lois was wondering why the hell nobody was doing anything. It was April first! Didn't they know what that meant?

She snuck a glance over at her partner's desk and found it empty, per usual. She huffed a sigh. Of course he would be out hunting down some stupid puff piece Perry gave him on a fine spring day like today, not planning pranks against people. Clark Kent was far too responsible for that.

Lois, on the other hand, was full to the brim with ideas for how to get her partner. He was too easy, she'd have to be a fool not try something. The trouble was narrowing down the playing field...

Well, while he was out, she might as well put good use to her time. Lois snuck over to his desk and sat in his chair. She frowned and lowered the seat so her feet could touch the floor. A smile lit up her face. She didn't know how long he'd be out for, so she just decided to do something quick, and started moving the things on his desk an inch or so to the left. Clark, the neat freak, would obviously notice something was up.

Snickering, she hurriedly made her way back to her own desk. Just in time, too, for the elevators dinged and Clark walked back in less than three minutes later. At first when he sat down, a frown of puzzlement crossed his face. Lois watched excitedly out of the corner of her eye for his reaction.

Suddenly a look of recognition flashed across his features and he started moving things back to where they were previously on his desk, almost exactly.

Lois felt disappointment strike at her heart, and her mouth open in annoyed surprise. She hadn't expected him to figure it out so quickly. With an arched eyebrow, Clark's gaze suddenly shot up to meet hers. Flustered, Lois turned quickly back to her own computer screen. She could sense his amusement, and it irked her beyond belief. She wasn't going to give up that easily. Oh, no. Clark had no idea what he had just gotten himself into. Now she was hell bent on pranking Clark Kent.

The war had begun.

***

Lois couldn't believe it. It had been a week since April Fools, and every prank she'd tried on Clark Kent in the last week had backfired in some way or another. And she had been fairly evil, too. She super glued a pen cap closed and asked him to get it off for her, which he did without a problem. Then she decided to test out the super glue again, on his desk drawers, thinking perhaps the glue itself was the problem. He got those drawers open just fine, too, only looking curiously at the dried glue on the edges. With a huff, Lois switched tracks. She put plastic wrap on the toilets in the men's room, since he always seemed to rush off there, and only ended up getting an earful from Perry. She froze a can of shaving cream, slit a hole in the side and stuffed it in his desk drawer -- somehow he noticed it right as it started to expand and stopped it. She removed screws and hinges, unplugged machines, rigged water systems -- the works. Nothing was working on Clark Kent. The man was one step ahead of her every move. It was like he could sense her plotting against him and was reading her mind or something.

This time she was extremely cautious, though. She got the highest grade super glue available, courtesy of one Dr. Bernard Klein (she really did owe him one), and planned everything to a tee. Nothing had been left out.

So when she invited Clark over to her place for dinner and a movie that evening, there was no chance of anything going wrong. None whatsoever. She smiled, invited him in, had him take a seat at her kitchen table, and waited for the magic to happen. She forced him to stay seated while she prepared dinner (and yes, she caught all of his apprehensive glances as he watched her pour things into pots haphazardly). Then, right when he went to stand and take their dishes to the sink after dinner, it happened.

*Rrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiippp!*

Clark froze and Lois busted up laughing at the sound. She hadn't meant for it to rip his pants, but the look of sheer horror on his face was just the icing on the cake. Clark flushed bright red.

"Lois! Look what you did! You couldn't just give up, could you? It's not even April Fools anymore!"

"Um... It's an aftershock. It would have happened on April Fools if you hadn't been so stupid and smart. Now it's an April Fools Aftershock."

Clark groaned. "Just... I can't believe you! Just -- Look!"

Lois couldn't find it in her to be ashamed and instead openly leered at the gaping hole in his backside... which was covered in...

Her laughter died down as she tried to rationalize it in her head. Clark, in red briefs, with an edge of bright blue showing through on the sides. And that firm backside... She could be wrong, since it was usually covered by a cape, and it would mean a whole lot of other things with regards to Clark's lying to her, but the only explanation she could come up with was "Superman?"

Clark's posture stiffened involuntarily. *Crap.* He had forgotten to take off the suit before coming over; he had just been so excited that Lois had invited him over for something non-work related he had run over as fast as he could. Now it was coming back to bite him in the briefs.

Slowly he turned around to face her. Her expression was one of shock and confusion. He sighed. "Look, Lois, I can --"

"You mean to tell me that you really wear the tights? Underneath all that?"

Clark was surprised that she seemed to be taking this so well. "Well, um, sometimes." He cleared his throat nervously. "You're not mad?"

"We'll get to that. I mean, I am, but I kind of see why you didn't tell me."

"I really have wanted to tell you for a long time, but there never seemed to be the right moment, and we've been getting closer but nothing's been official and I didn't want to mess that up with something like this, and then what if you didn't accept me for who I am, and --"

"Clark."

"Yeah?"

"You're babbling. Let me do the talking."

He swallowed audibly. "Okay. Ask me anything you want to know."

Lois appeared to think for a moment before finally settling on the right question. "Okay. I've mainly got one important question."

"Shoot."

She grinned impishly. "Can you wear the briefs separately?"

Clark groaned.

THE END

The following story –

“Aurora Borealis – The Complete Story”

by – KenJ

was Nominated in the:

Best Mid-length Story

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Aurora Borealis – The Complete Story

Description

Lois and Clark have just been married and are preparing to leave on their honeymoon when they are interrupted and Lois is kidnapped. Who took her and where is a mystery that needs to be solved.

Aurora Borealis – The Complete Story

Submitted March 5, 2013

By Ken Janney

This story is rated PG-13.

Comments are always welcomed at ken.janney@kjanney.com

Disclaimers: The characters in this story are property of DC, December 3rd productions and Warner Bros. No Copyright infringement is intended. I have just borrowed the characters for a short time.

This story originated with a single scene that I had written as a suggested plot device for another author. It was rejected in favor of another one. I still liked the idea so I wrote a story around it. This is only loosely related to my Matchmaker series.

I wish to thank Artemis and Morgana for the beta on this.

< > denotes thoughts

* * denotes emphasis

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 1

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The place is Centennial Park in Metropolis and the time is the mid 2400’s.

There is an individual sitting on a park bench as numerous people some of them couples are passing by. On his face is a sour expression as the couples holding hands, obviously very much in love, walk by and children on skates, hoverboards or simply running and playing nearby, shout with glee.

Looking over in the direction of the quad there were even families picnicking on blankets on the grass. As he watched he saw a child scream in delight as she found a four leaf clover and plucked it to show to her less fortunate siblings. Then to his surprise the child’s siblings, all five of them, found four leaf clovers of their own in the same patch. In a disgusted tone he muttered to himself, “I bet there aren’t even any ants.” It was an annoyingly pleasant scene.

There was the occasional Peacekeeper, but usually all they did was stroll around, smiling and greeting those they passed. In this society there was little need of the Peacekeepers, what used to be called police, because in this society war and crimes of all kinds had virtually ceased to exist; the super family had seen to that.

It was an idyllic scene. The park was perfectly maintained and the grass almost looked manicured it was so perfect. There wasn’t even a single piece of litter on the ground. A few minutes ago he had seen a child miss the litter basket with a candy wrapper, but before he had even had time to smile the child had realized what he had done and turned to pick it up and properly place it in the receptacle. All of this … this … utopian existence … grated on the sensibilities of the person on the bench.

Wearing glasses partly as a disguise even though they had really not only gone out of style, but with advanced surgical techniques to correct faulty vision, had been rendered worse than useless, Tempus fumed over the current state of the world. He had recently managed, through the use of a simulacrum to escape from his prison, a hospital for the criminally insane, and ‘acquired’ a time window device.

While sitting on the bench he was racking his brain for a new plan to prevent Utopia.

Whatever he came up with, it just had to have an element of irony. God how he loved irony! The more ironic it was the better as far as he was concerned.

As he was pondering he wondered, just what was the *key* event in the creation of Utopia? Suddenly it hit him, almost like a physical blow, of course, the *product* of the union of Lois Lane and Clark Kent! He had to disrupt that union. In the past he had tried to kill Clark Kent as a baby and had been foiled by Lois Lane and his old nemesis, Herb. He had tried trapping Superman in time. Again he had been rescued by Lois Lane and … Herb. He had had a modicum of revenge, albeit short lived when he had abducted Lois from Prime, as Herb had dubbed it, and used her to create Superman in that alternate universe so that he could expose Clark Kent for the alien that he is. That time not only had Lois and Herb interfered but his idiot underlings had let him down.

This time whatever he did, he needed to remove any possibility of Lois Lane interfering. That meant that she had to be totally removed, but in order for Herb not to be alerted to the problem she had to still remain in that universe. Ah, but when? That was the question. What if she was there, but …

That led to the thought, what if he allowed the union, but prevented the consummation of that union. That would eliminate the possibility of offspring and therefore Utopia. How ironic it would be if …

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It had been a lovely and intimate ceremony. Their closest friends and their families had been there and Mike had officiated. After the ceremony they had returned to Metropolis and now they were back home, well, they were now in what used to be Clark’s apartment. Just as they were finishing their preparations for their honeymoon, they had been interrupted by Herb. Of all things, there had been a curse put on them and if they consummated their union Lois would die from a mysterious illness.

Herb had taken them on a tour of their previous lives and they had succeeded in defeating the curse and returning the timeline to where it needed to be.

Now, they were back in Clark’s, no their, apartment and it was time to follow through on what they had waited so long to do, consummate their marriage.

Lois was still in her orange dress laying on the bed kissing with her new husband, who was still in his Superman Suit. They were making out when she made up her mind. It really hadn’t taken too much thought for her to make this decision. Her juices were flowing and she could feel his growing excitement as he lay with her, so she decided that there was no way she was going to wait until they were in Hawaii. It was abundantly obvious that he wanted her, that she wanted him and she wanted him *NOW*.

She extricated herself from his arms and said in an alluring tone, “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” After standing she scurried into the living room, picked up the small bag that had her black teddy in it and then she scampered back through the bedroom, bag in hand, and headed for the bathroom. It was time to set the mood, she just hoped that she would have the self-control she would need to actually get dressed and not just run out of the bathroom naked, rip the Suit off of him and jump his bones.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Entering the bathroom she closed the door. As she kicked her shoes off and set the bag down, unnoticed, a time window opened behind her. She was only able to release a brief yelp of surprise as Tempus grabbed her from behind and pulled her through the window. She didn’t know it, but the window was closed before Clark could respond.

Not knowing just what had happened and only knowing that she had been grabbed, immediately she started struggling with her assailant and shouting for Clark, “Clark! Help! Clark!” Forgetting that she had kicked off her shoes she tried stomping down on his instep, to no avail. She tried to turn in his grasp so that she could get in a proper blow, but the way he was holding her prevented her from doing that. Undaunted she continued her struggles, calling out for Clark all the while. <Where is he?> She couldn’t understand why he didn’t respond and rescue her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Clark was enjoying the fact that he was able to kiss his new bride without concern as to how far things might go. All the stops had been removed. Now they could be one, emotionally and physically.

He had been lying with Lois and his body had been responding to the intimate contact as they had been kissing. He thought to himself, <If we keep this up I may not want to wait until we get to Hawaii. I wonder if she feels the same way. There really is no reason to wait; after all, it’s just another room in another state where we would be doing the same thing. It is what we do in the room that matters, not where the room is located.>

As he had finished thinking this Lois had broken their kiss and wiggled out of his arms. He was disappointed, but let her go just the same.

She stood next to the bed and he heard her say, “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

He watched as she scampered into the living room and then back through the bedroom to the bathroom. He thought, <Oh well, if you gotta go, you gotta go. Wait a minute, didn’t she take a bag in with her?> He was tempted to use his x-ray vision to see just what she was doing, but decided that he didn’t need to start their married life by breaching her privacy, so he resisted the temptation. Undoubtedly she hadn’t chosen this minute to take a cold shower, after all getting all hot and bothered and then satisfying those urges together was what a honeymoon was all about. He would just wait patiently and see what happened. He lay back on the bed to relax while he waited.

Suddenly he heard her yelp of surprise and then there was nothing but silence. Her heartbeat had disappeared.

At superspeed he crossed the floor to the bathroom and when he opened the door all that was there was her bag. He shouted, “Lois!” and the profound anguish in his voice was plain. He collapsed to the floor on his knees, overcome by his grief and loss.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It took several minutes for Clark to get himself together and start thinking coherently.

The first question that needed to be answered was why had Lois been kidnapped? The disturbing part of the answer to that question had to be that whoever it was knew his secret identity. That might narrow the field somewhat. Who knew his secret? That should be a rather short list.

Mom and Dad, rule them out.

Jason Mazik – he wouldn’t have the means.

The New Kryptonians, they would possibly have the means but what would be their motive?

Herb, he had the means. That new device moved them through time and it didn’t require his time sled to do it. He had always tried to help them and bring them together. Rule him out.

Thinking about Herb brought to mind – Tempus. Tempus had the motivation and if he had a device similar to the new one that Herb had used he might just have the means. Okay, so far the only one with motive and possibly the means that knew his secret was Tempus. That made him candidate number one.

What had actually happened? First, Lois had gone into the bathroom, presumably to change clothes for their trip. He stopped right there and thought some more. No, wait, wasn’t that the bag with … Another wave of anguish washed over him at the thought of what she had been planning to put on. When he could think again he resumed his list. Second, no sooner had she closed the door than with his superhearing he had heard her surprised exclamation. Third, her heartbeat had disappeared.

There was only one possible explanation for losing her heartbeat. Somehow, she had been transported far enough away that he couldn’t hear it any longer. How could that have happened and how could it have happened so quickly?

The New Kryptonians had a rudimentary teleportation system like they had on Star Trek, but did it work that quickly? Why would the New Kryptonians kidnap Lois? Did they want him to go to New Krypton again? That seemed unlikely. They wouldn’t need to kidnap Lois. All they would need to do was make the request. He would have insisted that Lois accompany them anyhow, so that basically ruled out the New Kryptonians, that is, unless another faction similar to Nor’s group wanted to actually prevent his interference. This seemed a highly unlikely scenario.

Let’s rule that out for the time being. What else was there? What clues were there? How had it actually been done?

Had this enemy of theirs been in the bathroom waiting for her?

No, that was illogical. First, they would have had to have had no heartbeat of their own because he would have heard it. That could mean a robot of some sort. He concentrated on his memory of the moment. He played it back in his eidetic memory like a videotape in slowmo mode. He had heard the door close and then there was the sound of her bag hitting the floor. Then her surprised yelp. No, wait a second. Go back. There was the sound of her bag hitting the floor and then suddenly there *was* a second heartbeat. It was rapid but he only heard a total of four beats. Two before Lois’ yelp, two after and then silence. Someone materialized in the bathroom with Lois and took her away. She wasn’t just snatched away by some sort of transporter beam. There had been human intervention. Someone or some ones had physically grabbed her and pulled her into, something and took her somewhere. No, not some ones, someone. There had only been one other heartbeat.

That ruled out a robot.

Then the full reality hit him like a crushing blow. If it *was* Tempus it could be anywhere *and* any *when*! With the ability to travel through time he could have taken her anytime from the prehistoric past where she could be eaten by a dinosaur to the far distant future of a dead world devoid of humanity.

What other possibilities were there? None.

It all came back to … Tempus?!?!?!?!?! But, how could it be him? Wasn’t he incarcerated? They had left him in jail in the distant past. Didn’t he have that bulky time sled that he had to use? That would seem to rule out Tempus. But, if he had acquired a device similar to the new one Herb had used it could be possible.

Okay, if not Tempus, then who?

Lacking any logical candidates from the past it could be some new enemy. If he didn’t hear something, if no new enemy showed up that only left one possibility …Tempus.

First thing to do would be to scour the city; a daunting task in itself, but the logical starting point. He would have to use all of his powers, sight, hearing, smell to try to locate her. Realizing just how big a job this was going to be he now knew that he was going to need help and a lot of it. There was no time to lose.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 2

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He exited the apartment at superspeed and started combing the city, moving in an ever expanding circle with the apartment as the center. Once he actually got into the search he realized that he would have to slow down because if he didn’t he was liable to miss something.

As he flew he used his x-ray vision to examine every closed space. As he proceeded on this course he quickly realized, as first one then another and another room showed him couples together eating, cuddling, arguing and embarrassingly in intimate contact, that in his attempt to find Lois he would actually be having to breach the privacy of untold numbers of citizens. He had to steel himself to the effort. He thought to himself that locating Lois was more important than that petty concern. Suddenly he stopped in mid flight and came to a hover. Just what was he doing? Why was it that he would just toss his ethics aside when it was Lois that was missing? What would Lois think of him if he did that? His ethics were a big part of what made him Superman and to just throw them away because one person, even if it *was* Lois, was missing would compromise him. He would have to be selective of where he looked.

There were some underground facilities that he couldn’t see into because of lead shielding and also some areas that still had lead based paint. These, for the most part were old air raid shelters and older commercial enterprises or apartment houses. They would be the most likely since the person that did this must know his secret so they would also know his weaknesses. He would need police assistance to examine these.

It was still afternoon so he swung by the Planet. As he flew in through the large windows he spotted Jimmy at his desk. As he landed next to him he noted that Jimmy was concentrating on what was on his monitor and didn’t realize that he was there. Quietly he said, “Jimmy?”

Surprised, Jimmy looked up at him. Seeing just who it was he quickly switched gears from the research he had been doing and jumping to his feet asked, “Superman! What can I do for you?”

Superman folded his arms across his chest and said, “Clark has told me many times just how good a researcher you are. I’d like to ask if you could do something for me.”

“Sure Superman! Anything you want. I’ll help anyway I can.”

“Thanks Jimmy, I appreciate it. I need a city plan with all of the lead lined fallout shelters indicated.”

Jimmy’s eagerness to help the superhero was obvious as he said, “Sure Superman. How soon do you need it?”

With a sardonic smile Superman said, “Ten minutes ago.”

“Wow, that quick, huh?” He sat back down at his desk and brought up his computer in a new search routine. “Let me see what I can find. Just give me a few minutes.” He said that as he worked. A few minutes later a printer started spitting out page after page of a composite map of the city. It was broken down by quadrants. When Superman saw this he said, "Thanks, Jimmy! Breaking it down like that will be a big help."

With a satisfied smile he replied "I tried to anticipate what you needed. What's the project?"

Not wishing to reveal too much just yet he replied, "A search for a missing person."

Pleased that his guess had been correct he said, "That's kinda what I thought when you asked for lead lined bunkers. You can't see into them so what are you going to do ask the MPD to check them out?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Who's missing, if you don't mind my asking?"

"It would be a little premature to tell you that."

In a conspiratorial tone he said, "Okay, I understand. What if I promised to keep it off the record?"

"Still too early. I need to see what can be done first."

Defeated and yet hopeful, Jimmy replied, "Okay, Superman. If you need any more help, you know how to find me."

"Thanks for the offer, Jimmy. I'll be back." He took the printout and left through the windows the same way he had entered.

As he was leaving Perry came out of his office and shouted, “Olsen!”

Jimmy had been watching Superman fly away and when he heard Perry he looked in his direction. As soon as he made eye contact Perry shouted, “My office!”

“Right away Chief!” He hustled to the Editor’s office.

By the time he got there Perry was already seated behind his desk. He asked, “What’d Superman want?”

“He needed a city map with all the lead lined bomb shelters marked.”

Scenting a possible story Perry pressed the issue, “What’d he want that for?”

“He said he was searching for a missing person.”

With a knowing look at this confirmation that this could be a story of consequence he kept at it, “At least you got that much. Did you find out just who was missing?”

“Well, no, I didn’t Chief. I asked, but he said it would be too premature to release the name.”

Disappointed, Perry challenged, “Why’d you let that stop you? You know, back in the day that would have been like waving a red flag in front of a bull to a good reporter. I would have kept pushing until I had a name.”

Jimmy, trying to mitigate his perceived failure, said “I offered to keep it off the record and he still refused. Besides Chief, this is Superman you’re talking about. You don’t push him.”

With a look of superiority he said, “Oh no? If he comes back you just let me handle it, son. The ol master’ll show you how it’s done. Now, you get outta here and get back to work.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Superman’s next stop was the twelfth precinct and Inspector Bill Henderson.

As soon as he walked in the sergeant on the desk sent him on back.

When he entered Bill’s office he got right to the point, "Inspector, I need your help."

With a look of disbelief, Bill asked, "You need my help? I find that a little hard to believe. What can I do for you, Superman?"

"I'm conducting a search for a missing person and there are places that I can't look because they are lead lined."

With sudden understanding Bill asked, "Who are you looking for?"

"I'd rather not say at this point, if you don't mind."

"Can you at least give me a description?"

"Female, about thirty, approximately five-six, slender, weight about 120, brown hair cut short and brown eyes."

Bill gave him a quizzical look as he finished up and asked, "Is this a joke? That description sounds an awful lot like Lois Lane, uh, excuse me, Lois Kent, we just heard about the wedding. What is this? Kent beat you out and married Lois now you're looking for someone like just like her for yourself?"

"Not exactly Inspector. Can you go with me on this? This is actually a very urgent matter."

"Did Kent put you up to this? Are they playing a game?"

Totally serious now, Superman answered, "No inspector, this is no game. Yes, you’re right. It is Lois.”

Bill slammed both hands down on his desk.

Superman continued, ignoring that interruption. ”You know how long it has taken for them to get married. You know all about Luthor and what he did, creating a clone of Lois and substituting it for her. That was only the tip of the iceberg. There were so many other things they were put through. This is another strange one. Lois has been kidnapped."

While Superman had been speaking Bill had been listening attentively. When Superman finished Bill jumped up and with a tone of incredulity Bill burst out, "Kidnapped?!?!? How did it happen and when? Did Clark witness it? Was there a ransome note? Give me something to go on."

Telling Bill as much of the truth as he could he said, “Clark told me that they were preparing to leave on their honeymoon. He was in one part of the apartment and Lois went into another room and person or persons unknown grabbed her and took her away.”

Bill interrupted, “Wait a minute. Are you telling me that Clark was in the same apartment and he didn’t see or do anything?”

“That’s correct Inspector. It all happened so fast there was nothing he saw or anything he could do to prevent it. Clark contacted me immediately. I’ve been searching the city. It seems inconceivable that they could have gotten out of the city this quickly, but that just might have been possible.”

He gave Bill a searching look as he continued, “If you recall a couple of years ago there was another Superman. We tried to downplay his presence as much as we could. He was another one of Luthor’s creations, a clone of me. He had all of my powers and he almost fooled Lois. He and I had a fight and believe me, it’s no fun fighting yourself. There was a problem with the process that created him though and he was dying even as we struggled. He only lived a very short time afterwards, but if there was another one then she could literally be anywhere in the world by this time.”

“But, Luthor’s gone. He shouldn’t be a threat any longer.”

Superman replied, “I know, but there could be others. We have to examine every possibility.”

Bill queried, “What about Clark? How sure are you that he didn’t do this himself?”

Superman was incredulous as he replied, “Come on Inspector. You know Clark and Lois almost as well as I do. Do you really think Clark would do anything to Lois with all they went through to finally get married?”

Properly chastened, Bill replied, “Well, no I guess not. I bet he’s really broken up about this.”

“Inspector; that might just be the understatement of the century.”

With a sympathetic tone in his voice Bill said, “When you see Clark tell him we’ll do all that we can.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it Inspector. Along that line, I stopped at the Daily Planet and Jimmy Olsen provided me with a printout of all of the locations that there are lead lined bomb shelters in the city. I can’t examine them because the lead blocks my x-ray vision. Could you have them examined?” He offered the printout.

Bill took the sheets of paper and said, “I’ll get some men on this right away. Don’t worry, if she’s in the city, we’ll find her.”

“Thanks Inspector. I’m going to continue my search and expand beyond the city. My fear is that she, in fact, is no longer in the city.”

Bill said, “You go ahead. We’ll do what we can here in the city. By the way, tell Clark, I’m sorry this happened and we’ll do everything we can. Also, I’ll be needing a statement from him and a missing person report.”

“I’ll pass that along to him Inspector. Thanks.” Superman turned and exited the building.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 3

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The first stop Superman made was Smallville, Kansas. He landed in the front yard of the Kent farm and spun into jeans and a T-shirt. With dejected tread, he ascended the steps to the porch and crossed to the door. When he opened the door he saw his parents in the living room.

Martha greeted him, “Clark! We didn’t expect to see you so soon. Are you on the way to your honeymoon? Where’s Lois?” She noted the expression on his face and immediately her happy mood was dispelled. Her tone changed to one of worry as she asked, “Clark, what’s happened? Where’s Lois?”

Clark was almost weeping as he replied, “Lois has been kidnapped.”

You would almost think that Martha was the one with the super powers as she almost literally flew to her son and threw her arms around him and said, “Oh, Honey! How did it happen? Have you looked for her? Did you get a ransom note? Who could have done it?”

Clark related the complete story including his assumption that Tempus was the perpetrator and told them what he had been doing.

As he had been telling the story, Martha had started weeping both for her loss of her special daughter-in-law but also for her boy because she knew just how devastated he was at the loss of the love of his life. Getting up out of his chair, Jonathan moved over and joined Martha in comforting their son. He also was weeping silently as he put an arm across Clark’s shoulder giving him support by the contact.

Finally, after Clark finished he asked, “What am I going to do? How am I going to handle this?” Unashamed, he reached up and wiped the tears away with the back of his hand.

Pulling a hanky out of her apron pocket, Martha dried her eyes too and asked, “You’re going to keep looking for her, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mom, I’m not giving up. I’ll search the globe. I mean, if I *can’t* find her. How am I going to *survive* without her? She’s *everything* to me. I mean, I love you guys, but that’s different. Lois and I just recently found out that we are soul mates. We are fated to be together. I don’t want to be, I can’t be with anyone else.” Realizing just how big a task he had set for himself he started pacing the living room floor. He flung his arms out, as if to encompass the entire globe and said, “I’ll search everywhere as long as that takes.”

Martha watched in sympathy as her son paced. Knowing him as well as she did, she knew just how affected he really was. This behavior told her more than his words ever could. “If you were anyone else, I’d say that after a period of time, she would be declared dead and you would move on, but you’re not like anyone else. You’re special, unique, who knows how that would work with you? With your Kryptonian heritage you might not be able to do that. All these years, we watched as you dated Lana, Rachel and a few others, but you were never serious about any of them. You traveled the world because you couldn’t find anywhere that you felt you belonged. Then, you moved to Metropolis, met Lois and everything changed. Suddenly all you could talk about was Lois. We could see the handwriting on the wall from the very first. We were happy because we knew that you were happy with her.”

After a few seconds, her words calmed him somewhat. He stopped in front of Martha and gently grasping her shoulders, he said, “You’re right Mom. When I met Lois everything changed for me. Suddenly, I felt like I had come home. Anywhere she was, I wanted to be. Now, finally, after all of our problems, finally we were married and we were going to be starting a life together. We were going to be so happy, together and … and now … now she’s ... she's gone. I … I … I need to go, I need to look for her some more.”

Silently, expressing his agreement lending his strength and encouragement to Clark, Jonathan patted his son’s shoulder.

Martha gave him a hug as she said, “I know you’ll do your best. Now, do whatever you can to see to it that you find her and bring her back.”

As Clark started to turn to go, Jonathan stopped him and said, “What are you going to tell the police? What about Sam, Ellen and Lucy? What about Perry White and everyone at the Planet?”

“I’ve been to the police and told them she was kidnapped.”

"I know, but that was as Superman. What is Clark going to tell them?"

Realizing that in his personal grief he had totally forgotten all of the others in Lois’ life he hung his head, “As much as I can without giving the secret away. You’re right about the Lanes too. I need to talk to Sam, Ellen and Lucy. They should know, before they find out from reading the paper. Can I use your phone?”

Martha answered, “Sure you can. But, wouldn’t it be better in person?”

“I don’t know if I can face them.”

Jonathan said, “Son, you really need to. Your mother is right. It would be better in person.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I guess I need to go and face them. Tell them that their daughter is missing. It’s going to be devastating.”

Encouragingly, Jonathan replied, “It will be better if you are there. It’s the right thing to do.”

Acknowledging the correctness of the decision, he nodded his head “Okay, I guess I’d better go do that now.”

After giving and receiving a final hug from both his Mom and Dad he exited and spinning into the Suit took off for Metropolis.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Reaching his apartment he entered from the balcony and was just in time to spin back into his casual clothes before there was a knock on the door.

He moved through the bedroom and living room to answer the door. When he opened it Bill Henderson was on the other side. In a dispirited voice he said, “Hi Bill, come on in.”

True to his training as a detective, Bill looked around and saw their luggage piled up, obviously ready for them to go on their honeymoon. He filed this clue away for future reference. He said, “Superman stopped by and asked if we could help find Lois. We have teams out canvassing the city. I came by to see how you are holding up.”

As Bill had been entering Clark had retreated to his sofa and dropped onto it. He sat there with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. There was so much grief in his voice that Bill almost couldn’t make out what he was saying as Clark replied, “I guess I’m doing as well as can be expected, under the circumstances. I just told my parents. They encouraged me to keep searching. I just don’t know where to start.”

“From what Superman told me there isn’t much chance of you finding her by yourself. That’s why I came over. I want you to stay here. The kidnappers may try to contact you to give you their demands, ransom, some demand about Superman, a story in the paper, I don’t know, whatever they want. They may slide a note under your door or they may try to call you. If they do you are to let me know immediately, you got that? I don’t want you going off like a loose cannon on your own. You stay put.”

Clark lifted his head and looked at Bill. Seeing his expression he realized he was serious and said, “Okay Bill. I’ll stay here, but I would have thought that they would have left a note when they grabbed her.”

"Mind if I look around some?"

Clark flung his hand out indicating the apartment and said, "Help yourself."

Bill also noted his response, the response of someone with nothing to hide. As he moved into the bedroom he noticed the rumpled character of the bed clothes and thought, <That was to be expected. After all the time they waited. They are newlyweds after all.>

He moved into the attached bathroom. When he did he spotted her shoes and the bag on the floor. Noting that it was a cloth covered bag, including the handles, Bill knew that there would be no recoverable fingerprints, so he stooped and opened the bag. When he did he pinched the edges of the zipper tab rather than the flats. As he did he noted the contents; cosmetics, toiletries and one sexy black teddy. With a knowing look Bill thought, <The bed wasn’t rumpled from what I thought. She wasn’t coming in here to change into travel clothes; she was coming in here to change so that they could get an early start on the honeymoon. Poor guy. I really feel sorry for him.> Bill zipped the bag closed and left it lying where he had found it. There would be a forensics team going through the entire apartment and the least he disturbed any possible evidence the better it would be for Clark. He looked around the bathroom and noted that there was nothing out of order and no evidence of a struggle; also there was no ransom note. That all fit with what Superman had said. It had happened so quick that Clark couldn’t have seen anything or been able to do anything.

The perp had to have had Superman’s powers or some other means of subduing Lane so quickly that struggle was impossible. Was Superman’s story about a clone Superman true? Didn’t he have a thing for Lois too? Could he be the perpetrator after all and just be pretending to help locate her? <I suppose anything is possible. There is that old saying, ‘All’s fair in love and war.’ Did he love her that much that he’d turn on his friend and break the law to have her? He’ll have to be treated as a suspect.>

Bill moved back out to the living area of the apartment and stood there looking around, taking it all in. Moving into the kitchenette he looked toward the bedroom and decided that if Clark had been in the kitchenette and Lois had gone into the bathroom, which was off the bedroom as evidenced by the presence of the bag, it would be possible for her to be snatched without Clark seeing anything or being able to do anything to prevent it.

Bill addressed Clark with a question, “Do you think it could have been Superman himself?”

Clark’s reply was immediate, “No,!! That would be impossible!” As soon as it was out of his mouth he realized that he had perhaps been too vehement in his denial.

If Bill noticed, he didn’t let on; after all, it could simply be loyalty to a long time friend. Someone that you really want to think the best of. Still, the question needed to be asked, “But, didn’t he have a thing for Lois?”

“No Bill, he didn’t.” He knew he had to think of a logical reason to keep Superman from being a real suspect. He answered, “It would be impossible. You see, he is highly ethical and it would be outside of his character, now that Lois and I are married, for him to pursue a relationship with her. Besides, I trust him, implicitly.”

Bill started rolling Clark’s statements around in his mind testing their validity when suddenly Bill’s analysis was interrupted by Clark, “Bill, I have to go out, just for a short time.”

“I said you were to stay here.”

“I have to see Lois’ parents. I have to tell them. They need to hear it from me, not the police, not the papers. I owe them that much.”

Bill relented, “Oh, okay, but get back here as quickly as you can. Do you need a lift? My car’s just outside.”

“Thanks, Bill. Yes, that would help.”

They exited Clark’s building and moved to Henderson’s car. Clark was brooding and uncommunicative as Henderson drove.

When Henderson pulled up in front of the building that Sam had an apartment in, Bill asked, “Do you want me to come up with you or wait?”

“No, Bill. Thanks anyhow. I need to do this by myself and the walk back will do me good.”

“Okay, but, get back to your apartment as quickly as you can. We don’t want to miss any communications from the kidnappers.”

“I will Bill. Thanks for the lift.” He reached over and shook Bill’s hand before he opened the door to exit.

Bill was surprised to find a tear rolling down his cheek while he watched as his friend trudged up the steps to the doors of the apartment building. He hastily wiped it away with the back of his hand. Observing Clark’s demeanor he thought, <How could I have ever considered him a suspect? If I ever saw a beaten man, that’s him. His whole life has been wrapped up in her. It’s almost like with her disappearance he’s lost the will to live. You can see the worry and despair written all over his face. We need to find her. Even if we can’t we have to do everything we can. Much as I hate to admit it, I have started to like Lane. Ever since she hooked up with Kent she’s mellowed, well, at least a little.> He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 4

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Clark slowly mounted the stairs rather than take the elevator in order to give himself some time to compose himself and prepare for the confrontation. When he reached the correct floor he paused just inside the door until he had his emotions basically under control. Exiting the stairwell and moving down the corridor until he was in front of the door to Sam Lane’s apartment where he prepared to knock. Then his superhearing picked up three distinct heartbeats. He thought, <Just as well. This way I can do it all at once.> He reached up and knocked on the door.

After a few seconds Sam Lane answered the door. When he saw Clark he looked around for Lois and not seeing her he looked again at Clark. The expression on Clark’s face told Sam a story that Sam didn’t want to hear. He asked, “Clark, what’s happened? Where’s Lois?”

Ellen heard part of Sam’s question and jumped out of her seat on the couch and hurried to the door. As she approached she asked, “Sam? What about Lois? Clark, what are you doing here? Where's Lois? Why aren't you two on the way to your honeymoon?” Seeing his countenance Ellen realized that something was wrong. She almost screamed at him, “CLARK! Where's Lois???" Her voice had been rising in octaves and volume, taking on a note of hysteria as she had been speaking.

Clark finally broke his silence and said, "I'm sorry, ".

Before he could even complete his statement Ellen Lane screamed, "NO!" and then wailed, "Lois, what has happened to Lois? Where is she?"

Clark started again, "I'm sorry, she's missing. She's been kidnapped. We don't know where she is."

Lucy finally had moved over close to the door and heard the final couple of statements. In a frenzied tone she asked, "Did you say that Lois had been kidnapped? How could you let something like that happen?"

"Lucy, it isn't that I let it happen; there was no way I could prevent it from happening. It all happened so quickly. We had no warning. One minute she was there and the next she was ... gone." his voice broke on that last word and all could see just how much he was affected by her loss.

Sam finally realizing that they were still standing in the doorway said, "Come on in Clark. Let's talk inside instead of in the hallway."

Clark stepped in and Sam closed the door. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Sam said, "Now, tell us what happened."

"I really don't know, it all happened so fast. We ... We were preparing to leave for Hawaii. Lois went into another part of the apartment, I think she was going to change clothes, and suddenly she was gone. I didn't see her leave. I didn't see who took her. Just suddenly, she was gone."

In a fatalistic tone, Ellen said, "I need a drink."

Addressing Ellen, Sam said, "Don't start that again. We need clear heads if we are going to deal with this."

Ellen replied, "You deal with it with a clear head if you want. Me, I need a drink."

Lucy almost shouted, "Mom, don't! Dad's right! Now is not the time."

"It might not be the time for you, but it's past time for me. Sam, where's your liquor?"

Sam tried to prevent or at least delay the inevitable, "I don't keep any here."

"Don't lie to me Sam. I know you have a bottle or two around here ... somewhere. Just get it for me."

"No Ellen, I won't. Not this time."

Clark Interrupted, "I'm really sorry. Maybe I should go."

While Clark talked some more with Sam, Lucy was remonstrating with her mother about the drinking. In a huff now at being denied what she felt she needed Ellen flounced down onto the couch. Lucy sat next to her and tried, unsuccessfully to calm her down.

Finally, Sam said, "No Clark, I'm sorry you had to go through this. I'm sure Lois' disappearance has upset you enough without having to witness this scene. What is being done to find her?"

"The police are scouring the city and Superman has also been searching. I ... I really need to get back to my apartment. The police want me to be there in case the kidnappers try to contact me with their demands."

"Yes, that makes sense. You should be there, not here."

"I felt that it was my duty to be the one to tell you."

"You were right Clark and we appreciate it. Even Ellen, though it doesn’t look like it. But you should go. You need to be there in case they try to contact you. Please, keep us informed."

"I will. As soon as I hear something I'll let you know." Clark turned and headed out the door.

He had only gotten a few steps down the hall when the door opened and Lucy came out after him, "Clark?"

Turning at the sound of her voice Clark said, "I'm sorry Lucy. You kinda got left out in there. What can I do for you?"

She moved up close to him before saying, "For one thing you can tell me what happened. Mom kinda interrupted and I never heard any details."

"There really isn't that much to tell. We were getting ready to leave for our honeymoon. I was in one part of the apartment and she was in another when someone grabbed her and took her away. It happened so fast I didn't even know about it until it was over. I've been to the police, well, actually Superman went to the police and Inspector Henderson came and saw me at the apartment."

"What's being done to find her?"

"Squads of police are scouring the city. Superman is out looking. Everything that can be done is being done." At this point he nearly broke down, but wanting to put up a brave front for Lucy, he barely managed to control himself.

Lucy, seeing this reached out a hand and placed it tenderly on his arm and said, "Don't worry, brother-in-law. Somehow, I just know everything will turn out okay."

"I hope you're right Lucy. I don't know what I'd do if she were lost to me forever. I don't know if I'd even want to continue living." He stood there for a few seconds, feeling her hand on his arm. The personal contact was oddly comforting. He was fighting with his emotions and finally said, "I need to get back, in case the kidnappers try to contact me with their demands."

Lucy slid her hand up and down his arm in a comforting way as she said, "You go ahead. I'll tell Mother and Daddy the details, that is if we can keep Mother from crawling into a bottle long enough. You take care."

Clark reached up and covered her hand with his as he said, "You too, Lucy and thanks.” Clark turned and headed for the stairwell.

They had been standing quite close to the stairwell door and Lucy followed him with her eyes until the door closed behind him and then she heard the unmistakable sounds of weeping. She was tempted to go to him but refrained, allowing him to grieve in private. She turned and headed back into the lion's den knowing that she was going to have to fight with her mother in order to keep her on the wagon and not happy at the prospect.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Clark had not as yet told the staff at the Planet about what had happened to Lois. He had waited until he could do it in person so a few days later, to everyone’s surprise, Clark returned to the Planet. Perry was out on the floor when the ding of the elevator chime sounded and he turned to see who had arrived. When Clark exited the elevator a startled look overtook Perry’s features. Perry asked, “Clark, what are you doin’ here? I thought y’all were on your honeymoon.” Seeing Clark there was one thing but when the elevator doors closed behind him and Lois failed to emerge he asked, “The two o’ you didn’t have a fight, did you?” Seeing the look on Clark’s face he realized that there was a lot more to it than a spat. He dropped the papers he had in his hand as in a strained tone asked, “Where’s Lois?”

His crushed demeanor being evident Clark asked, “Can I talk to you in your office?”

Perry was really becoming concerned and asked again and in a higher tone, “Clark, *where’s* *Lois*?”

By this time the conversation had the attention of everyone in the bullpen and looking around Clark saw that all eyes were on him. He even sensed that collectively all but a few of his co-workers were holding their breath waiting to hear his response. In a defeated tone he replied, “She’s been kidnapped and neither the police nor Superman have been able to find the slightest trace of her.”

As everyone in the bullpen gasped and shouted their disbelief, Perry sagged into a nearby chair.

Looking up from where he had stooped down to recover Perry’s papers Jimmy shouted, “Is that who Superman was searching for?”

“Yes, Jimmy and I thank you for helping him.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell me? He knows how close we are.”

“He didn’t want to upset everyone in case he was able to find her. The police have been looking as well as Superman, but she hasn’t been found as yet.”

Turning to Perry he asked, “Perry, can I see you in your office now?”

Perry roused himself. Jimmy handed him the papers he had dropped and Perry led the way to his office. Once he was seated he put the papers down on his desk and collected himself before asking, “How are you holding up Clark?”

“About like you’d expect. I haven’t been sleeping well. I keep thinking I hear her, but she’s not there.”

“What’s being done to find her?”

“Superman and the MPD are all looking for her. Superman reports back to me frequently. He has scoured the country, in fact the entire North American continent. He will be starting south of the border shortly. He has promised that he won’t stop searching until she’s found. Perry, I need to work. If I stay home I’ll go crazy. Can you give me something to do?”

Just then over a police scanner came an announcement of a problem at Metropolis prison. Perry looked at Clark. Clark nodded and headed out.

When he hit the stairwell he spun into the Suit and headed for the prison. He landed as some guards coughing from some gas inhalation stumbled away from a gaping hole in the wall.

The guard informed him that it had been a prison break and that only one prisoner had escaped, Conner Schenk, a man who had been in prison so long it was like the prison had been built around him. At this point he had to be in his seventies or eighties. Superman quickly repaired the breach in the wall to prevent any additional escapes and then flew off.

Later that day an old man entered the bullpen. He was in an agitated state calling out for Jimmy Olsen. Jimmy didn’t recognize him, but after he died of old age they checked his ID and found out that he was actually a twenty something that had been a friend of Jimmy’s.

Jimmy was teamed up with Clark for the investigation but Jimmy went off on his own and was made a victim of the same machine as his friend. After he escaped he started to age rapidly, but before senility set in he was able to lead Superman to the location where it had all been done to him.

Superman intervened and saved Jimmy’s life by giving up some of his life force. He hadn’t been able to find Lois, but he got some modicum of comfort from helping Jimmy live a full life.

With Conner Schenk back in prison and Veeda Doodsen brought up on charges that case was wrapped up.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Two week after Lois’ disappearance Clark walked into police headquarters and surrendered himself to Inspector Bill Henderson.

When he was in Bill’s office Bill said, “This is only a formality Clark. In cases of unexplained disappearance, family or spouses are the main persons of interest. If we had gotten a ransom note or a call or something, anything but silence, we wouldn’t be going through this.”

“I understand Bill. Procedures. Do you think this could possibly go to trial? Should I hire a lawyer?”

Somewhat apologetically Bill replied, “Go to trial? I don’t think so. Should you hire a lawyer? I don’t know. That’s entirely up to you. Without a corpus delicti first they have to prove that a crime actually has been committed and that is difficult. The fact that the person is not physically here to look at isn’t sufficient grounds to prove a crime has in fact been committed. You know, if Ellen Lane hadn’t pushed this you wouldn’t even be here. She insisted on a coroner’s inquest. Of course that was a no-go. If there’s no *body* there is no way to determine the cause of death which is where a coroner’s inquest comes in. When she was turned down for that she pushed for a Grand Jury. That’s why we are here. Why is she so mad at you?”

In a rather sad tone Clark replied, “I don’t really think she’s mad at me Bill. I think she is just plain mad that she lost her daughter and is striking out at anyone and everyone. If she hadn’t been with Sam when it happened she might have tried to blame him. I’m just a convenient target.”

“Personally, I’ll do all that I can to squash any charges.”

“Thanks Bill. I appreciate it.”

After Clark was fingerprinted and booked he was released on his own recognizance.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Two weeks later the Grand Jury was empanelled and the disappearance examined. As Bill had predicted lacking a body a crime could not be proven so there were no charges lodged.

Remembering when Superman had been booked and fingerprinted, as soon as the Grand Jury handed down its verdict Clark applied for expungement to have his fingerprints removed from the record. It wouldn’t do to have Clark Kent’s fingerprints match up with Superman’s.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Later that same day, carrying a small paper bag, Clark entered STAR Labs and asked to meet with Dr. Klein. He was sent on back and after greeting him said, “Doc, I’ve got an unusual request to make.” He put the bag on his desk.

Bernie looked at it and asked, “What do we have here?”

“I brought Lois’ hair brush. Assuming that there are some hair follicles it will be a sample of her DNA. I’d like you to map her DNA.”

“Why? Do you want to try and create a clone or something?”

“No, that’s just it Bernie. If she were to suddenly show up I need a way to verify that it *is* her and *not* a clone.”

“Ahhhh, I see. A wise precaution. I’ll get right on it. I’ll run triplicate samples just so there will be no question. It will take some time.”

“Let it Bernie. Accuracy is more important than speed. Thank you. I really appreciate it. By the way, do you have a mapping of Superman’s DNA on file?”

“No, we don’t. Should we?”

“Why don’t I talk to him? Maybe it would be a good thing. He should come in and give you a sample so that it can be mapped. You never can tell what might happen or when something like that would come in handy. Thanks Doc. I’ll be in touch.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Two months later Clark was served with papers for a civil suit; Ellen Lane vs. Clark Kent suing him in the disappearance of one Lois Lane-Kent.

However, this suit never came to trial because before a court date could be set the Plaintiff died of alcohol poisoning.

A week later Clark stood with Sam and Lucy Lane at the funeral.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 5

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After Ellen Lane’s funeral Clark returned to his apartment. He had taken off his black suit jacket and placed it over the back of a chair before sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands trying to decide where he should search next or if it was even worth the effort to continue searching. He was wracked with sadness, fear and doubts as he continued brooding.

After a while there was a knock on his door. His head came up and he listened with his superhearing. He recognized the heartbeat as that of Lucy Lane. He composed himself and moved to the door to let her in.

She was still wearing her black outfit from the funeral. She asked, "Do you mind if I come in for a while?"

Clark replied, "No, not at all. You know you're always welcome here."

"In that case can I stay with you a while? I just ... I just don't want to be alone right now."

"I can understand that feeling. Take off your coat and relax. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"That'd be nice. Thanks."

While he was in the kitchenette making the tea, Lucy took off her coat and draped it over a chair back on top of his jacket, unknowingly, a prophetic action, and then settled herself on the sofa near the middle. Calling into the kitchenette she asked, "Have you heard anything about Lois yet? She's been gone for months now. It almost seems like she might not be coming back at all."

Clark brought the tea in on a tray and placed it on the coffee table before he sat down on the end of the sofa. They both fixed their tea and started sipping it. Clark sighed before he replied. "I haven't given up hope that she will return."

Lucy looked at him over the rim of her tea cup and asked, "What will you do if she doesn't?"

Staring into his cup, wishing it would turn into a crystal ball and tell him where Lois was, he said, "I'll keep looking for her and hoping for a miracle."

"Wouldn't you give up at some point and move on?"

"With who? Lucy, your sister, was … is … the love of my life. There's no one like her. There’s no one else for me."

Lucy edged closer to Clark on the sofa. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts of Lois that he didn't notice that she was closing the distance between them.

When she was so close that their thighs were touching he realized what was happening and he jumped up. She also stood and approached him like a cat stalking its prey. “What’s the problem? Are you afraid she will catch us? Clark, she’s not here. She’s gone, perhaps for good. We’re both adults. We don’t have to ask anyone’s permission …” As she was speaking she backed him toward the sofa reaching to put her hands on his shoulders.

In his attempt to avoid her, Clark retreated before her and he actually fell backwards over the arm of the sofa. He found himself on his back laying on the couch. Before he was able to scoot more than a foot or so backwards, Lucy was literally on him.

She had pulled her skirt up so that she could straddle his hips. Despite his verbal protests the stimulation had the reaction on him that she had desired.

Clark was so shocked into immobility that he simply lay there. He could feel himself responding because the stimulation felt so good. His reaction was automatic. He started arguing with himself, <I need to make her stop. Oh, that feels so good. Oh, yes. NO! This is Lucy, not Lois! Why is she doing this? Have to make her stop. Make her stop making it feel so good. Lois! Help me Lois. Help me make her stop.> He could feel his resolve strengthen. He was wondering how he could extricate himself from this situation without damaging his relationship with her.

Clark continued to lay there, unmoving as she continued her assault seeking the strength of will to stop her.

Clark roused himself enough to ask, “Lucy, what was that all about? I’m a married man? I’m married to your sister!”

Still having something of a dreamy tone in her voice she replied, "What was that about? It was about you and me. Lois wasn't the only Lane woman attracted to you. The only reason I didn't say anything before was because of Lois. She's not around now. We Lane women go after what we want and I want you." She levered herself up by placing her hands on his chest and pushing. As soon as she was upright she reached for and started unbuttoning her blouse.

Seeing this prompted him to act. He rolled out from under her and she tried to grab him, not wanting to lose the close contact. He stood and pulled her skirt back down to return her modesty. He asked, "Lucy, what was that really about?"

“Like I said, that was all about us, you and me. Don’t deny it! You were enjoying that almost as much as me.” With a sexy pout she patted the sofa next to herself and said, “Come back here to me.”

"Lucy, look, you're a sweet girl and I love you ... like a sister, but that is as far as it will ever go. You're Lois' sister, but I'm married to Lois."

Now she was getting exasperated and it was evident in her voice. “Can’t you get it through your head, she’s gone,” she almost shouted and then in a sweet, coquettish voice she finished, “I’m here! I’ll take care of you.”

He tried to be stern with her, but it still came out a little weaker than he had intended, “I’m sorry, Lucy. It’d never work. I still believe that Lois will return. I have to believe that she will. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost that hope.”

Seeing his expression and hearing the tone in his voice, she realized that, at least for the time being, she wasn’t going to get her way, but that wouldn’t keep her from trying some more. Eventually Lucy left with a promise that she would be seeing him, frequently. She was determined that she would have a relationship with Clark.

After she walked out the door Clark released a relieved sigh.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

For the next five years Clark had to fend off Lucy’s continued attempts to ensnare him in a relationship.

As he was seeking a way to deflect her he finally hit upon a plan. Most of the time he knew when she was coming over and each time she did he asked Jimmy to show up as well.

Eventually he was able to fade into the background and let Jimmy take the lead. It was unclear whether or not Lucy was really attracted to Jimmy or if she finally saw the writing on the wall and realized that no matter how much she tried, Clark would not be available and accepted the second best. The consolation, for Clark, was the fact that they did at least seem to be happy together.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Clark never gave up in his search. He would spend weeks canvassing a country from border to border, mostly at night so that he would have less chance of being observed. There were countries that his presence was accepted, however there were countries where their regimes were afraid of his abilities and the fact that he could compromise their plans, militaristically among others. Those countries he had to exercise added caution. It was important that he remain unobserved either by eye or radar.

Superman cut back on a lot of his personal appearances. This had required that he lay down the law to Murray, but after fighting it some Murray accepted his decision.

The overweening sorrow took its toll on him. As Superman he was even more stoic and taciturn than he had been formerly. His aloofness caused people to be more standoffish than they had previously. In the past he would occasionally lighten up and perhaps even give a half smile. Even those disappeared.

As Clark Kent he threw himself into his job to take his mind off of his missing Lois. He refused, adamantly, to admit that she could be dead. Occasionally he still heard echoes of her heartbeat, mostly in the middle of the night. It would wake him out of a sound sleep and be gone before he could even begin to move anything other than his eyelids.

Occasionally he spent a sleepless night keeping a fruitless vigil in the bathroom just in case she would reappear.

Several times he was actually awake when he heard it and quickly focused his x-ray vision on the bathroom. All he caught was a shimmer as if something insubstantial had appeared momentarily.

Sometimes he was tempted to doubt his sanity. How could he be hearing Lois’ heartbeat or voice? Yet, all of these … manifestations, served to keep him hoping that someday … someday she would in fact return to him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As the decades passed he continued his search, never giving up hope.

The next blow that fell was when Perry White passed. He had only been retired for five short years. It seemed like when he left the Planet he didn’t have any reason to continue living and he simply wasted away. Alice was really broken up when she lost him.

One of the hardest things he had ever done was prepare the obituary for Perry. He wouldn’t allow anyone else to handle it. It was a work of love and respect for his boss and mentor.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next year Jonathan Kent had a heart attack and was hospitalized for an extended period.

By this time Clark had managed to purchase his entire apartment building so he had his father transferred to MetGen. Then, after closing up the farm house, he moved his mother to the apartment next to his so that they could be together while Jonathan was in the hospital and he would have them both nearby after Jonathan was released.

After quadruple bypass surgery Jonathan began a long convalescence and was happy to have all of his family nearby.

The family grew closer together, closer than they had been before he had left on his world travels.

That was why it was such a blow when his mother unexpectedly collapsed one afternoon from a major stroke. She remained unconscious for two days before she finally passed. Her husband followed her in fairly short order, literally within weeks of Martha’s funeral. Who would argue that it was from a broken heart at the loss of his wife and partner of almost sixty years? The funerals had been held in Smallville with interment in the old family plot in one corner of the farm.

Now, he was truly alone. He went to work and did his job. He did what he had to do as Superman, but his heart really wasn’t in it. Without his family, without his Lois, why should he go on? If not for his invulnerability he might consider suicide, but between that and the fact that he was still needed as Superman he might have done it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 6

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Since Lois had disappeared ninety years had passed and Clark had never found Lois even though he had scoured the globe for decades. The years hadn’t been kind to Clark. As a result of Veda Doodsen’s machine and the transfer of a portion of his life force to Jimmy he had aged, perhaps not as rapidly as an Earth human but his age was very apparent. His hair was gray and he was balding and his head seemed to be slightly cocked to one side as if he was always listening for his Lois. His posture was somewhat stooped and his face etched with lines from years of worry and sorrow and his physique had suffered the ravages of time. He wasn’t as robust as he had been formerly. He wasn’t quite as fast as he had been and his legendary strength had started to wane.

As Clark Kent, he had retired from the Daily Planet a number of years ago and had lived as a recluse ever since. All of his close friends as well as his parents had passed away a number of years ago. Now completely alone and bereft, with the loss of his soul mate he had been unable to bring himself to form any close relationships and especially hadn’t ever considered any intimate relationships. When he died there would be no super children to take his place. The world would lose its lone superhero.

It was, to him, rather ironic that his long life had enabled him to become rich. Careful investing even for normal people could be beneficial in retirement, but to someone with his lifespan it was more than beneficial. Clark still lived in the same apartment. Years ago he had purchased the entire building so that he could prevent it from being demolished. His mother and father had come to live in the next apartment, but they has passed long ago. Now he was in an empty building. It was the last place he had seen Lois and he was loathe to give it up in case she would reappear as suddenly as she had disappeared. That hope was the one thing that had kept him going all of these years.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tonight was a special night. Every year on this date, their anniversary, he would make a dinner and after eating he’d simply sit on the bed and reminisce about that night. He would go over it again and again in his mind and wonder what he had missed and if he could have done anything differently.

Ever since Lois had disappeared Clark had occasionally heard echoes of Lois’ heartbeat and voice, always emanating from the bathroom. He knew that somehow Tempus had to be involved, but in the last ninety years he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him or Herb and he had no idea as to how to contact Herb to enlist his aid.

Clark ate his solitary dinner and then because that was what he had been wearing when she had disappeared, he put on the Suit and went into the bedroom to sit on the bed.

He was weary and finally after musing for a while he lay down to rest.

Suddenly his superhearing caught a sound he had never given up hope of hearing again. Over the years he had heard the ghost of her voice or her heartbeat periodically, but this was different. It was strong and regular and it didn’t disappear again. He was instantly alert as he sat up on the bed and then slowly, forcing his weary bones and muscles to comply with his wishes, he stood.

A few seconds later a barefoot Lois came stumbling into the room. There was a cut on her forehead that hadn’t been there when she had been kidnapped. She was still dressed in the burnt orange dress she had been wearing when she had gone into the bathroom to change all those years ago. She was shaking her head as if she was dazed and he shouted, “Lois!” It came out as a wheezing croak.

She looked up and seeing the Suit she shouted, “Clark!” and launched herself in his direction. When she hit him he wasn’t able to continue standing. Between his surprise and his age he was weak and she bowled him over.

In her exuberance she started kissing him. Suddenly she realized that he was moving more slowly that she expected and she pulled back to take a good look. When she did she asked, “Clark, what ... what has happened? Why do you look so … old? While I was in the bathroom were you exposed to some red Kryptonite that did this to you?”

In reply Clark asked, “Lois, what happened to you? Where have you been all these years?”

“Huh? What do you mean ‘All these years’, I was only gone a couple of minutes!”

‘No Lois, you disappeared ninety years ago today.”

Stunned by his statement, Lois replied, “Ninety years ago?!?! It was Tempus! He dragged me into a time window held me for a couple of minutes and then shoved me out again.”

“You went to change and that was the last I saw of you.” He reached up and gently touched her forehead where she was cut as he asked, “How did you cut your forehead?”

Waving her hand in the air as if to dismiss his concerns she said, “When he let me go I hit my head on the corner of the sink. I thought I was only gone a minute or two and couldn’t figure out why Tempus would do anything that silly. Now I see what he was up to. How can I get back?” she wailed.

“I don’t see how you can. This timeline is already fixed. You were missing from it for ninety years, there’s no going back.”

Frantically searching for a way to correct the situation she asked, "What about Herb? Maybe he could take me back and we could fix this timeline.”

“I don’t see how. I haven’t heard from Herb in almost a century.”

With a note of despair in her voice she said, “Well, this is a fine fix. It’s still my wedding night.” She had a questioning look as she added, “It is, isn’t it?”

“Well, it is our anniversary.”

“Okay, so it’s my wedding night, ninety years removed. Do you think we could still …”

“I don’t know if that would be possible. It’s been years …”

“Great, it’s my wedding night and my husband is too old for us to consummate our wedding.” At this point Lois broke down and started crying.

Clark put his arm around her shoulders and tried to console her.

There was just a touch of fear as to what his answers would be to her next questions, but she had to ask them. She looked at him and blurted out, “What did you do when I disappeared? Did you get married? How many kids do you have? How old are you? What gives?”

“Whoa, one thing at a time; what did I do when you disappeared? I searched for you. I scoured the globe, east, west, north and south, for decades I searched for you. I never gave up. I kept hearing your heartbeat and voice in my dreams. At times I started to question my sanity. I always heard you here in the apartment. That’s why I never gave it up. I heard you but you were never there. Sometimes I thought it was just my imagination or someone playing a trick on me.”

“I may have an answer for you. I remember, as I struggled with Tempus something in front of me, it must have been the portal, kept flickering. It was like an old nickelodeon machine only the picture didn’t change. It was always the bathroom.

“He must have done that to torture me. I could hear your voice or a part of a heartbeat and then it would be gone. Ah, well,” he sighed, “You asked if I got married. Yes, I got married, once, to you. You were missing but, you were my wife. The only woman I would ever marry and because I kept hearing you, I knew you would return, someday. I guess that answers your question about children. How old am I? Remember Veda Doodsen and her machine?”

He paused for her answer.

She asked, “Veeda … Doodsen? Who’s Veeda Doodsen?”

“Oh, that’s right! That happened after Tempus kidnapped you. Jimmy and I were investigating a bank robbery and the death of a friend of his. Veeda Doodsen had invented a machine that transferred the life energy from one person to another. She had used it on Jimmy to make Conner Schenk young again. Jimmy led me to her. In order to save Jimmy, she had to transfer some of my life force to him. There was one good thing came of that incident. Before that procedure Dr. Klein told me that I would live many lifetimes. When I gave up some of my life force for Conner Schenk and Jimmy it shortened my life span. I aged, maybe not as fast as an Earth human, but I aged. I’m over a hundred and twenty years old.”

Her relief was palpable as she threw her arms around his neck and started to cry. She blubbered, “You waited for me. All these years, you waited for me. Clark, I love you, I really do. You’re so special.”

After a time she calmed down and asked, “What are we going to do now?”

“When you disappeared we were just getting ready to go on our honeymoon. Would you still like to go to Hawaii?”

With a smile she said, “I’ll go anywhere with you, any time you want.”

“You won’t mind being seen in the company of a man that looks like he could be your great grandfather? Everyone will think I’m rich and you’re after my money.”

“Let them think what they want, you’re my husband and I love you.”

For the first time in almost a century he was genuinely happy and the smile on his face proved it. Lois had returned to him *and* she still loved him! His joy was unbounded. Suddenly a disappointing thought came to mind. He had to address this with Lois so he said, “You know, I’m not as strong as I used to be. I don’t know if I could fly you that far or that fast now. I can still fly people short hops, like out of a burning building, but six thousand miles may be a bit much.”

With a mischievous look Lois asked, “Do they still use airplanes or are flying saucers in vogue nowadays?”

He started laughing and she got a look of consternation on her face as he replied, “The flying saucers are reserved for flights up to the space station, the Moon and Mars Base. We do use SSTs for long trips like this. One consolation, we can afford to fly first class.”

She was shocked! Had technology progressed that far? With a stunned expression she asked, “You mean that flying saucers are real???”

With a serious expression he replied, “Yep, for about ten years now.”

With a look of wonder on her face she said, “I was kidding, but you’re serious, aren’t you?”

Not able to maintain a straight face any longer he started laughing and replied, “No. I was pulling your leg.”

With a pained look and chagrined at having fallen for his story, she said, “Okay for you Mr. New Prankster. Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get packed.”

Becoming a little more serious he said, “We will, but we have a few things to do first.” Saying this he pulled her into his arms and started a kiss. It started somewhat tentatively but built in intensity as all of the frustration of missing her for ninety years was released to be replaced by joy. When they broke from the kiss he put his forehead against hers and said, “I’ve waited ninety years for that.”

She captured his lips in another, this time, brief kiss before she said, “There’s plenty more where that came from. At least we can do that.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Before they went on their much delayed honeymoon, they jumped through all of the hoops needed to reestablish her identity which included providing DNA samples to STAR Labs so that a genetic match could be made.

As soon as they left the apartment the next day, one of Lois’ concerns about the ninety year lapse was relieved. Looking at the other women on the streets and noting what they were wearing, she could see a number of different styles being worn. Her dresses might look a little retro but they wouldn’t really be out of place.

When they arrived at STAR Labs they explained the situation and the sample was taken for the mapping. Over the years the process had been improved and the sample processing only took half an hour to complete. The comparison confirmed that this was in fact the real Lois Lane and she was provided certificates attesting to that fact.

Since Clark had never discarded any of her things it was easier than it would have been to reestablish her identity. That coupled with the fact that he had insisted that she never be declared legally dead, even though her father and sister had requested it, which also helped establish her bona fides. Between the DNA and all of her other documents it wasn’t long until she had a new driver’s license and other appropriate documents.

The rest of that summer they spent together on one long vacation getting to know each other all over again and the world that Lois had just stepped into.

Over the course of the vacation Lois caught up on what had happened over the last ninety years. Clark made sure she had the latest technology available for data-link access and she spent a lot of time on historical research. Slowly, with Clark’s assistance, she became re-acclimated to society. Things had changed and yet they had really stayed the same for the most part. Societal change, when it came, was a slow process unless there was a major influence exerted.

One significant item she noticed that had prevented societies descent into decay was Superman. He had remained a force for good throughout her time away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Clark came into the room from a shower one afternoon to find her crying. Lois had put off reading about her own disappearance and the effects it had produced until she felt that she would be able to handle it better. Finally, she had read about her disappearance and the things that had happened as a result.

She had just finished reading the obituary on her mother. Clark moved over and sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulder in support. With vehemence she said, “Damn that Tempus! My mother died because of what he did. Clark, I read some other things that I need you to explain. You were arrested?”

“Well, yeah. It was just a formality.”

“But, why? Why would they even think you could have had anything to do with my disappearance?”

“Do you really need to know?”

“Yes, Clark, I want to know everything. Good and bad”

“Okay, well, that was your mother’s doing. She really wasn’t responsible. She was angry and needed someone to take that anger out on and I was an available target.”

“But, for her to suspect you, of all people.”

“I didn’t hold it against her. I think it was the drink talking.”

In a tone of misery, Lois said, “Yeah, the drink. I should have known she’d fall off the wagon. Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry. Forgive me,” as she started to cry again.

After a time she got her emotions back under control and asked, “What happened to Daddy?”

In a sad tone he replied, “About ten years after your mother passed he followed her to the grave. He never did strike it rich. He went from one scheme to the next. He made a little money here and there, but nothing major.”

Lois then asked, “What happened to Lucy?”

He hesitated for a few beats before answering, “Lucy was around. About five years after you disappeared, she finally started dating again and three years later she married Jimmy Olsen.”

“So, Jimmy Olsen became my brother-in-law. I guess I have some nieces and nephews.”

With a laugh he said, “You have some great grand nieces and nephews. I’ve lost track of them all.”

“I’m glad she found someone she would be happy with.”

His reply tripped her reporter’s instinct as he said, “Yeah, so am I,” in a relieved tone.

She challenged, “There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

He stuttered, “Huh, uh, wha … what do you mean by that?”

His response confirmed her suspicion and she challenged, “I mean that there’s more to the story about Lucy than the fact that she married Jimmy. Come on, give.”

“Can’t we just leave it at that and go on?” Remembering just what had passed between him and Lucy he started to blush.

Lois noticed his blush and Mad Dog took over as she challenged, “No, we can’t just leave it at that.” Jumping up she started to pace and then stopped in front of him and as if suddenly coming to a conclusion demanded, “She made a play for you, didn’t she? *Didn't* she? Come on, tell me.”

Sheepishly, he answered, “Well, yes, kinda.”

With a note of triumph that she had been correct in her supposition she almost shouted, “I shoulda known. That little witch. As soon as my back was turned. What’d she do?”

Somewhat reluctantly and hoping that the answer would be no he asked, “You don’t really want details, do you?”

Half reluctantly, because of what she expected she would be hearing, she said, “Give me the whole gory mess. Don’t worry; she’s not here anymore so I can’t kill her.”

He gave her the details on how for five long years Lucy had pursued a relationship with him. He did edit the story somewhat not including all of the detail on the encounter after the funeral. Not so much to shield her from what her sister had done, but out of embarrassment at his failure to avoid the encounter.

When he had finished she said, “You know, it’s a good thing she isn’t here because I *would* disembowel her. Much as I loved her, she tried to poach *my* husband.”

“She tried to have you declared legally dead thinking that if that were done I’d move on and she’d be there for me. I filed a counter suit and prevented that from happening.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and said, “Thank you, my loyal husband and thank you for not giving in to her. She was a Lane woman and I know how persistent we can be.”

“Fifteen years after you disappeared, Perry retired, I was promoted into the editor’s office and Jimmy had the city desk. I retired twenty years later and Jimmy became Editor.”

“Thanks to investments I made early on, eventually I had accumulated enough finances to purchase my apartment building. I would have just moved but I had hopes that someday you would reappear. Push came to shove when they announced that they wanted to buy me out so that a new high rise could go up. I refused to sell and they delayed their plans. When we get back, maybe we should sell out and move. The latest offer was twenty times what the building is worth.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As they had planned while on their vacation, when they returned to Metropolis they accepted the offer to sell the apartment building and as soon as the contract was signed they looked for another place to live. They found a house out on Wisteria Lane for sale and made an offer which was accepted.

After they settled in Lois started getting anxious at all of the inactivity. She was happy to be spending time with the love of her life, but her constitution was not such that inactivity would satisfy her. She needed to be out there investigating, exposing the seedy underbelly of society and bringing corrupt officials to account. In a way she was gratified to see that society hadn’t changed all that much in the ninety years she had been away.

Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to be there for her all of the time, Clark reluctantly agreed to Lois going back to the Planet.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 7

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They had been in the new house for about six months when one morning Lois woke up and found that his side of the bed was empty and the sheets were cold.

She thought, <I hope he wasn’t called away on a dangerous mission. He really isn’t up to those anymore.>

He had been in the habit of leaving her a note whenever he was being called away, letting her know what it was and about how long he expected to be away, but this time his bedside table was empty. Seeing this she thought that he must simply be downstairs, perhaps fixing the morning coffee. She took a sniff and didn’t smell coffee. This started to concern her. What was going on? Where was Clark?

She went downstairs and started looking around. She found his note on the counter near the coffee maker.

[b][i]“Lois,

I came down to get something to drink and I heard a broadcast asking for Superman’s assistance.

Star Labs wanted a research packet delivered. It should still be within my reduced capabilities.

There have been some very strong and unusual solar flares which are creating a spectacular aurora borealis. They wanted to examine the phenomenon and wanted an electronics package flown through the effect to record the strength and composition of the anomaly.

It would appear that this is a once in a lifetime event. The last time the flares even approached this intensity was in 2013.

I expect to be back before you get up.

In case I’m not, I love you and will be back soon.

Your loving husband,

Clark”[/i][/b]

Lois was relieved. This was a simple science mission. It was nothing that would tax his abilities. She just had to wait for him to get back so that she could get the details to write up for the paper. She went back upstairs to get dressed for work while she waited for him to return.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

That had been six months ago and she hadn’t seen Clark since. She couldn’t get over the fear that somehow Tempus was involved.

For the first weeks she had been almost frantic in her efforts to locate him. She had been calling STAR Labs several times a day, but they were no help at all. Since she had returned to the Planet she had developed a new set of contacts within the MPD. She contacted Inspector Marlowe and asked him to use his contacts both in the US and Canada to initiate a search.

As time went on she became more and more discouraged, but she determined that if Clark could wait for her for ninety years she could do the same for him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After six months had elapsed, one day Lois was at STAR Labs doing some follow-up on a story and was in the Solar Energy lab interviewing the head of the lab when a tech shouted from the other side of the room, “Dr. Branson, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we just started receiving telemetry from that electronics package that we asked Superman to deploy six months ago.”

“What? How can that be? That signal terminated unexpectedly when Superman flew into the aurora.”

“All I know is that all of the sudden we are receiving a signal.”

“Send the recall signal. Use the audio link to ask Superman to bring the module back here.”

Lois was a very interested observer to all of this. She looked at Dr. Branson with a hopeful expression. Could it be possible? Could Clark be alive? She remembered his note and this fit. She asked, “What does this mean?”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out. Let’s finish this interview while we wait.”

When they finished the interview Lois said, “Dr. Branson, I’d like to be here when Superman returns. He’s been gone for six months and if he’s back, it’s newsworthy.”

As he was exiting the lab he replied, “I understand. Right place at the right time and all of that. Sure, you can wait here in the lab.”

After a short wait the lab door opened and Dr. Branson hurried back in. He had a shocked expression on his face as he did. He sped across the room, picked up a radiation detector and started for the door again.

Seeing this, Lois was apprehensive and blurted out, “Dr. Branson, what’s going on? What has happened? What have you heard about Superman?”

He said, “This is highly unusual. It will require a significant amount of study. I just hope he allows it.”

Lois couldn’t understand what was going on but his reference left little doubt that Superman had returned. Her heart was screaming for him and she had difficulty restraining herself. She clamped down her emotions and asked, “Would you please inform him that I’m here and ask if he would grant me an interview?”

He nodded in understanding and stepped to the door. Holding up the detector he said, "Just let me check a few things first." He stepped out for just a few seconds and then the door opened again. When Branson stepped back in he was standing directly between Lois and the door opening but Lois still caught a glimpse of a familiar blue leg and red boot as it came through the doorway.

Lois was instantly on her feet and almost running to the door but stopped abruptly when he stepped around Branson. This wasn’t Clark, the Clark she knew. Not the Clark that had left her six months ago. This was a younger version of him. She found her voice and choked out, “Dr. Branson, is this a clone or what?”

Dr. Branson replied, “We’ll know in half an hour. He provided a DNA sample. It’s being mapped. We’ll compare it to the stored record.”

This apparition turned to Branson and said, “Please clear the room. I need to speak with Ms. Lane … privately.”

Nodding in understanding Branson turned to his support staff and said, “You heard the man. Clear out.” When the last individual had moved out through the door Branson also left, closing the door behind himself.

When the door was closed Superman crossed to Lois, put his arms around her and said, “No, my love, I’m not a clone and I don’t need a DNA mapping to prove it. When I left that night, I left you a note by the coffee maker explaining that I had to fly a science package into the aurora.”

His expression became one of joy as he continued, “Something very strange and wonderful happened. As you know, my powers are derived from sunlight and the fact that these were unusually violent solar flares must be the reason they affected me so. The unusually intense solar flares hyper excited my body. Since they are an intense form of solar radiation the flares rejuvenated me. I’m young again, just like you. We can now have a lifetime together. The life we were supposed to have had ninety years ago!"

Looking up into his young again face with a questioning look she asked, "Why did it take you so long to get back?"

"The reason I was gone was the electronics package they wanted flown through the aurora. The ionization of the solar flares interacted with the electronics I was carrying. That interaction opened a portal right in front of me and I couldn’t avoid passing through. That portal sent me six months into the future.”

With a wicked grin and a raised eyebrow he asked, “Do you think the Planet will let you have time off for your long delayed honeymoon?”

With a wicked little grin of her own and an arched eyebrow matching his, Lois asked, “How can you be so sure I want to spend this lifetime with you?” At his look of shocked dismay she couldn’t keep a straight face any longer. She started to giggle and said, “Come here you lunkhead. There is no one else I’d want to spend every possible lifetime with,” and throwing her arms around his neck she gave him a kiss like they hadn’t been able to share for ninety years.

As her body melded to his she knew that they would finally be consummating their marriage the proper way. She couldn’t wait. She still had that teddy that she hadn’t been able to use.

She whispered in his ear, “I’ve got news for you buster. We’re not waiting for Hawaii. How quickly can you get us home?”

“I think, for the sake of appearances I will need to meet you. We need to come up with a plausible explanation for a young Clark showing up.”

“We’ll deal with that second. We have something else to do that’s more important. I’ll type up this story later,” she gave him a come-hither look, “after we consummate our wedding. I think we’re overdue.” With a final wink she put her Reporter's Assistant in her bag, threw the strap over her shoulder and headed for the door. She said over her shoulder, “I’ll see you at home, Handsome. Don’t keep me waiting any longer than necessary.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 8

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was several hours and twilight before Clark was able to get away from STAR Labs, but when he did, thanks to the DNA mapping that had been done previously, he had the necessary certificates attesting to the fact that he was indeed the real Superman.

He had undergone a whole battery of tests so that STAR Labs could try to determine just how the solar radiation had effected his rejuvenation. They had taken many readings with numerous instruments, most of which he had never seen before. Aside from the one DNA sample, however, he refused any other biological samples.

After doing a victory lap around the city he hastened to the Wisteria Lane house. By the time he arrived it was almost dark and he landed without being seen. He spun out of the Suit into casual clothes. His step was light and eager as he crossed the back yard to the door. As he crossed the yard he stopped at the arbor and plucked some roses. He removed the thorns so that she wouldn’t be stuck and carried them in his hand as he completed the trip to the door.

With his superhearing he picked up Lois’ heartbeat upstairs and headed in that direction. Not wanting to shock her by his sudden appearance he, by the strength of his will even though it was a struggle because his emotions wanted it otherwise, kept his feet on the stairs rather than float all the way to the second floor. He knew that the tread third from the top would squeak if he put weight on it and he made sure that he did. As soon as that squeak was heard by her he heard her heartbeat speed up. She knew that he was home.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lois had gone straight home. The first thing she did when she entered the house was check her appearance in a mirror. When she did she saw that she was flushed with excitement and anticipation. She hoped that it wouldn’t be too evident over the video link when she placed her call. Thinking, <Oh, well, it is what it is,> she pulled out her Reporter’s Assistant and used it to place the call to Frank Edwards, the Editor in Chief of the Daily Planet. As soon as she saw his face on the screen, with some trepidation she said, “Frank, Lois Lane, listen, uh, something, uh, something’s come up. I know that it’s rather short notice and I’ve only been back at the Planet for about a year, but, I think I have some vacation accrued by now and, well, I … I need to take the next two weeks off. Can you let me have the time?”

She could see his surprised expression as Frank replied, “What?? Two weeks?!?!? Yeah, this is short notice.” Realizing that he would need a good reason to deny her request he asked, “Well, let’s see, what have you been working on?”

“Well, you see Frank, that’s just it. I was doing the follow-up on that unexplained solar eclipse story and something unexpected happened at STAR Labs while I was there. I got a story that you are not going to believe because I hardly believe it myself and the best part is that I didn’t even have to chase it. It came to me. Hold onto your hat! Would you believe that Superman has returned, and get this … he’s young again!”

“What??? Are you sure? He’s been gone for six months! Young again!?!? How could that be? Are you sure this isn’t a clone somebody created? Did you get any pictures?”

Chagrined because she had been so taken up with what had happened to her husband that she had failed to think like a reporter, she replied, “Oh, no, no I didn’t. Darn! I’ll have to get some for a follow-up,” Lois replied with confidence. “As to the other, they have mapped his DNA at STAR Labs and compared it to the mapping they had on file. He’s the genuine article all right. That science mission STAR Labs sent him on six months ago was the cause of him being missing. Tell you what, I’ll write the story up and e-mail it to you for tomorrow’s edition along with the follow-up on the eclipse thing.”

“This is a coup for sure. I just wish you had gotten at least one picture. Do you think he is still at STAR Labs? Where are you now? Could you go back and get a picture?”

This was taking longer than Lois wanted it to. She needed to get ready for Clark’s arrival. She needed to terminate this call, but she didn’t want Frank to think she was blowing him off. Lois replied, “I don’t know, he might be, but I’m already at home and he’d probably be gone by the time I could get back there.”

Frank replied, “Well, it would be better with pictures, but we’ll have to go with what you have. File this story and scoop the STAR and you can have the two weeks off that you asked for.”

She smiled as she replied, “You’ve got it, Frank. I’ll send it off before the morning edition deadline. Thanks!”

“I’ll look for your copy. Good job!” Suddenly something from her history came back to him and before she could break the connection Frank said, “Hey wait a minute. Weren’t you and Superman really close, you know, back in the day? Is that why you’re so excited? Is that why you need two weeks off? What about Clark?”

She knew that she had to deflect this somehow and she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “Oh, well, we’re both good friends of his. We will both be spending time with him.”

“Won’t that be kind of awkward, Clark being old and him being young again, like you?”

Lois decided that it was time to end this conversation so she decided to attack, “Just what are you implying, Frank? I love my husband. Superman is an old friend and that’s all. Clark is as happy for him as I am.”

Frank, on the defensive now said, “Okay, okay, don’t get upset. I didn’t mean anything. I was just thinking of Clark.”

Appearing somewhat mollified, Lois replied, “Okay, I’ll pass on your concerns to Clark. Good night Frank.”

“Good night Lois. I’ll look for your copy.” She broke the connection.

That being accomplished she set her Reporter’s Assistant aside. Now she would be able to concentrate on her young again husband. She wanted to set the mood, but wary of what had happened before, she did everything she could think of to prevent a repeat of the last time. She was worried even though it was like worrying about lightning striking twice in the same spot. But, still, with Tempus you never could tell.

Trying to look in all directions at once, her head acted like it was on a swivel as she dug into her lingerie drawer and pulled out the black teddy. It was as good as the day she had purchased it. She held it up in front of her as she checked herself in the mirror. She decided that she was going to have to be extra careful. She needed to have eyes in the back of her head to prevent herself getting caught off guard. In order to do that she decided that she would have to keep at least one eye on a mirror the entire time she changed so that Tempus couldn’t sneak up on her again.

First she retrieved some scented candles from a bathroom cabinet and placed them around the room. Then she turned down the bed and fluffed up the pillows.

She looked around the room and decided that the room was ready and since it could possibility be some time yet before Clark returned home, she picked up her Reporter’s Assistant again and checked the time display. Deciding that she probably had sufficient time she used the dictation function to convert her spoken words into text, she spoke her story into the device. Once she was finished she keyed the Assistant to read back the stories using the text to speech function so that she could see how they sounded. Listening to it she found the inevitable typos and homonyms and corrected them before sending the stories to Frank’s inbox.

Giving the time display a final check, she felt satisfied that that chore hadn’t taken all that long so she shut down her Assistant and put it away in her bag. She couldn’t afford to have a call come in and activating the camera, catch them in an intimate embrace. With a physical shudder she thought about what the sleeze rags wouldn’t give for an image of Clark as a young again Superman making love to Lois Lane.

It was time to prepare for her husband’s arrival. She went into the bathroom carrying only the teddy. After hanging the teddy on the back of the door she started the shower. She hoped that Tempus, if he showed up again, would at least be gentleman enough that he wouldn’t snatch her away, in the nude, from her shower. She normally took quick showers when she was preparing for work, but this evening she beat that record. She was very thankful that she had kept her hair short because it only took a few minutes with the hair dryer for her to finish up. She put the teddy on and moved into the bedroom.

Since she remained on the alert she felt comfortable that if Tempus showed up again, as long as he didn’t have that chrome plated automatic he liked so much, she could take care of him; after all he did hit like a girl.

Crossing to her vanity she picked up a bottle of a lightly scented perfume and applied a few drops here and there. After the heat of the shower she was just the slightest bit cool so she grabbed a gauzy black shawl and watched herself in the mirror as she draped it over her shoulders fussing with it and rearranging it several times until she had it just right.

She looked around the room and at the clock then out the window. She thought to herself, <Where is he? He’d better not have disappeared again!> Suddenly she heard that creaky stair tread. She thought, <He’s here! Am I ready? Candles!> As she finished up she thought, <What if it isn’t him! Could it be an intruder? Should I call for Superman?>

Then she heard his soft voice, “Lois? I’m home. Can I come in?”

At the sound of his voice she could feel a flock of butterflies take wing in her stomach. She choked out, “Just a minute!” She rushed around lighting the candles. As she finished up she turned off the lights and thought, <Okay, everything looks ready.> Quickly moving over to the doorway to the bathroom she took a sexy pose in the doorway and said, in a sultry tone, “Come in.”

The door slowly opened.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Once he placed his weight on that step he knew that she had heard him because her heart rate went into overdrive. He climbed the final steps and then moved over closer to the door and listened. He said, “Lois? I’m home. Can I come in?”

In response he heard her breathless reply, “Just a minute!”

Resisting the urge to use his x-ray vision to peek, he waited patiently. He heard the sharp rasp of a match and then he heard her scurrying around the room. A few seconds later his nose picked up the scent from the candles. There was the sharp click of the light switch and then he heard her cross the room.

Finally he heard, “Come in.”

He reached for the door knob and turning it opened the door.

What greeted him from across the room was the vision of Lois wearing the teddy and shawl, looking very sexy in the doorway to the bathroom. He stepped into the room and brought the flowers out from behind his back.

She said, “Flowers? For me? You shouldn’t have.”

She started to move and he stopped her with a gesture and said, “Don’t move. Not yet. I just want to drink in the sight of you, my beautiful wife, my bride.”

Blushing under his gaze she watched as he moved over to the bureau and faster than the eye could follow he pulled out and spin changed into black sleep shorts and matching top. Suddenly her eyes were drawn to splashes of color on the bed and looking that way realized that he had strewn the rose petals atop the bed and also in a path from where she stood to the bed.

When she looked back he was in front of her with his hand outstretched. She took it and he led her over to the bed where she turned and sat on the edge. She kicked off her heels, threw her shawl over the end of the bed and gracefully sat on the edge of the bed, lifted her legs and spun around so that she could lie down on the pillow.

She watched as he slowly moved to the other side and lay down, moving over next to her. She looked into his eyes and saw reflected in them the smoldering fires of passion mirroring her own; a passion that had been long delayed in being fulfilled. He rolled on his side facing her and she reached for his hand. He allowed her to do with it what she willed and she willed that it cup her breast so she slowly brought his hand over and placed it on her right breast. She heaved a sigh as his hand actually came in contact. She turned her head to face him and he moved in and started a slow languid kiss as he gently massaged her breast. Once the kiss started she immediately wanted more and moved to deepen the kiss. Teasing his lips with her tongue until they parted and she was granted entry. Their tongues performed a dance of their own to a silent tune. She felt his hand move up and slide the right strap off of her shoulder and her breath started to come more rapidly in anticipation. She felt his hand as it slid the strap off of her shoulder and down her arm baring her right breast in the process. Then his hand was cupping her bare breast. Her breathing was becoming even more rapid and a little ragged as she was becoming more aroused.

While he had been doing this to her, her hands had not been idle. She had been exploring his chest and back, all of the planes and ridges. In a husky voice she said, “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

"We’ve both waited, but we need wait no longer, my love. It has been too long. We have a lot of lost time to make up for."

Lois shrugged out of the other strap and lay there as he slowly peeled the teddy from her body.

She was moving as one in a dream, a dream driven by her lust for her husband, a lust that had waited uncounted years to be satisfied. Her head was shaking from side to side as the tension built within her body. This fulfillment of her long delayed desires was almost more than she could handle. She was out of her mind with the pleasure created by their joining, the fulfillment of the act.

Her body was as tight as a violin string and vibrating like a tuning fork when suddenly it was like the fourth of July and an entire fireworks display went off behind her eyes. She started to scream her delight, giving voice to the ecstasy she felt.

Their lovemaking was complete and so thoroughly satisfying that she was totally spent and lay on his chest in contentment.

After a time she recovered enough to turn her head and start kissing the side of his face and neck.

It had been a little more rushed than she had wanted but totally enjoyable and there would be ample opportunity for slow. This was only the first time. There would be many, many more.

She was about to move when she first realized just what had happened. She had been on top of Clark and he had floated them up nearly to the ceiling. Looking down at the bed she giggled and asked, "Do I have this to look forward to all the time?"

Smiling he replied, "I don't know. Maybe only when I'm this happy." He slowly floated them back down to the bed.

As he did, she showered him with kisses and he gave as good as he got while she lay next to him. As they continued to kiss he was stroking and petting her in a very possessive yet gentle way which she loved. They both drifted off to sleep, arms and legs entwined.

After a while, when they both awoke they had a slow, sweet encounter. Lois knew fulfillment, total happiness and total love for the first time in her life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 9

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next day Superman showed up at STAR Labs and asked to speak again with the head researcher, Dr. Branson.

After being shown back to his office, Superman didn’t waste any time, “Dr. Branson I have an unusual request to make.”

“What do you want Superman? If STAR Labs can help you in any way, we want to.”

“I appreciate that doctor. It is my understanding that the life force transfer machine that Veeda Doodsen used on me back in the 1990s is here in storage. Is that correct?”

“Ahhhhh yes, *that* machine. Yes, it is. That is a very strange machine. Some years ago we ran some trials on it. The concept was intriguing. We ran some animal studies with it and have found it to be promising, however it is very dangerous. We haven't as yet been able to overcome the side effect, the rapid aging of the donor. We have even tried cross species experiments. The results were disheartening to say the least. The life force transferred; however the effect was not as great as had been hoped. We've decided that the device is too dangerous to use. We have halted all testing."

"Doctor, I've been a donor and that was a successful operation. I would like to borrow the device. I have one final use for it."

"Do you think that is wise Superman? You will lose a portion of your life force. Of course, with the way things are now that may no longer be an issue."

“What do you mean doctor?”

“The data from the studies we performed when you returned has been analyzed and we have found some interesting facts. We have known for years that your powers originate with the Earth’s sun. We were able to compare that data with readings taken years ago. There have been some significant changes. The energy levels we read recently dwarf the previous readings. We checked the dates that the previous readings were taken and it appears as though they were done after the Veeda Doodsen incident. As a result of your exposure to the extreme solar flares we experienced a little over six months ago your body was not only recharged and rejuvenated, your body was super charged. Your body’s energy reserves are no longer in the depleted state they had been since the machine was used.”

“Can you explain that in simpler terms, doctor?”

“It means that you now have energy to spare. It’s like this. Imagine your body is a battery and your battery has been on half charge for years and not able to fully recharge because some of the cells were damaged. Well, now, those cells have been repaired and recharged, in fact they are carrying an overload. When we measured your aura, instead of extending only millimeters out from your skin it now extends out centimeters. It is much more intense. Still, you would be giving up a portion of that if you used that machine again and became the donor.”

Elated at what he was hearing, but managing to control himself he asked, "How long will this overload last?"

"We have no way to determine that. It may be depleted as you use your powers in the normal course of your activities. Then again you may remain in this state indefinitely, replenishing your energy from sunlight and maintain these new levels which would then become your new norm."

Superman replied, "Thank you for that information doctor. Still, I can see no other way to do what needs to be done. I will prepare a lab to which I can transport the device and set it up. If you have no objections I will pick it up tomorrow."

"As long as you know what the risks are, I have no objections. When you come right down to it, we really don't own that machine. We have just been the custodians. You actually have more of a claim to ownership because it was used on you."

"Thank you, doctor. I'll be back tomorrow."

The next day Superman picked up the device and took it to the Wisteria Lane home and placed it in the basement.

Later that same day a young Clark Kent made his debut, claiming that Superman had used the device to rejuvenate him.

Lois and Clark finally departed for their long delayed honeymoon in Hawaii.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The years passed happily for Lois and Clark. After only a year Lois became pregnant. In 2089, their first child was born. It was a boy and they named him Clark Junior.

A year later, in 2090, Penelope (Penny) was born. In fairly rapid order there were six additional children which came as three sets of twins.

The first hint that there was a problem was with Penny’s birth. Clark Junior had been a week premature, but this was not unheard of, in fact it was still within the expected range for full term. Penny, however was another story entirely. Penny was four weeks premature, but when born was fully developed. Thinking there could have been an error in the timing they didn’t worry about this for very long.

With Sam and Ellen’s birth in 2091 questions were starting to be raised. They were born fully eight weeks premature. Initially this didn't raise any eyebrows either because frequently in multiple births the babies are delivered early, but like their siblings they showed complete development unlike other eight week preemies. Their development was that of full term babies.

STAR Labs was consulted and they began studying Lois. There was another unusual phenomena noticed. There was less and less time between pregnancies.

In 2092 the births of Sean and Celeste Kent were ten weeks premature and yet they showed full development as had all of their siblings. STAR Labs intensified their testing.

By the time Joel and Lara, their last children, were born the duration of the pregnancy was only twenty-four weeks. Because of the shortness of time between delivery and conception coupled with the shortened gestation this final set of twins were also delivered in 2092.

Physiologically, Lois in 2102, would have been forty-five years old, however, by 2102 Lois’ hair had started graying and she had been developing laugh/worry lines which is to say age wrinkles and shortly after Joel and Lara’s birth Lois experienced the early onset of menopause. Normally this would have occurred much later in her life. This became yet another data point for STAR Labs.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As time went on other strange things started happening. Lois experienced an early onset of arthritis and osteoporosis. These diseases are usually associated with advanced age. In 2112, when Lois would physiologically been fifty-five, her health started to deteriorate rapidly.

Lois returned to STAR Labs and after two days of testing Lois and Clark were called into Dr. Branson’s office. After they were seated Dr. Branson looked up from the file he had spread out on his desk. He said, “There’s no reason to beat about the bush and every reason not to do so. What we have found is very disturbing. We have found that Lois’ body has been infused with an unknown form of energy. Because of the effect it is having on her body we have dubbed it, for want of a better term, Chrono-energy because it seems to be causing time to accelerate in her body. She is aging rapidly and earlier than she should. That explains the shortening of her pregnancies. The Chrono-energy was accelerating the development of the children in the womb. Our only conclusion is that it must have something to do with her disappearance. It is like her body is trying to move to the age she should be if not for the event of her kidnapping.”

Not liking what they were hearing, Clark reached for and took Lois’ hand in his, “Doctor, what is the prognosis?”

The doctor could see how they were taking this information. He was sorry that he didn’t have a better way to tell them. He shook his head in dismay as he continued, “Not good. The deterioration is accelerating. Within a year Lois will die of old age if we can’t find a way to drain off this Chrono-energy and even if that is done there is no guarantee that the effects will be reversed. In a worst case scenario Lois will be dead in less than twelve months. A better scenario has her stabilized at this point and living the rest of a normal, or as normal as is possible, life from this point. The best scenario would be complete recovery. The problem is that since we really don’t know the nature of the energy itself we have no way of knowing how to drain it off.”

In a weakened voice, Lois said, “Thank you doctor for being honest with us. At least this way we know.”

Dr. Branson said, “We will continue to try to find an answer for you.”

With a very determined tone, Clark said, “Thank you doctor for your diagnosis. I guess it’s up to us now. We are going to try to find our own answer.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After they were home Clark with anger and disgust evident in his voice spat out, “Tempus! It must be because he kept you in that active time portal for all of that time. The exposure to those energies is what has done this to you.”

Lois put her hand on his arm and in her weakened, frail voice said, “We’ll find a solution. We always do.”

Clark looked at her and with sadness in his voice asked, “How can we fix this when we can’t even be sure how it happened?”

Lois tried to encourage him, “Somebody once said, ‘Love will find a way.’ And we have enough love for a hundred couples. We’ll find a way. I believe in us.”

For the next four months all Clark could do was watch the love of his life deteriorate. By this time Lois was wheelchair bound. The children, who were all in college at this time, spent as much time as they could with their mother because they couldn’t be sure just how much time they would have.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Finally one day a few weeks later, Clark came to Lois and kneeling in front of her wheelchair said, “I think I have a possible solution. It’s risky, but, what choice do we have?”

“Clark, if there’s a chance, I think we need to take it. What is it?”

In a less than hopeful tone he said, “Come with me.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 10

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He picked her up and carried her downstairs to the basement. After placing her in a chair he flipped on the lights.

Lois was amazed to see Veeda Doodsen’s machine all set up. She goggled at it and vehemently shouted, it didn't come out quite as strongly as she had wished, but that was only because of her body's frailty, “No! No way. I’m not going to be the cause of that happening to you again. I don’t care what happens to me. The world needs you. It doesn’t need me.”

“Lois, I spent ninety years without you by my side. I don’t want to spend one more minute without you, besides; you’ve forgotten what I was told. I should be able to use it without it affecting me.” He continued, with tears in his eyes, “Even if it did shorten my life, it is a sacrifice I would gladly make if it means I will have you with me longer.”

He could see her shaking her head in the negative.

Deciding to continue to press his point he said, “You might not think that the world needs you, but I surely do. Look at it this way, the world needs me and I need you, QED the world needs Lois Lane. Please, let me do this.”

With a feeble shake of her head but with a voice still filled with resolution she said, “I can’t ask you to do that.”

In a serious tone he said, “You don’t need to ask. I’m telling you it’s what I want to do.”

That was when Penny came down the steps.

Lois asked, “Penny, what are you doing here?”

“Dad called and said he needed some help.”

Lois looked at Clark with an accusatory expression and said, “You’ve had this planned, haven’t you. You weren’t really asking me if I wanted to do this, you were telling me that you were going to do it. Well, I won’t have it. You can’t force me to do this against my will.”

Clark knelt in front of her and with tears in his eyes said, “Lois, please let me do this. You don’t know how much it tears me up inside to see you like this. I … I can’t bear to watch you failing right in front of my eyes especially when there is something I can do to stop it and maybe make you better. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you - again.”

Penny knew that she was Lois’ favorite daughter and even though, normally she wouldn’t have, in this instance was willing to use that knowledge to her advantage. She knelt in front of her mother and with tears in her eyes also said, “Mom, we all talked it over and Dad’s right. We all volunteered to give you some of our life force, but, Dad said he was the one that could most afford it. As he put it, his batteries actually could stand to be drained a little.”

Wiping a tear from her cheek, Penny continued, “Please, Mom, do this for all of us. We don’t want to lose you.”

Lois put her hand on Penny’s wet cheek and was moved. With tears in her own eyes, she relented. She said, “Okay, if you all feel this strongly about it, how can I say no?”

Penny burst out in a new flood of tears, this time tears of joy as she said in a hushed tone, “Thanks Mom, from all of us.” Once she had settled down she turned to Clark and said, “Okay Pop, let’s do this.”

Clark picked up Lois and placed her into the chamber to receive the life force. After closing the chamber he moved over and sealed himself into the donor chamber. He said to Penny, “Okay, kiddo. You know what to do.”

Penny threw the necessary switches and moved the lever to start the process.

It had no sooner started than there was a problem. Energy bolts like lightning started arching from point to point on the equipment creating a light show of magnificent proportions.

Seeing this Clark cried out, “Lois!” He was remembering when he had given up his life force to Conner Schenk and the same apparent malfunction had occurred and what had happened to him. He cried out, “Penny! Penny! Shut it down! Please Penny, shut it down. Hurry!”

Penny moved to comply but even as she did the display reached a crescendo and when Penny hit the final switch it finally started to fade.

Penny zipped over to Clark and opened his cylinder. Clark deliberately avoided looking at the other cylinder because he was afraid that he would see Lois as an infant lying on the bottom of her cylinder. He said, to Penny, “I can’t look. How’s your Mom?”

Penny looked at Lois’ cylinder and saw that it had filled with smoke but that it was slowly clearing. She said, “Pop, her cylinder is filled with smoke. Was that expected?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.”

“The smoke is slowly clearing. I think I still see her standing there.”

“Are you sure??? She hasn’t turned into an infant?”

“No, there she is. I can see her more clearly now.”

Clark looked and shouted, “Lois!”

Her hands were up covering her face; presumably she had put them up to protect her eyes from the light discharges. Clark was worried because she kept them there even though the light show was over.

Clark opened her chamber and she fell out into his arms and she was limp as a wet dishrag. The first thing he noticed was that her hair had returned to its rich brown color. Her hands finally fell away from her face. Clark was elated when he saw her face for the first time. It was unwrinkled and as smooth as a baby’s skin and she was young again.

Penny stuck close as he carried an unconscious Lois upstairs and placed her in their bed. When he laid his burden down Penny finally was able to ask, “How are you, Pop? Any affect from the procedure?”

“I don’t think so, but it will take a trip to STAR Labs to be sure.” He had been unable to take his eyes off of Lois the entire time. He continued, “Look at her. She looks the same as the day we first met. I wonder how she’ll feel when she wakes up.”

“Yeah, she looks younger than she did in the pictures you took of her and CJ when he was born. Pop, I’m going to go back downstairs and make sure the device is all shut down. I’ll be right back.”

He stopped her before she could exit and said, “Thanks Penny. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Turning to her father and throwing her arms around him giving him a super hug she said, “Pop, you would have done the same thing for me. That’s just what love is. We all know how much you love Mom. We all love her too, but with us it’s different. She’s our mother but, to you, she’s your soul mate. That’s an even closer bond. We understand. We all wanted this. As soon as I finish up downstairs, I need to head on home. Rich will be expecting me to be there. I think he's going to be popping the question soon, which means I'll be bringing him in one the family secret."

With some concern in his voice Clark asked, "You're sure he's the one? It's a big step, bringing him in on the secret."

She moved over and gave her dad another hug and said, "Don't worry Pop, I've been careful. I've known from the time we first met that he was the one, the same way you knew that Mom was the one," before she turned away and headed downstairs.

Clark moved over and lay down next to his wife. Neither one noticed when Penny left because they were both asleep. Between giving up some of his life force and the emotional strain Clark was also exhausted.

Clark woke up to the feel of Lois’ hand on his chest. He opened his eyes to see her coffee colored orbs looking into his. He asked, “How do you feel?”

She seemed to take a self-inventory before she responded, “Better than I’ve felt in years. Thank you. I just hope you haven’t given up too much.”

“It would be impossible to give up too much for you. I’d give my life for you.”

“I hope that you know that the reverse is true.”

As he moved in for a kiss he said, “I do.”

With a wicked little grin she said, “That sounds to me like you are repeating your vows. Only the kiss came second.” She reached down and taking his hand in hers guided it to her breast. She released a contented sigh and said, “It’s been a couple of years. I think we are due. No, we are overdue. Let’s go take a long, leisurely shower and see where that leads.”

“That sounds wonderful to me.” He stood and assisted her to her feet. She kicked off her shoes and padded barefoot into the bathroom with Clark close behind.

They helped each other disrobe and then they climbed into the shower together. After washing each other they took turns each drying the other and still nude headed back into the bedroom. After turning down the covers they cuddled up together and started kissing.

Their kisses deepened and their hands roamed all over each other stroking, squeezing and tweaking as was appropriate. This started a period of marital intimacy. Suddenly Clark was startled into immobility. Even though his body was telling him to move, he couldn’t. He couldn’t believe what was happening. They had slowly started to float

First just a couple of inches and eventually they were near the ceiling. Lois opened her eyes and said, “Oh, I didn’t realize you had floated us up here. It’s just like old times.”

With a look of consternation he said, “Lois, I didn’t float us up here.”

“You didn’t??? Then how did we get here?”

“Well, if it wasn’t me, who does that leave?”

Shocked she blurted out, “What!?!?!?!? Are you saying that I’m doing this?”

“That is the *only* other possibility.”

“But, how can that be? I lost my Ultra Woman powers a long time ago.”

“It has to have something to do with the life force transfer. Dr. Branson told me that my super batteries were over charged. Between that, the Chrono-energy and the way Doodsen’s machine acted, anything’s possible.”

He asked, "Can I look forward to this every time we make love?"

There was a giggle in her reply as she threw his words back at him, "I don't know. Maybe only when I'm this happy."

They floated back down to the bed and in the afterglow of their lovemaking they lay together arms and legs entwined they discussed the possibilities of the return of Ultra Woman. After a while they got up and she dug out her old uniform and tried it on for size. Since it was spandex, there was no question of it fitting and she modeled it for him. He spun into his Suit and asked, “Who’s up for dinner in Paris?”

With a smile she said, “I just might be.”

Smiling he said, “Wait just a minute.” He sent out a mental summons, /Kids!/

He got back a smattering of replies, and then he sent, /The procedure worked, better than expected. Let’s meet in Paris at the base of the Eifel Tower in half an hour. Make sure you are all in uniform. You’re not going to believe this./

Clark Junior replied for the rest of the kids, /Sure thing Pop! We’ll all be there. We should be able to make it a late night if you want. I don’t think any of us have early classes tomorrow./

/That’s good! This calls for a celebration./

Lois gave him a look. He had excluded her from the call so she had not heard it, but knew he was up to something. She said, “Okay, what gives?”

“Oh, nothing. Let’s make sure the house is locked up and the oven is off before we leave.”

After his little delaying tactic they took off for Paris. Midway across the Atlantic he said, “Let’s stop at the Eifel Tower before we find a café.”

Now she knew something was up, but she decided to humor him. As they approached Paris she used her telescopic vision and zoomed in on the Eifel Tower. What she saw warmed her heart and brought a tear to her eye. All eight of the kids were there cheering, welcoming her.

That was when Ultra Woman made her return debut.

The next day they had gone to STAR Labs and they had confirmed her powers and assured her that they were permanent.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Epilogue

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the far distant future of this universe, Tempus appeared to pop out of thin air as he stepped through the time window. It was only seconds since he had left and turning around he resumed his seat on the bench. He looked around expectantly. He didn’t know just how the changes would occur he just knew that there should be some changes. At the very least there should be some litter. He had kidnapped Lois Lane and moved her ninety years into her future when there would be no possibility of Clark Kent being able to father any super offspring, but there were no discernible changes. In fact, if anything, the area was perhaps a little more neat and clean than it had been before he had taken his trip.

There were still families picnicking. Wait, didn’t that family have six children a minute ago? He counted noses and came up with a different number, seven??? There were still children playing and couples strolling, hand in hand. It was positively bucolic and nauseating.

Suddenly a young girl on a hoverboard zoomed past at a high rate of speed. That in itself was not too surprising, however a boy on skates was chasing her and he was moving faster than a child should be able to on skates. As he watched, fascinated, the boy put on an extra burst of speed, moving almost faster than the eye could follow, zipping past the girl who jumped off the board and took off after him on foot at superspeed.

<How can that be?!?!? This is going to require some research,> he thought. Hastily he pulled out a data-link and performed a historical search for Lois Lane and Clark Kent. He sent the data to the heads-up display on the right lens of his glasses.

He was surprised at the amount of data that was in the data banks as evidenced by the time it took to collect it all.

As fast as he could he started reading and as he did he simply got madder and madder. It turned out that somehow Superman had been rejuvenated and had reunited with Lois. One result of their later union was that there had been eight children instead of the five they had had before his interference. The difference was three sets of twins. Instead of preventing Utopia he had only delayed their having children for ninety years but then they had had more than made up for the delay and that fact had actually hastened the creation of Utopia. Something else caught his eye. What was that entry? He scrolled back up to it. As he read he thought, <There was another Superhero? Ultra Woman? Who was that? Is there a picture?>

As he hit some additional keys trying to find a picture. Finally he found one and didn’t recognize her, because she was wearing a mask, he thought to himself, <Now, there’s irony.>

If, instead of going for the irony and returning her to him when he supposedly couldn’t father any children, had he simply dropped her off in another universe, this wouldn’t have happened.

As he looked past his research he saw a couple of TTEMPO field agents approaching. They were always so easy to identify. They thought that they blended in, but they really stuck out like a sore thumb. They were almost as bad as Herb, who always dressed in that old fashioned suit and bowler hat. <God, what a fashion statement.> If he was going to have another chance at preventing Utopia he would have to leave, quickly.

He pulled out his time window device and keyed in a random number. But before hitting the execute button he noticed a couple strolling towards him hand in hand and at sight of them he became instantly fearful.

The man was wearing a Superman uniform. A closer perusal disclosed the fact that it was in very fact Clark Kent and the woman at his side was also wearing a super uniform and he recognized her as Ultra Woman.

He was actually not too surprised to see that it *was* Lois Lane! <She was the female superhero!!! How did it happen?????>

Then he saw them look over at the picnicking family who were all waving. That wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that they would be recognized but then he heard, “Mom! Dad! Come on over and join us!”

It was then that he realized just how wrong his plan had turned out and muttered to himself, “Oh well, better luck next time,” then he stepped through the time window and disappeared from this universe just ahead of the TTEMPO agents.

As he stepped through he thought, < I’m not too surprised to see that she doesn’t bother to wear the mask anymore. After all, now there are thousands of super offspring!>

The end

The following story –

“Birthday Surprise”

by – Thomas Mc

was Nominated in the:

Best Revelation Story

Best Original/Supporting Character

and

Best New Author

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Birthday Surprise

By Thomas Mc <thomas52mcc@yahoo.com>

Rated: PG

Submitted: April 2013

Summary: On a boring Tuesday evening Kristen has to spend her birthday working by herself at the music store. Then the most popular boy on campus comes into the store and things take a very unusual turn.

**Author's Notes:* I do not usually write Lois and Clark stories but the idea for this little 'short' story just came out of left field one day and demanded my attention. Once I began writing it the thing just began to grow and grow until what started out to be a short little vignette snowballed into a much longer and more complicated story. So, for what it's worth, here is my second Lois and Clark story.*

*Just a little shout out to Nan Smith: This story was inspired by the incident of the waitress with the green bracelet in her "Home' series, but the incident in my story involves different characters and goes in a radically different direction.*

*This story starts many years after the end of the series and involves Lois and Clark's oldest son.*

**Disclaimer*: This story is based on the television series "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman". The recognizable characters and settings in this story are the property of D.C. Comics, Warner Bros., December 3rd Productions, and anyone else with a legal right to them, and I have no claim on them whatsoever, nor am I profiting by their use. The story, however, is a product of my own imagination. No infringement on copyrights is intended. This story is presented merely for the enjoyment of fans. *

***

Chapter 1

Kristen glanced around the quiet music store where she was working. It was Tuesday evening and the store was empty except for her. She rested her chin on her hand and sighed as she looked out the front of the store into the nearly empty mall. There were no kids in the store because most of them were at the free concert being given in the park by a currently popular local rock group. Kristen had really wanted to go to that concert but her boss had scheduled her to work nearly every evening this week since he would be out of town. To top it off, Stephanie, who was a senior at her school and was supposed to also be working today, had called in sick so Kristen was here alone tonight. What a lousy way to spend her seventeenth birthday.

Thinking of her birthday brought her attention to her new bracelet. It was a birthday present from her older brother, Christopher, along with the matching necklace and earrings. Her brother was in his first year in college and wanted to go for a degree in geology. He was also an amateur jeweler. By combining his interest in collecting unusual stones with his interest in creating jewelry and his natural artistic flair, he had managed to make a modest amount of spending money by selling his creations. He had also come up with some very beautiful pieces for their mother. The set that he had made for Kristen's birthday had crystals that were her favorite color mounted on silver jewelry that had been shaped into Celtic interlacing designs. The resulting pieces were exquisitely beautiful.

Christopher looked nothing like an artistic craftsman. He was six foot five and built like a football linebacker. In fact, he did love football and was going to college on a football scholarship as a linebacker on the varsity team. Kristen was barely five foot even and very slender of build, with long wavy brown hair and dark eyes set in a delicate pixie-like face. At first glance, those that didn't know her would have taken her for thirteen or fourteen years old. Two more mismatched siblings would be hard to find, yet they had always been very close.

She was brought out of her distracted reverie by the sounds of someone flipping through the CD racks and glanced over toward the front of the store. The Johnson boys were there and the oldest was surreptitiously watching her. Those three were trouble and she knew by the look on the oldest boy's face that they were up to no good (as usual). She picked up the phone, ready to call security if necessary. The oldest boy said something to his two brothers and the three of them turned and walked out of the store, acting all casual and innocent.

A minute later she walked over to where they had been and found a stack of CDs, that had all come from that part of the rack, shoved underneath the rack where they would normally not be noticed. She pulled them out and, after checking that they were still sealed, put them back where they belonged. Well, that had managed to kill a few more minutes of her boring shift. She glanced around and, seeing nothing else to do, went back to the checkout counter and back to her daydreaming.

After a few minutes Kristen was again gazing around the store in boredom. Her gaze fell on the poster of Superboy hanging on the opposite wall and she sighed. They had just gotten in a shipment of those posters last week. She had bought one that same day and it was now hanging on the inside of her bedroom door.

The only good picture of Superboy had been taken by an amateur photographer who had been lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. The photographer had sold the picture for a small fortune and now Kristen was staring at a blown-up two-foot by four-foot copy of that same picture. It had apparently been taken just as Superboy was lifting off. It showed him facing three quarters toward the camera, looking upward, his arm raised and tilted slightly forward, and about a foot above the ground.

Superboy had first appeared about eight months ago during one of the worst thunderstorms in recent history. A light rain had suddenly and unexpectedly transformed into a massive monsoon-level downpour. The suddenness of the terrible storm had taken everyone by surprise and caused a massive chain reaction pileup out on the interstate. Over a hundred cars had been involved. Her own father had been caught in the middle of it, though he had fortunately been unhurt, and the car had only lost a bit of paint from the front bumper and the left rear fender. Emergency crews had been unable get through because of the blocked highway and the heavy rainfall.

Superboy had showed up with Superman. The two of them had quickly transported the paramedics and their emergency equipment to the scene. Then under the paramedics' direction, Superboy had worked on freeing people trapped in their cars, starting with the most seriously injured first. As soon as he got them out of their vehicles the paramedics treated their injuries enough to stabilize them. Meanwhile, Superman had dealt with two tanker trucks that had jackknifed and had started the chain reaction pileup. One carried gasoline, the other liquid oxygen. A very dangerous combination if ever there was one.

Once Superman had dealt with the tanker trucks he began transporting the injured that had been stabilized to the local hospital while Superboy had continued helping the paramedics remove and treat the remaining victims. After all of the injured had been taken care of they had transported the uninjured motorists with disabled vehicles to a local shelter. Finally after all the people that needed help had been taken care of Superman and Superboy had moved all the badly damaged vehicles off to the side of the road.

Superboy's first appearance caused quite a feeding frenzy in the general media and over the next few days several names were suggested in the newspapers for the new young superhero including Superson, Superman Junior, Superman II, Superkid, and Superboy. In the end Superboy had stuck.

Since that time Superboy had appeared about a half dozen times though he had yet to stick around long enough for anyone to interview. The only thing that Superman had said about him was to acknowledge that Superboy was his son. Kristen's mind wandered to the radio report that she had heard on her way to work a few hours ago. While Superman had been busy in West Virginia rescuing a couple of dozen coal miners from a collapsed mine, Superboy had rescued several people from a burning building in uptown Metropolis.

Kristen was thinking that if there was a son of Superman then there must be a wife of Superman somewhere out there. This lead to her picturing herself encircled in Superboy's strong arms as they both lifted off into the sky together. She sighed again. Oh, to dream the impossible dream.

Her attention was drawn back to earth by the sound of someone entering the store. She looked over and was surprised to see the 'other' object of her romantic fantasies as Jonathan Kent entered the store. She sighed again. Jonathan Kent, oldest of the four Kent children, was the most popular senior at her high school. He was one grade ahead of her and the hottest guy on campus, a tall athletic drop-dead hunk with a personality that invited friendship. The rumor was that he was currently going with the head cheerleader but the word was also going around that it was strictly casual and he was still available. She called out a standard greeting to him as he headed toward the back half of the store.

Trying to look casual, Kristen moved out from behind the counter and started straightening the display racks. After a short interval she slowly began working her way toward where Jonathan was browsing the classic rock section. Her heart was pounding as she was desperately trying to get control of her emotions and work up enough nerve to actually speak to him.

As she got closer she saw him start frowning and shake his head a couple of times then his face got very pale. It looked to her like he wasn't feeling well at all. She became afraid the he was going to become very sick right there. Then he swayed and grabbed the edge of the nearest display rack. Kristen's nervousness immediately turned to worry and she quickly approached him, ready to help. "Jonathan, are you OK? You don't look so well."

Jonathan's face twisted in pain. He pitched forward. She reached for him as he fell over, his head bouncing off the edge of the rack, accompanied by a tearing sound. Then his head banged hard on the tile floor as he collapsed. Kristen knelt at his side as she cried out. "*Jonathan!!*" He was lying face down, unmoving on the floor. Oddly enough, in the back of her frantic mind, she noticed a foot long piece of his shirt was hanging from the display rack beside him.

Jonathan's face was turned to the side and his glasses had been knocked askew. His eyes fluttered momentarily then closed. She tentatively reached out and touched him. "Jonathan?" He shifted slightly and emitted a painful groan. She gave his shoulder a gentle nudge. "Jonathan, say something." This time he didn't move. "Oh God Jonathan, please don't die on me." She was beginning to feel the edges of panic as she gently turned him over to see how badly he was hurt. Her mind seemed to have gone numb as she stared uncomprehendingly at what she saw. His glasses slipped halfway off his face and his shirt was ripped wide open showing blue, red and yellow underneath.

Then her eyes went wide and she gasped as she finally comprehended at what she was looking at. Under Jonathan's torn shirt was deep blue spandex with a very familiar red and yellow shield in the center of his chest. She glanced up at the Superboy poster on the wall then back down at Jonathan. This was impossible! It couldn't be! But the resemblance, now that she was aware of it, was uncanny. She reached out to remove the skewed glasses and smoothed his hair back only to see Superboy's face fully emerge.

Jonathan let out a groan as his face screwed up, wincing in pain. This seemed to snap her out of her stunned state. She looked past the CD racks toward the front of the store. She couldn't let anyone see Jonathan -- or Superboy like this. She jumped up and ran over to the front of the store and closed the metal gate. It wouldn't prevent anyone from looking into the store but it would keep anyone from getting close enough to see Jonathan on the floor behind the CD display racks.

She ran back to the checkout counter and picked up the phone to call 911. She stopped after pressing 9 and, shaking her head, hung up the phone. She couldn't call for the paramedics because then they would see what Jonathan was wearing and his secret would get out. They probably wouldn't even know how to treat him anyway. For that matter who would know how to treat a sick Superman? What should she do? Who could she call for help without giving away Jonathan's secret? For a second she considered simply yelling out "Help Superman!" But then she thought better of it. If Superman showed up at the mall it would bring all kinds of unwanted attention.

Then inspiration struck. His parents!

Who would know better how to help Jonathan than his own parents? They surely already knew about his secret. She got the phone number for the News Department of the Daily Planet and called.

A male voice answered. "Daily Planet News Room. James Olsen speaking."

Kristen responded. "Please sir, it's urgent that I speak to Lois Lane or Clark Kent."

The man responded. "May I ask what this is about?"

She paused a moment, debating over what to say. Finally she just blurted out. "It's about their oldest son, Jonathan, he's very ill. Please let me speak to one of them."

There was a pause filled with muffled voices then a female voice came on the line. "This is Lois Lane. Who are you and what is this about my son?"

Kristen took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. "This is Kristen Mathers at the Music Trading Company in the Metro Center Mall. Jonathan was in here when he suddenly passed out in the middle of the store. When he fell he tore open his shirt and after I saw what he was wearing underneath I thought I should call you instead of 911."

There was a gasp at the other end of the line then some more muffled voices. A new male voice spoke. "We'll be right there. Please don't let anyone else near him."

She responded. "The store is empty and I've already closed up the front gate so no one else can come in." She swallowed nervously as she glanced over at Jonathan's barely visible prone body. "Please hurry. He doesn't look so good and I'm scared he could be dying."

"We'll be there as quickly as possible." Then the line went dead.

Kristen paced nervously for several seconds then returned to check on Jonathan. He continued to show signs of feeling pain despite being unconscious and the bruise forming on his forehead looked very nasty. Her mind swirled with questions and guesses. How could he be hurt? Everyone knew that Superman and Superboy were invulnerable. If Jonathan was Superboy then that would mean that his father, Clark Kent, must be Superman. Then the realization finally hit her still dazed mind. Clark Kent was Superman? Superman and Superboy were walking around among them disguised as ordinary people? Could she be mistaken about Jonathan being Superboy? Yet the more she compared the poster to Jonathan the more certain she was that they looked identical. If he really was Superboy then what could have done this to him?

Less than two minutes later she heard a sound at the mall entrance and looked up to see two people standing at the front gate. She recognized Lois and Clark from the posters on the sides of the city buses advertising the 'Hottest Reporting Team in Town'. She cried out in relief as she ran toward the gate to let them in. "Oh, thank goodness you're here."

As she reached the front of the store Jonathan's father suddenly groaned in pain and grabbed at the gate, then collapsed to the floor. "*Clark!*" Lois cried out as she knelt down next to her fallen husband.

***

Chapter 2

Kristen stared down at Mr. Kent in horror for a second. Her right hand came up to her mouth as she backed away from the gate. She ended up in the corner between the wall and the checkout counter.

Lois looked up at Kristen and her eyes got huge. "Where did you get that bracelet?"

Kristen stared back at Lois for a stunned second then she looked uncomprehending at the object in question for another second. "It -- My brother made it for me as a birthday present."

"Get it away from them." Lois demanded.

After a second's hesitation, Kristen glanced around then ran into the office at the back of the store. She looked frantically around the little office, uncertain what she was looking for until she spotted the store floor safe in the back corner of the room. She took off the bracelet and dropped it into the safe. She started for the door then stopped. The matching necklace and earrings! They were made from the same things as the bracelet. She took those off as well and dropped them into the safe. By the time she got back up to the front of the store, Clark Kent was starting to stand up. She approached cautiously but Clark (Superman?) seemed to be rapidly getting better. Kristen quickly opened the gate and let Jonathan's parents in then closed it again.

"What did you do with the bracelet?" Lois asked.

"I put it in the safe back in the office. I didn't know what else to do." Kristen replied as they reached Jonathan who was still lying on the floor unconscious. "Is he going to be all right?" She asked worriedly as she and Lois kneeled down to either side of Jonathan's unconscious body.

Lois looked up at Clark, who was by now looking almost normal. He pulled his glasses down to the end of his nose and stared at Jonathan over the top of them. "Are they back already?" Lois asked Clark.

"Most of them. The exposure was fairly short." Clark replied cryptically as he continued to stare at Jonathan. Finally he relaxed. "He's got a very slight concussion but other than that he should be just fine in a day or two."

Kristen looked at Clark in confusion then it hit her. X-ray vision. Superman could see through things. He could look inside Jonathan's head and see how bad he was hurt. Her eyes got wide as the magnitude of what she now knew really began to sink in. Clark Kent of the Daily Planet was Superman and his son Jonathan was Superboy! And the shiny green stones in her jewelry must be that mythical Kryptonite that she had read about in the tabloids! She was now privy to three very explosive secrets! She suddenly felt the weight of these secrets settle on her very young shoulders.

Lois and Clark both saw the look on her face as those revelations hit her. Kristen looked over at the Kents, who were both looking back at her as her mind swirled with uncertainty. She knew, and they knew that she knew. What would they do about it?

Their attention was drawn to Jonathan as he stirred and groaned. Kristen and Lois both tentatively reached out to touch his shoulder at the same time. "Jonathan, wake up." Lois encouraged. "Are you OK?" Kristen inquired.

Jonathan stirred again. Every joint and muscle in his body ached terribly. He opened his eyes to see both his parents and the pretty girl that worked in the music store looking down at him. He blinked. Why did his whole body hurt so badly? He tried to sit up and groaned from the pain in his joints.

Clark knelt down and placed his hand on Jonathan's shoulder. "Don't move, son. Just lay there for a while. Give your body a few minutes to recover.

Jonathan looked from his father to the pretty girl to his mother. "What happened?"

To everyone's surprise it was the Kristen that answered. "It was my new jewelry. I -- I think it had pieces of Kryptonite in it. When I got too close to you, you collapsed."

Jonathan's eyes opened wide in surprise and fear as he glanced down at his torn shirt and the tell-tale suit underneath it. The girl knew!

"I'm so sorry." Kristen continued. "It's all my fault that this happened to you."

Clark responded. "You shouldn't blame yourself. There's no way you could have known."

Lois jumped in. "Where did you get that bracelet?"

Kristen looked up at Lois. "My brother made it for me as a birthday present."

Clark inquired. "Where did he get the green stones?"

Kristen shook her head. "I don't know for sure. I think he said that he got them at a flea market or something."

Clark turned to Lois. "Honey did you bring that lead lined bag with you?"

In answer she pulled what looked like a clutch purse out of her bag. "I have it right here."

"We need to get rid of that kryptonite." Clark remarked.

Lois responded. "I'll take care of it." She stood up and addressed Kristen. "Show me where you put the bracelet."

Without a second thought Kristen led Lois back to the small office. She was unwilling to get any closer and pointed to the floor safe in the back corner. "It's in there."

"Is it locked?" Lois asked.

Kristen shook her head. "No. I don't know the combination so I left it unlocked."

Lois crouched down and cautiously opened the little floor safe. There in the bottom of the safe she could clearly see the deadly green glow coming from all four pieces of jewelry. She took the glowing jewelry out of the safe and placed it in the lead lined purse. She snapped it closed then looked up to see Kristen watching her with a very forlorn look on her face.

Kristen sighed deeply. "I really loved those pieces. My brother designed them just for me."

Lois stood up and placed one hand sympathetically on her arm. "Don't worry, after I've gotten rid of these crystals I will have a jeweler friend replace them with similar looking stones. It won't glow in the dark any more but other than that, you won't be able to tell the difference." The two of them exited the small office and met Clark and Jonathan over by the checkout counter. Lois held up her bag. "I got all the pieces."

"Good." Clark responded then addressed Kristen seriously. "Kristen, I hope you know that you must not tell anyone what you have learned here tonight."

Kristen shook her head vigorously. "Oh no, sir." She then looked solemnly back at Clark. "I would never tell anyone about you or Jonathan -- I promise."

Clark gave her a half smile then turned to Jonathan and Lois. "It's about time that we were heading home."

Taking the hint, Kristen hurried over and opened the front gate to let them out. She stood there watching as the Kents walked to the nearest exit and out of the mall. She continued to stand there as her gaze shifted to the spot where Clark Kent had collapsed such a short time ago, her mind a maelstrom of swirling thoughts and emotions. After several minutes she shook herself and glanced at the clock. It was eighteen minutes until closing. She looked around. The mall was nearly empty. She shrugged her shoulders and locked up for the night which took about ten minutes.

When she got to her car she fumbled with her keys and dropped them twice. She was shaking from delayed reaction to the evening's events. She leaned against her car and rested her head against the roof. Once she got into her car she rested her forehead against the steering wheel as she tried to calm herself down. Nearly twenty minutes later, after she got herself under better control, she started her car and drove home. She was totally unaware of the lone figure in blue and red standing on the roof of the mall watching over her.

Kristen finally got home just before ten. She found her brother in his workshop working on a new piece of jewelry and engaged him in a conversation about what he was making. Eventually she casually got him onto the subject of the green crystals. He told her that he had purchased it at that 'First Saturday' flea market out on highway 122. It had been the only piece that the seller had. The seller claimed to have bought it at a road side stand in Kansas. He told her that he had used most of it making her birthday present but he still had a little piece of it left. He hadn't decided yet what to do with it but he was considering taking it to the college geology department lab to get it analyzed to find out what made it glow the bright green color. She told him that someone had seen her jewelry at work and, when told about her brother, had expressed an interest in buying any more of those stones that her brother might still have. Her brother considered it for a minute then stated that he would be willing to sell it for a reasonable price.

***

The next day might have been a fairly ordinary day for Kristen. The big difference was her acute awareness, from the moment she had woken up, that she carried inside her several secrets of earth-shattering significance. At the breakfast table her mother noticed her slightly subdued demeanor. She attributed it to Kristen having to work through her birthday and decided to talk to her husband about doing something special for her this weekend. Kristen always loved going to Centennial Park. Maybe they could all spend the day in the park together.

As Kristen approached the school that morning she noticed Jonathan entering the school just ahead of her. She didn't think he was even aware that she was less than ten feet behind him. She followed him observing his well-developed body from behind, up until she stopped at her locker. As she was getting her books out of her locker she kept thinking that there had been something about Jonathan that just wasn't quite right but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

Kristen went to her classes and chatted with her friends. Naturally two of the more common topics were Superboy and Jonathan (the hottest guy in the school) Kent. Though a bit more reserved than her usual self, Kristen still gushed over those two just like her friends. At one point when they were comparing and contrasting the two boys under discussion, she smiled to herself and wondered what they would think if they knew what she knew. She found it amusing that the two guys that nearly every girl in the school drooled over and that her friends were currently comparing and contrasting happened to be one and the same.

Once during lunch, while she and her friends were eagerly talking about the latest school gossip, Kristen spotted Jonathan on the other side of the school cafeteria eating with his usual group of friends. She noticed that the big nasty bruise that had been forming on his forehead was well developed now. She also noticed that he didn't seem quite as chipper as he normally was. Then she finally realized what it was that had seemed a little off about him this morning. His step hadn't had its usual easy going self-confident spring.

That evening at the music store was just as dead as Tuesday had been. She called the Daily Planet and got hold of Clark Kent. After a few flustered moments she finally told Clark about her discussion with her brother last night. He asked her if she could act as intermediary for Lois to buy the remaining piece of that stone. She said that she would try.

***

Thursday was much the same as the day before. Kristen only caught a glimpse of Jonathan once during lunch. He looked a bit better. The bruise was well developed by now and he still didn't have the usual spring in his step. When a spate of laughter broke out in the group around Jonathan, one of the school's football players clapped Jonathan on the back and Kristen clearly saw him wince.

She frowned worriedly. Superboy shouldn't wince like that. He caught bullets in his bare hands. That pat on the back, hard as it might have been, should not have had any effect on him. Had that damn bracelet of hers taken his powers away permanently? It hadn't stopped Superman. According to the radio this morning Superman had been busy most of last night dealing with a major explosion and fire in New Mexico. She felt an intense desire to go over and ask Jonathan if he was going to be all right but couldn't quite work up the nerve to do it.

That afternoon Lois came by the mall shortly after work and gave her the lead lined bag and some cash. That evening after Kristen got home she bought the last piece of the kryptonite crystal from her brother with the money that Lois had given her. She put the kryptonite in the lead lined purse and then stored it in her backpack. Having that stuff in her possession made her very nervous but she had no intention of letting out of her sight until she had put it safely in Lois Lane-Kent's hands.

***

Chapter 3

Friday morning Kristen had a test in algebra class. She was so distracted by worry about Jonathan and worry about the piece of kryptonite in her backpack that she was barely able to work her way through the test. At lunch she looked for Jonathan but didn't see him over with his regular group. The rest of the day she wondered what had become of him. Had he somehow felt the effects from the kryptonite in her backpack and been driven from the school by it? Had the exposure to that kryptonite hurt him more than expected?

Once she got to work that afternoon she put her backpack under the counter where she could keep an eye on it. She wasn't able to call Lois right away because of a sudden influx of kids hitting the mall right after school. About an hour later, just as the Friday evening school kid rush was starting to ease up, Stephanie showed up for work, late but no longer sick. Kristen let Stephanie hold down the counter while she went back to the office to call the private cell phone number that Lois had given her. She reported that she had gotten the last piece of the stone from her brother and had it with her up at the mall. Lois said that she would be up there in about a half hour.

Almost forty-five minutes later Lois showed up at the music store and Kristen quickly pulled out the lead lined bag and handed it over to her. Lois opened it, glanced in then quickly closed it and thanked Kristen for all that she had done.

As she was shoving the bag into her purse Clark and Jonathan both came into the store. Lois went over to join Clark and they both stood by the front looking back and smiling at her while Jonathan walked right up to Kristen at the counter. She noticed that Jonathan was wearing a baseball cap low on his forehead so that it hid the bruise there. He was also carrying a small package about the size of a book. "Hi, Kristen." Jonathan greeted her with a shy smile.

"Hi, Jonathan." She responded. She paused a moment then asked. "I didn't see you at school today. How are you doing?"

Jonathan's smile got a bit wider and she noticed a bit of a twinkle in his eye. "My parents took me to see a special doctor to make sure I was OK after what happened Tuesday." He lightly tapped his forehead. "It seems that I'm fully recovered." His grin widened a bit more. "Do you think you could take a quick break so we could talk?"

She looked over at Stephanie who was now looking back at her with eyes as wide as saucers. "I'm going to take my break now, Steph." Then she came around and joined Jonathan.

As they headed away from the counter Kristen noticed that Lois and Clark had apparently already left. Jonathan led them to the mall food court where he bought them both sodas. Then he led her over to an empty table.

After they sat down he placed the package on the table in front of him then reached out and took both her hands. "Kristen, I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me this week."

She shook her head. "But it was all my -- "

"No it wasn't." He interrupted her. "Kristen it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known." He tilted his head and smiled. "It was what you did after that matters. As soon as you discovered my secret you took all the right steps to protect me and my little family secret." He pushed the small package toward her. "This is for you -- sort of a combination late birthday and thank you gift."

Kristen opened the package then gasped in horror when she saw her own jewelry in the box. She looked up to see that Jonathan was smiling and apparently unaffected. She looked back down and realized that, although they all looked just like the last time she had seen them on Tuesday, the green stones were no longer glowing. When she looked back up at Jonathan he definitely had a hint of laughter in his eyes as he spoke. "Mother took your jewelry to a friend of the family. Superman once stopped a robbery at his jewelry store and saved his life. He replaced the dangerous stones in your jewelry with duplicate stones that were the exact same color." He tapped the bracelet with his finger. "Those new stones he put in are real emeralds."

Kristen's eyes opened wide at his revelation. "That must have cost a fortune. I really shouldn't accept this."

"Nonsense." Jonathan responded. "Mom only asked him to replace the stones with something that would look the same. When she told him that the pieces belonged to a high school girl that had sacrificed these pieces to help Superman and Superboy, he insisted on using some uncut man-made emeralds that he had on hand. He personally cut and mounted the stones exactly like the original crystals and then told mom that it was the least he could do for Superman and the girl that had given away her jewelry to help Superman." He patted her hand. "Now try them on and let's see how they look."

Kristen picked up the pieces and looked at them. In normal light it was impossible to see any difference in the stones. Then she put them on. She was so glad to have them back. They were doubly precious to her now. They had been made by her brother as a birthday present then restored to her by Superman's family. She looked up, a slight shimmer in her eyes. "Thank you, Jonathan."

"You're welcome, Kristen." He glanced down at his hands a moment then looked back up at her, his expression less self-assured, almost shy. "Ah -- Kristen, you know the Senior Prom is coming up pretty soon and, ah, I was wondering if you would be interested in going with me?"

Kristen stared at him for several seconds in stunned surprise before she could respond. "But I thought you already had a date to the Prom."

Jonathan chuckled. "Not yet. You're the first one I've asked." He tilted his head. "Well, do I have a date now?"

Kristen shook herself. "Ah, sure. Yea, I'll go with you." She looked down at his hands that she had just realized were again holding hers, then swallowed the lump in her throat where it joined the butterflies in her stomach and looked back up into his eyes. "I would love to go to the Senior Prom with you."

"Great!" Jonathan responded. He glanced at his watch. "I probably should be getting you back to your store." He stood up without letting go of her hand then helped her up. Jonathan kept a firm hold of her hand as he walked Kristen back to the music store. As they came in Stephanie's eyes again got wide when she noticed that Jonathan still had a hold of Kristen's hand. With a promise of "I'll call you later," Jonathan turned and left the store.

Staring at Kristen's slightly dazed expression, Stephanie asked her. "What was that all about?"

Kristen responded with a sigh while still gazing out the front of the store. "Jonathan Kent just asked me to the Senior Prom." Then she leaned back against the counter and sighed again.

Only the fact that it was attached kept Stephanie's jaw from hitting the floor. "You're joking." Her gaze then shifted to the bracelet that Kristen had not been wearing earlier and her eyes got even wider.

"Nope." Kristen responded. "I'm dead serious. Right out there in the food court he asked me to the Prom."

***

Later that evening as she entered her home, singing a song that had just been playing on the radio; she was greeted by her father. "Hi there, princess, you sure are in a good mood." Paul tilted his head noticing that his daughter was practically bouncing. "Something interesting happen at work to cause this sudden attack of singing?"

"Jonathan Kent came into the store to see me." She grinned from ear to ear. "He asked me to go to the Senior Prom with him."

"Is this the same Jonathan Kent that I've heard you and your friends gushing over?" Her father frowned. "I didn't even know that you knew each other."

She shrugged. "I've seen him around school. We ran into each other at the store where I work Tuesday evening and tonight he came by again and asked me to go to the Prom with him."

Her father nodded, frowning, and mumbled mostly to himself. "Mighty fast worker, this young man."

Kristen didn't hear her father's comment as she hurried up to her room. Paul's frown deepened a bit as he walked into the bedroom where his wife was watching the television. Sharron looked up as her husband entered the room catching sight of the worried look on his face.

Sharron looked more closely up into her husband's face. "What's wrong, honey?"

Paul shook his head, with a sigh. "I just don't like it." He looked over at the television as an advertisement for the 'Daily Planet' featuring a publicity picture of Lois and Clark (The Hottest Reporting Team in Town) was playing. "Jonathan Kent just asked Kristen to the Senior Prom today."

Sharon looked blankly at him a second then blinked. "Are you talking about Jonathan, son of Lois and Clark -- " She nodded toward the television commercial. " -- that Kent?"

Paul nodded still watching the commercial. "That's the one." He looked into his wife's face, making eye contact. "I just don't trust this guy. Why did he suddenly, out of the blue, ask Kristen to the Prom when they have had nothing to do with each other before this. They just don't move in the same circles." He sighed again deeply, shaking his head as he began pacing at the foot of the bed. "I've seen what these 'Popular Guys' are like. They think just because they're the top of the high school food chain or the 'Big Man on Campus' or their parents are important people that they can do anything they want and get away with it. And when they do get caught doing something wrong, their parents ride in with their money or their influence and bail them out." Paul stopped pacing and stared down at the floor. "It was a guy just like this Kent kid that ruined my sister's Senior Prom and nearly destroyed her life. Out of the blue he invited her to the prom and then proceeded to totally humiliate her in front of everyone at the prom. When she tried to fight back he savaged her reputation and nearly drove her to suicide. The only reason Katy's alive today is because Superman showed up and saved her." He paused a moment and took a deep breath. "Then when my parents tried to have the school do something about that kid, his parents show up to intimidate the school and bail him out of trouble."

Sharron had climbed out of the bed and gently laid her hand on his shoulder from behind. "Hey, don't forget, honey, I was Katy's best friend and I remember very well what happened to her. It still turns my stomach to think about it." She turned him to face her. "Just because Katy ran afoul of a particularly bad apple doesn't mean that they all are bad. I have heard only good things about Jonathan Kent and his parents. Everyone knows the reputation of his parents."

Paul sighed again as he looked into his wife's face. "I just don't want the same thing to happen to Kristen that happened to my sister."

***

That night as Kristen climbed into bed she looked up at the Superboy poster on her door. She resisted the urge to squeal in delight. Superboy had asked her to the prom! She would be going to the Senior Prom with Superboy!

She was startled back to reality when her mother knocked on her door. "Kristen, may I come in?"

"Sure, Mom."

Sharron came into the room and sat down on the edge of Kristen's bed. "I just heard from your father that the hottest boy in school asked you to the Senior Prom" She tilted her head. "Is everything all right, honey?"

"Everything's great, Mom. Why are you asking?" Kristen gazed curiously back at the slightly worried look on her mother's face.

Her mother shrugged. "It's just that your emotions have been all over the map the last few days and now the most popular boy in school, just out of the blue, asks you to the Senior Prom." She shrugged again. "Your father and I are worried. Sometimes high school boys can be pretty cruel and we just don't want you to get hurt."

Kristen shook her head. "Jonathan isn't like that." She looked down at her hands resting on the covers. She had to fight the urge to blurt out Jonathan's secret just to reassure her mother. "He is the sweetest, nicest boy I have ever met. Anybody at school could tell you the same thing. I've even heard some of the other girls call him a boy scout." She looked back at her mother defiantly.

Her mother looked at her daughter for a second. She knew her daughter well enough to know that though she wasn't lying, she was definitely holding something back. Finally she replied. "OK, honey, if you say so, then I believe you." She patted her daughter's hand. "Good night Kristen." She got up and left her daughter's room, her worry only slightly resolved.

***

Chapter 4

Saturday was usually family time and, at Sharron's suggestion, they decided to celebrate Kristen's birthday by spending the day in Centennial Park. Lunch was a picnic of hotdogs and soda from a street vendor while watching the various amateur street entertainers show off their widely divergent talents. After lunch they continued along the pathway that was well known for all the street entertainers that could be found there.

One of the entertainers did a human statue bit. He looked like a marble statue of Superman until he would move, startling the unaware. Kristen and Christopher both cracked up when the Superman statue reached out and touched their mother, making her nearly jump out of her skin.

While they were watching the human statue everything came to a halt as everyone stared up into the sky. High overhead two tiny blue and red figures were flying past the park. One of them broke off and swooped down passing low over the park drawing gasps, oohs and aahs from everyone.

After the low pass Superboy circled back around and landed near the human Superman statue. Kristen could see that the street entertainer was having a very hard time standing still as Superboy slowly walked around him looking him over. Kristen was having a difficult time keeping her runaway emotions under control as well. She knew that she couldn't let on that she knew him but it was hard. When Superboy was again standing in front of the human statue the man finally moved and looked straight at Superboy. Superboy took a step back and laughed.

Superboy reached out and shook the entertainer's hand which apparently left the man just a bit flustered then he glanced around at the gathering crowd. Superboy seemed to notice Kristen's family for the first time and nodded to them and commented. "Enjoy your day in the park." Then his eyes shifted momentarily to Kristen before he lifted off and soon disappeared in the same direction that Superman had gone.

It took a few seconds for everyone to recover from seeing Superboy in person. Kristen noticed that the crowd was definitely a bit more generous in their contributions to the human statue guy after Superboy left. As the small crowd of spectators began to break up Kristen's family continued along the walkway, enjoying their day in the park.

After a short while Kristen noticed that her father and her brother both seemed to be just a little bit distracted and she also caught her brother glancing speculatively at her a couple of times but that soon faded away and they were all talking animatedly about their close brush with Superboy.

Paul glanced at Kristen. "You know, Princess, it looked like Superboy looked right straight at you and smiled."

Christopher jumped in. "I noticed that too. Hey little sister how does it feel to have caught Superboy's eye?"

Kristen blushed. "I'm sure it meant nothing."

Christopher rebuffed. "Nonsense. I saw your face. Superboy noticed you and you noticed that he noticed you."

Kristen shook her head. "You've got too much imagination.

Christopher's eyes flashed with amusement. "Yea -- Right."

Sharron's face showed a hint of surprise then contemplation as she listened to the exchange.

A couple of hours later it was getting close to dinner time and Kristen's father suggested a well-known Italian restaurant that was located just across the street from Centennial Park. Everyone agreed so they headed over toward that establishment.

Five minutes later they entered the restaurant and were quickly seated. Kristen already knew what she wanted so, while everyone else perused their menus, she idly scanned the restaurant. To her surprise, she spotted the entire Kent family at a table on the far side of the room. She remarked quietly. "Wow, that's so wild."

Christopher looked up at her. "What's so wild?"

She replied. "Jonathan Kent and his family are here." Immediately after she said that, Jonathan, Clark and the oldest girl all turned their heads and looked toward Kristen's family then at a word from Clark they all turned back to their meals.

Christopher and her mother both glanced around. "They are -- where?" Her mother asked.

Kristen nodded in the approximate direction. "Over there on the other side of the room." Then very softly so no one else could hear her she whispered. "You can hear me, can't you?"

As the rest of her family spotted the Kents, the older girl glanced over at Kristen in surprise at the same time as Jonathan and Clark both nodded yes without looking at her. It hit Kristen at that moment that if Jonathan inherited his father's powers then certainly his siblings might also get them.

Kristen's father only grunted an acknowledgement while her mother remarked. "That's the boy you're going to the Prom with, isn't he?"

"Yea, that's him, Mom." Kristen replied.

The waiter returned to take their orders. After that, conversation drifted on to other topics.

About halfway through their meal Christopher commented to Kristen. "I see you're wearing your new jewelry."

Kristen smiled as she glanced down at her bracelet. "Yea, I wear it every chance I get." She looked up at her brother. "Thank you for making it for me. I really love it."

Christopher's brows furrowed. "Odd, but something about it looks a little different."

Kristen shook her head. "No, it looks just the same as when you gave it to me." She replied, feeling a bit self-conscious.

Christopher looked at her for a moment then shrugged. "Maybe it's my imagination."

After that Kristen had a strong urge to hide the wrist that held her bracelet and had to fight it lest she give something away to her too-observant brother.

About ten minutes later the Kent family got up and headed out of the restaurant. As they passed near Kristen's table, Jonathan smiled and nodded to her. Now that she was aware of it she could clearly see Superboy in the glasses-clad face of Jonathan Kent, yet the Superboy that they had encountered in the park just felt different somehow. Maybe it was something in his overall attitude when being Superboy.

A little over a half-hour later Kristen's family finished their meal and headed out of the restaurant. As they made their way down the street they passed a popular secondhand book store that they frequented and dropped in, just to see what was new. They split up and each headed toward their favorite section of the store. Paul headed for the science fiction section and Sharron made for the romance novels. Kristen and Christopher, as usual, ended up in the mystery section.

After a few minutes her brother pulled her aside a look of confused concern on his face. "Kristen, that bracelet has been altered. Those are not the stones I put in it -- they aren't glowing."

Kristen glanced down at her bracelet then back up at her brother, unsure just what to say to him. "I, ah -- I had to have them replaced." She couldn't quite bring herself to look at him. "Ah -- some of them got broken so I, ah, I had them replaced."

Christopher could tell that she was lying by the way she was refusing to look directly at him. He also thought he caught a hint of panic and fear in her eyes. "This has something to do with that guy that wanted to buy the rest of the crystal doesn't it?" He frowned at her becoming worried. "Why did he want it? What is really going on here?"

"Chris, I can't say why. It doesn't really matter so forget it." She shook her head trying to end the conversation.

Christopher grabbed her arm as his worried frown got deeper. "Did that guy force you to give them to him? Did he threaten you? You can tell me. Dad and I can protect you?"

She turned away from him. "No, it was my idea. I just had to get rid of those crystals. OK?"

"But why?" He turned her around to face him. "I chose those especially for you because you liked them so much. Please just tell me. Why did you have to get rid of them?"

Kristen refused to look at him. "*Because* they were *dangerous*, all right?"

"What do you mean dangerous?" He stared back at her shaking his head in disbelief. "I tested them myself for both radiation and toxicity. Those stones were perfectly safe."

She mutely shook her head then they were surprised when there was a faint swoosh sound and Superboy stepped out from behind the bookshelf next to them.

"Superboy!" Christopher exclaimed. "What -- "

Suprboy looked straight at Christopher and spoke softly. "She means that they were dangerous to me and possibly dangerous to your family if the wrong person found out what she had."

Christopher gathered his scattered wits. "What do you mean?"

Superboy replied quietly. "Those glowing green crystals that you mounted on the jewelry you made for Kristen?"

Christopher nodded. "Yea, I'd never seen anything quite like it before. It was also the exact same shade as Kristen's favorite color."

Superboy cocked his head with a sardonic grin. "They were Kryptonite."

Christopher shook his head and responded in lowered voice. "But I thought Kryptonite was just a myth." He glanced at Kristen as thought looking for confirmation. She nodded back and he looked back at Superboy.

"That's what we would like everyone to believe." Superboy shook his head. "But, unfortunately, it's very real. However, fortunately, it's also very rare."

Christopher looked over at his sister. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Superboy placed his arm across Kristen's shoulder causing her to look up at him. "She promised to keep it secret." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Christopher looked at the two of them noticing the way Kristen was smiling at Superboy. Then he asked. "Why are you telling me this now if it is such a secret?"

Superboy was looking at Kristen as he responded. "Because your questions were putting your sister in a very uncomfortable position so I stepped in. She was very helpful when she discovered the nature of her jewelry so I owed her one." He gave her shoulder another gentle squeeze making goose bumps run down her spine and her face to become distinctly pinker. "I couldn't let her attempts to protect myself and my father come between her and her brother." He glanced over peering past Christopher's shoulder for a moment. "I have to go." He dropped his arm from her shoulder and with a colorful blur and a breezy whoosh was gone."

After a startled moment Kristen looked up at her brother. "Chris, you can't tell *anyone* about this, not even Mom and Dad. You can't even tell anyone that Superboy knows me."

Christopher's eyes suddenly lit up with discovery. "That's why Superboy smiled at you in the park. He already knew who you were." He turned serious. "All right, little sister, I'll keep the secret." He broke into a smile. "But it is kinda cool that Superboy knows you." He cocked his head. "And you know how much Dad admires Superman. He would be beside himself if he knew that you were on friendly terms with Superboy. It would just about make his year."

At that moment their father came around the other end of the row of bookshelves. "There you two are. Did you find anything interesting back here?"

Christopher and Kristen looked at each other then back at their father. They simultaneously shook their heads and responded. "No, not a thing." Then they again looked at each other and smiled.

Paul looked back at his two children wondering what was up with them. After a second he shrugged. "Well your mother and I are done looking. Are you two ready to go?"

"Sure, Dad." Christopher answered and they all headed out of the store and set their course for home.

***

Chapter 5

On Monday morning at school Kristen soon noticed that she was getting a lot of furtive looks from many of the other girls in her classes. It wasn't hard to conclude that Stephanie had apparently spread the word about Kristen and Jonathan. She even overheard a few whispered references linking her name with his.

At lunch she joined her same three closest friends. The first words out of their mouths were questions about the truth of the rumors that had been circulating.

Before Kristen could open her mouth to get a word in edgewise Jonathan walked up to their table. "Hi, Kristen. Mind if I join you?" He asked as he set his tray down next to Kristen's.

All three girls jaws dropped as their inquiries were very obviously answered by Jonathan's unexpected appearance at their table. Kristen couldn't prevent a little bit of a smirk from sneaking across her face at her friend's reaction. Jonathan could tell by the accelerated heart rates as well as the looks on the faces of Kristen and her friends what type of impression he had just had on all four girls.

Jonathan glanced at Kristen's bracelet then apparently took in the matching green of her dress and smiled. "Emerald green definitely looks good on you."

Kristen blushed. "Um -- Thank-you."

Then Jonathan launched into a discussion of the latest goings-on at the school, while Kristen's three friends tried hard not to drool or babble too much. Kristen was still feeling a bit overwhelmed in Jonathan's presence but she still managed to hold up her own end of the conversation.

Finally her friend Molly managed to get out a coherent question. "How did you meet?"

Jonathan glanced over at Kristen and grinned, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "The first time I encountered Kristen, she came over to where I was standing and I was just totally knocked out by her." Kristen looked down at the table and Jonathan reached out and took her hand. "After that I just had to get to know her better."

All three of Kristen's friends looked like they were on the verge of a swooning over his romantic description. Kristen blushed as she remembered the true interpretation of Jonathan's description.

After lunch Jonathan offered to walk Kristen to her next class.

As they walked down the hall Kristen glanced up at the bandage across his forehead. "How's your head?"

Jonathan smiled. "Just fine. The bandage is camouflage. Can't have anyone noticing how fast I heal. It'll be gone by prom night."

***

On Tuesday Jonathan didn't have lunch with Kristen and her friends but on Wednesday and Thursday he was back at her table.

***

Friday afternoon Kristen was on the steps outside the school, digging through her purse and grumbling angrily to herself, when a shadow fell across her. Startled, she looked up to see Jonathan standing over her.

Jonathan cocked his head and smiled down at her. "Anything wrong?"

Kristen set her purse down on the step with a little bit more force than necessary and huffed in exasperation. "Yea, my brother can't pick me up today and I've lost my bus pass." She huffed again. "And I really don't want to have to deal with getting past the Johnson boys on my way home today." She leaned back on her elbows and closed her eyes. "Damn!"

Jonathan cocked his head the other way. "I would be happy to walk you home." He smiled. "If you'll point out which way we will be going?"

She breathed a deep sigh. "That would be nice, thank you." She pointed off to the left. "My home is that way."

Jonathan took her hand and helped her to her feet so effortlessly that she easily felt the power of his super strength. It left her in a significant amount of awe over him. At that moment another girl approached and after a moment she recognized her as the older of the two girls that she had seen with his family in the restaurant last Saturday.

Jonathan introduced the girl. "Kristen, this is my sister Martha Ellen. She goes to this school and is one grade behind you." He addressed Martha. "This is Kristen Mathers; the one I'm taking to the prom."

"Nice to meet you." Kristen responded.

"Same here." Martha replied.

Jonathan took hold of Kristen's hand and all three of them started out in the direction Kristen had pointed. After a few steps Kristen looked over at Martha, who was walking on the other side of Jonathan from her, and asked. "Why are you walking me home?"

Martha responded. "I'm not. This is the way to our home."

"Oh." Kristen responded.

After they had walked on for a few silent moments Jonathan started talking about the latest events going on in school. Soon he and Kristen were carrying on an animated conversation. Though Martha would make the occasional comment or response, she mostly kept quiet. They had been walking about twenty minutes when Kristen became aware that Martha seemed to be studying her, evaluating her. This realization made Kristen a bit nervous and conversation began to falter.

Feeling just a bit self-conscious about the scrutiny, Kristen's mischievous side came to her rescue and joined forces with her curiosity, getting the better of her. She glanced around to be sure that no one was anywhere nearby to hear then looked over at Martha. She paused a moment then inquired. "Martha, do you have all of the powers like Jonathan does?"

Martha's eyebrows shot up on her forehead and her eyes opened wide with surprise as her steps faltered. "Wh -- *What? * -- How? -- What? -- " Her voice seemed to fail her at this point.

Jonathan glanced over at Kristen in surprise then laughed. "You don't beat around the bush, do you?" He glanced over at his sister who was desperately trying to regain her composure. "Yea, pretty much." He responded. "Though she hasn't yet mastered flight." He cocked his head at his stunned sister, a hint of amusement in his expression. "You OK, Sis?"

Finally Martha regained some semblance of control. "How – How did you know?" Then she stared accusingly at Jonathan. "You didn't -- "

Kristen shook her head. "Oh no, Jonathan didn't tell me. I kinda figured it out on my own."

Jonathan looked over at Kristen. "Yea Kristen did figure it out -- " He grabbed Kristen's hand and raised it so that the bracelet was clearly visible then looked over at his sister. "Just about the same time that she figured out that the crystals on her bracelet were Kryptonite." Jonathan looked up. "Ah, here we are." He turned to Kristen "This is our home. Would you like to come in for a minute for a soda and a snack? Afterwards I'll walk you the rest of the way home." He opened the door and directed Kristen inside. Then he turned to Martha, who was standing there sputtering nearly incoherently, and grinned. "You comin' inside, Sis?"

Once he had closed the door he turned to Kristen. "Since you're in on the secret I should tell you that we try very hard not to refer to it when in public. But I also noticed that you made sure no one was nearby before you said anything so don't worry about it. Just be very careful what you say around others."

Kristen looked back at Jonathan a bit contritely. "I'm sorry Jonathan. I'll be more careful."

"I know you will." Jonathan responded.

Then the mischief returned to her eyes. "But the look on Martha's face when I asked was priceless."

Jonathan laughed. "That it was."

Martha simply harrumphed with an annoyed frown.

Jonathan looked at his sister. "Oh, come on, Sis. The look on your face was pretty funny." Martha relaxed a bit as Jonathan turned back to Kristen. "Actually she has pretty much all of them but flight is still not fully developed." He looked again at Martha. "Let's go into the living room and Kristen and I can fill you in on the whole story." Then he turned to Kristen. "Do you have to be anywhere anytime soon?"

Kristen shook her head as the three of them went into the family room. "No, I have the day off from work and my parents don't get home for another couple of hours. If I hadn't forgotten my bus pass I probably would have gone to the mall for a few hours before going home."

They all sat down and, after fetching sodas and snacks for the three of them, Jonathan began telling his side of what had happened. When he had finished his rather abbreviated description of events, Kristen filled in with her view of what had happened while showing off the jewelry that had caused all the fuss.

Martha shook her head. "Nobody ever told me what really happened. It must have been terrible for you."

Jonathan shrugged. "It certainly wasn't the most pleasant experience I've ever had -- " He squeezed Kristen's hand as he spoke. "But I think it was worth it since it I got to meet Kristen."

Kristen blushed then responded. "I'm glad we met too." She paused then shook her head. "But sometimes it scares me pea green to know what I know about your family. It's such a terribly big secret for a plain simple person like me."

"I would never call you simple or plain. You are far too special and pretty for that." Jonathan squeezed her hand again as his face developed the faintest bit of a blush then looked toward the back of their home. "Mom and Dad are home."

A couple of minutes later they all heard the back door open and the sound of running feet followed by Clark's voice. "You kids slow down. We have a guest in the house."

The two youngest of the Kent children skidded to a halt in the family room and were looking over the strange girl in their midst with open curiosity. Jonathan introduced the younger of his two sisters, Lucy Lara (she was twelve) and his 'baby' brother James Perry (he was ten). The two children turned and headed for the kitchen, and Kristen commented that it was time for her to head home. Jonathan insisted on walking her the rest of the short way to her house.

As they passed the Johnson home all three of the brothers were outside and they stared sullenly as Jonathan and Kristen walked past. Kristen felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck at their cold gaze. She was very glad that Jonathan was with her. She didn't relax until they turned the corner two blocks down from the Johnson's house.

Jonathan glanced at Kristen and frowned. "Just how much are those Johnson brothers bothering you?"

Kristen shook her head. "They're very troublesome but normally I can just avoid them. It's not important." They walked the next few blocks in silence then Kristen stopped, faced Jonathan and smiled. "Thank you for walking me home, Jonathan. I really appreciated it."

Jonathan smiled back. "I was happy to do it." As she opened her door Jonathan leaned in hesitantly. She closed the distance and they kissed. When they separated he smiled. "I'll see you at school." He

turned and walked away.

She stood in her open doorway and watched as Jonathan disappeared between two of the townhomes across the street. A minute later a characteristic 'Whoosh' was heard from that direction and she caught a glimpse of a blue streak shooting up so fast that she would have missed it if she hadn't been looking for it. Kristen looked straight up and saw a tiny blue and red figure high in the sky do a perfect double loop then head off in the direction of Jonathan's place. She couldn't help but giggle as she closed her front door.

***

Chapter 6

The next day Kristen and Stephanie were working together at the music store when the Johnson boys sauntered in. They were again loitering in the same area of the store as last time and Stephanie warned Kristen to keep an eye out for them. Kristen remarked that she was already aware of them.

While Kristen hung near the store phone, Stephanie moved out onto the floor and began straightening the CD racks while steadily working her way over toward where the three boys were standing. Once she reached a position where she could clearly see what they were doing she settled in and busied herself industriously rearranging the CD's while keeping a wary eye on the three boys.

After about ten minutes of this the three brothers began grumbling angrily among themselves while glancing over at Stephanie. Both girls were getting a bit worried as all three of the boys were adopting rather aggressive stances as they began to move away from each other. Soon it became obvious to the two girls that Keith, the oldest, started working his way toward Kristen while Lance and Marty were slowly working their way toward either side of Stephanie.

The two girls were starting to feel really afraid and Kristen was about to grab the phone to call security when Jonathan Kent wandered casually into the shop. He swept the store with a glance then looked over at Kristen, a slight frown on his face. He then strolled over to a spot near where Stephanie was standing, nodded to her and began flipping through the CDs.

The three brothers started looking uncertainly at each other and less than a minute later they decided to leave. All three of them gave both girls the evil eye stare before walking out of the store.

Stephanie and Kristen glanced at each other and breathed a sigh of relief at the departure of the three Johnson brothers. Stephanie headed back to the checkout counter followed closely by Jonathan.

The three looked at each other in silence for a moment then Jonathan spoke. "Are you two girls all right? The tension in here when I walked in was thick enough to suffocate."

Stephanie responded. "We're just fine now. Those Johnson boys looked like they were going to start trouble but they changed their minds when you walked in. Thanks."

"No problem." Jonathan responded with a smile then he turned to Kristen. "I just came by to see you. Can you take a quick break; maybe get a coke or something?"

Kristen glanced at Stephanie who nodded back at her. "Sure, I can take a few minutes," she responded.

As Kristen and Jonathan walked toward the food court he commented. "The way both of your hearts were racing, I would say that things were getting a bit serious back there."

Kristen nodded. "Yea, I think that things were about to turn nasty when you walked in."

Jonathan nodded back then took her hand and stopped, pulling her around to face him. "Just remember, if things ever turn bad, all you have to do is yell and I'll be there in a flash."

She looked down at the floor. "I know."

Jonathan put one hand under her chin, encouraging her to look at him. "Just, promise me that you will call out for me if you ever get into trouble -- OK?"

She nodded. "OK." There was the faintest shimmer in her eyes as she looked back into his deep brown eyes.

He held her gaze a moment longer then he leaned in and gave a quick peck of a kiss. They smiled at each other then they turned and together headed into the food court.

***

The evening of the Senior Prom had finally arrived. Jonathan Kent stepped up to the front door to Kristen's home and pressed the doorbell. A minute later the door opened and Jonathan found himself facing a very stern-faced man that just stared hard back at him for several seconds. Finally the man spoke. "Yes?"

Despite being invulnerable Jonathan found that man's stare a bit intimidating and felt a strong urge to step back. He held his ground and put on his best friendly, and hopefully harmless, smile. "Hi, I'm Jonathan Kent. I'm here to pick up Kristen."

The man stared at Jonathan for another couple of seconds then stepped back. "You may come in and wait. My daughter should be down in a minute." The man then led Jonathan into a family room. The coffee table was covered with newspaper, on top of which sat a partially disassembled .45 semi-automatic pistol and gun cleaning supplies. "Have a seat." The man pointed to a chair next to the table then sat down on the sofa.

Over the next couple of minutes of tense silence, the man resumed cleaning and inspecting the gun parts.

After a quick glance at Jonathan out of the corner of his eye Paul finally spoke. "You know, Kristen is really looking forward to tonight." Paul looked down the gun barrel then he wiped at it with a grey cloth as he continued speaking. "She is my only daughter and very special to me." He then looked at Jonathan through the gun barrel. "If anything ever happened to her, I don't think I would be responsible for my actions." He set the barrel down on the coffee table and looked Jonathan straight in the eye. "I'm trusting you to take good care of my little girl tonight."

Jonathan nodded his head. "Don't worry, sir. I know how special Kristen is and I will do my best to be sure that she has a good time tonight and get her home safe and sound."

Kristen's father picked up the handle and trigger assembly and began inspecting it. "I'm counting on it."

As they stared at each other they were interrupted by the sound of Kristen clearing her throat. They both and looked over at the family room doorway to see Kristen standing there looking quite beautiful and staring curiously back at them both. "I'm ready, Jonathan." She announced.

Jonathan stood up. "Great." He stepped around the coffee table and approached Kristen, smiling. "You look fantastic, Kristen."

Kristen dimpled and blushed as she responded. "Thank you, Jonathan. You don't look half bad yourself."

Jonathan reached out and took her hand. "We'd best be going. The prom starts in a few minutes and we don't want to miss anything."

She giggled, still blushing, the touch of his hand sending tingles up her arm. "Then let's go." She glanced over at her father who was scowling back at them. "Good night, Daddy. We'll try not to be out too late." Then she started pulling Jonathan toward the front door.

"See that you don't," her father replied to their backs as they headed out of the room.

Kristen wasn't really listening because she was quietly trying to deal with the way Jonathan's hand in hers was making her heart race. Just as they reached the door her mother appeared from the back of the house followed closely by her brother.

"Wait!" Her mother called out. "Oooo, you two just look soooo cute." She gushed. "I just have to get a picture of you both. I'll be right back." She turned and walked quickly back the way she had come.

Christopher watched their mother walk away then turned toward Jonathan and Kristen. He leaned against the wall and shrugged while chuckling. "Mothers! Sometimes I think embarrassing their children is their main goal in life."

A minute later she returned with a camera and pointed it at them. "Now, move a little closer, you two, and smile."

Jonathan shifted closer to Kristen and reached behind her, placing his arm across her shoulder. Kristen looked over at Jonathan and felt a shiver run up her spine as Jonathan smiled at her, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Christopher straightened up from the wall and frowned in deep concentration as he watched the scene before him. He had seen this exact same action and reaction very recently. Then his eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline in surprise. Kristen and Superboy in the used bookstore!

Oblivious to Christopher's reaction, the little prom date ritual continued to play itself out. "That's perfect!" Their mother exclaimed. "Say Cheese!" She snapped two pictures then stepped forward and kissed Kristen on the cheek. "Now you two go have fun and, for the sake of your father's poor heart, stay out of trouble."

"We will, Mom." Kristen replied.

Jonathan added. "Don't worry Mrs. Mathers. I'll look out for her and get her home safe." Then they turned and passed through the front door.

As the door closed Christopher, still looking a bit shocked, commented to his mother. "Don't worry, Mom -- " He blinked twice and shook himself with a short snort of a laugh. "I don't think Sis could be in safer hands." He turned and headed into the family room mumbling to himself. As he entered the family room he took one look at the disassembled gun then looked over at his father by the window and momentarily cracked up.

***

As they descended the front steps Kristen noticed the car that they were headed for. It was a Superman-blue Mustang with bright red interior and gold racing stripes. On the fender just in front of the door was a tiny two inch high Superman shield and below it was the words '*Superman Special Limited Edition*' in gold script.

Kristen remembered her brother drooling over that very model when it first came out last year on the twenty-fifth anniversary of Superman's first public appearance during the EPRAD space station incident. She giggled and looked over at Jonathan. "Isn't that color scheme just a bit obvious?"

Jonathan laughed. "It is just a bit over the top for me?"

Kristen shook her head. "It's almost like you're daring someone to make the connection."

He paused beside the passenger door. "This car actually belongs to James Olsen of the Daily Planet, a friend of the family. He let me borrow it for tonight since I don't own a car."

Jonathan opened the passenger door for Kristen and handed her into the seat and closed the door. As he trotted around to the other side Kristen glanced back at the house and saw her father and brother looking out through the family room window.

Jonathan pulled his driver side door closed and Kristen glanced over at him. "What was all that about back there between you and my Dad?"

Jonathan shook his head as he started the car with a roar of glass-pack mufflers. "I think he was trying to scare me." He chuckled. "He was pretty effective. I'm *invulnerable* and I felt intimidated."

Kristen giggled. "That's rich. My dad *actually intimidating* Superboy."

Jonathan pulled out into the street and shrugged. "I don't think your father likes me very much -- or he just doesn't trust me with you."

Again Kristen giggled. "Now that is actually kinda funny cause Dad idolizes both Superman and Superboy." She shook her head at the irony of it. "I think it's because Superman once saved Aunt Katy or something."

***

Christopher joined his father at the window just in time to see Jonathan closing the passenger door of the very same car that he had dreamed about since it first came out. Once the car pulled away Christopher turned and headed for his room. A minute later both his parents were startled when they heard Christopher break out in a full throated, shake the walls, belly laugh.

***

Chapter 7

As Jonathan pulled into the school parking lot many of the students milling around outside turned to look at the very unique car Kristen and Jonathan were arriving in. Several of the guys grinned and gave the thumbs up. Jonathan grinned back at them then he commented. "You know, half of my friends have dreamed of owning this particular car." He looked over at Kristen. "Even I dreamed of having one of these but not even Dad could afford one." He chuckled. "How's that for irony. Superman can't afford to own a Superman Special Edition Mustang." He shook his head. "Uncle James has done so well off his software company that he can afford a car like this but he still works at the Daily Planet as the staff photographer." He pulled into an empty spot and cut the engine. "Here we are." He announced unnecessarily with a grin.

Jonathan jumped out of the car and sprinted around to her side then opened her door with an exaggerated flourish. He held out his hand to her. "May I assist you, my lady?" He asked with a smile and a sparkle in his eye.

Kristen took his hand and allowed him to assist her out of the car. It was like holding onto a steel rail wrapped in soft warm leather. She marveled at the subtle show of Jonathan's incredible super strength as she stood up.

Jonathan closed the car door and offered her his elbow. "Shall we?"

She took the offered elbow. "We shall."

The car bleeped twice, then Jonathan dropped the keys into his pocket as they started walking toward the main school building. Several others that were headed into the building waved at Jonathan or called out greetings to him in passing. She was sure that she caught many of them looking her over trying to see who he was bringing to the Prom.

As they stepped through the doorway into what was usually the main assembly hall together Kristen gazed around at the great room. Everywhere she looked she saw glittering glass and bright sparkling colors that were made to stand out even more by the generally subdued lighting in the great hall. The place had been decorated to look like a fairytale ball room including hundreds of tiny sparkling fairies in every corner and open wall space in the room. At the far end of the room a live band was currently playing one of Kristen's favorite romantic ballads. She felt the fantasy atmosphere wash over her as they stepped onto the runway-like ramp that extended from the front door into the room.

They paused a moment at the top of the ramp just inside the doorway and it seemed to Kristen that everyone in the room noticed them. She was sure it was her imagination but she couldn't help feeling a bit self-conscious. She quietly tried to assure herself that it was Jonathan that drew everyone's attention. She was just some anonymous high school junior whereas Jonathan was a 'Senior' and the most popular boy in the school. She was sure however that she saw expressions of surprise on the faces of several of the people that she saw looking their way.

Jonathan reached up with his free hand and patted the hand that she had on his elbow. She looked up into his face and he smiled back. She was suddenly very aware of the difference in their sizes. Even with her ridiculously high heels, he was still a head taller than her. She began to feel even more nervous as she wondered just how ridiculous they must look together.

Jonathan cocked his head and his smile seemed to outshine the whole room. "Remember Kristen, you're here with me because I asked you." His head cocked the other way and his smile defied logic by getting even brighter. "And I asked you because I wanted to be with you tonight." Then he patted her hand again and started forward.

Kristen felt a warm glow suffuse her body as she let his words play through her mind. He said he *wanted* to be with her. *Superboy* wanted to be with her!

As they walked down the short ramp into the great hall Kristen caught sight of Beverly, the school's head cheerleader, staring at them and giving her the once over, looking very puzzled. Then Beverly turned to Steve, the school football team's quarterback and apparently her date, and dragged him into the crowd.

Kristen heard her name called and looked over to see Stephanie from the music shop approaching with a boy she didn't recognize in tow. Stephanie walked up to Kristen, smiling. "Hi, Kristen. I see you made it." She turned to Jonathan. "Hello, Jonathan." She pulled the boy with her a bit forward. "This is my date, Justin Wyatt." She leaned in and spoke in a lower conspiratorial voice. "Don't tell anyone but he goes to that other school that we shall not name."

Kristen knew that Stephanie was interested in a boy from their school's principal rival but she had never met him. "I'll never tell." Kristen responded with a grin and an equally conspiratorial voice.

Jonathan grinned. "Your secret's safe with me, Justin." He took the boy's hesitantly outstretched hand. "Jonathan Kent." He gestured toward Kristen. "And this is my girlfriend and date Kristen Mathers." He turned his smile back on Stephanie. "Won't you two like to join us?" Kristen felt a warmth rising inside her -- '*Jonathan said ***Girlfriend***!!*'

Stephanie blushed and grinned nodding her head. "Sure," Justin responded for them both.

Jonathan led them over to the area near the refreshment bar where most of the kids seemed to congregate. The romantic song ended and the band launched into a currently popular Rock'n'Roll tune.

They each picked out their favorite beverage and settled into a convenient open space where they could talk and get acquainted. It soon developed that Jonathan and Justin had very similar interests, including musical tastes. They also both loved the same types of movies. Kristen learned that Jonathan loved science fiction, fantasy, spectacular special effects and action. A movie that included any two or more of those elements was a guaranteed hit in his opinion. Justin apparently felt the same way. Stephanie and Kristen exchanged amused looks as the boys talked excitedly about the latest hot movies.

After several minutes Beverly wandered by dragging Steve with her. She stopped right in front of Kristen and turned to look at Jonathan. "Hello, Jonathan, Who's your 'little' friend?"

Kristen bristled at the way she had subtly emphasized the word 'little'. Beverly stood a little straighter to drive home how much she towered over her. Kristen responded trying to enhance the confidence in her voice. "My name is Kristen."

"Kristen is a junior at this school and my date." Jonathan responded then, turned dismissively away from Beverly to take Kristen's hand and smiling at her, he inquired. "Would you care to dance?"

At a mute nod from her, Jonathan drew Kristen out toward the center of the room just as the band began to play one of the more popular romantic love ballads. Kristen caught a glance of the surprised and frustrated look on Beverly's face and the amused grin on Stephanie's face before they became surrounded, lost among the other dancing couples.

Jonathan drew her close and wrapped his arms around her then began to sway to the gentle rhythm of the music. Kristen sighed, put her arms around his neck, and laid her head against his chest with his chin barely touching the top of her head. 'This feels so good,' she thought as she reveled in the feel of his arms around her. It was almost a shock when the song ended and Jonathan pulled back from her. She looked up into his eyes to see him smiling back at her.

The band launched into a pop favorite and with a grin Jonathan, still holding on to her, began moving to the faster beat, taking her right along with him swinging her around and spinning her occasionally. It was a heady feeling being guided through the dance by his irresistibly strong arms.

Jonathan was thinking how graceful Kristen looked and felt, as she easily followed his lead, while they were dancing to one of his favorite pop songs. He was still feeling the warm glow he had gotten from holding her close and swaying to the music on the previous song as well.

The song ended and, predictably, the band moved into a driving Rock'n'Roll favorite. They separated, dancing energetically to the driving beat though he kept contact with her hands as much as possible. Jonathan was mesmerized by her movements as she danced. They were so sensual and sexy.

Kristen noticed that Jonathan was trying to maintain contact with her hands, and the way his eyes followed her as she danced to the rock beat made her feel tingly all over. Then the music was over and Jonathan pulled her into a gentle hug. Another slow song began and they were again swaying to the music as the warmth of his body against hers spread through her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was thinking that she could easily lose herself in the feel of his arms wrapped around her like this. The song ended and she looked up into Jonathan's smiling face. Then with barely a moment's warning his lips met hers in a warm gentle kiss that sent shivers down her spine and made her toes curl.

The next song had already started as the kiss reluctantly ended. "That was great." Jonathan said softly, then a little louder, "Come on, let's go get something to drink." He let go with one arm, the other remained around her back, and led her toward the refreshments bar.

As they threaded their way through the other couples Kristen found herself wondering if Jonathan had been referring to the dancing or the kiss as being great. She hoped that he had been referring to both.

Just when they reached the bar they were joined by Stephanie and Justin, who were holding hands and smiling. Stephanie's grin widened as she spoke. "I caught a couple of glimpses of you two out there dancing. You look very good together."

"Thank-you." Jonathan responded as he snagged three sodas and handed them to the others before he continued speaking. "Kristen is an excellent dancer and a pleasure to be with." He grabbed a soda for himself.

"Kristen, hi." A voice called out and everyone turned to see Molly Winston and Erica Underwood approaching with their prom dates in tow. It was Molly that had called out. Molly introduced her date, Eddie Coogan, who was a halfback on the Junior Varsity football team. Erica introduced her date, Otto Heitzler, who turned out to be in Jonathan's physics class. Soon they were all acquainted and talking about the Prom and how things were going so far.

Kristen touched Jonathan's arm to draw his attention. "I have to go powder my nose. I'll be right back." Stephanie jumped in. "Hold up, I'll come too." Erica spoke up. "I'll go with you." Finally Molly chimed in. "I need to go, too." The four girls all headed off together.

The four boys all watched in a bemused state as their dates walked away. Justin was the first to comment. "Why do they always head to the restroom in packs?" Jonathan responded. "I don't know." He shook his head adding. "It's a girl thing." Otto shrugged as he spoke his thought. "Must be genetic." And finally Eddie added his opinion. "I think it's so that they can make fun of us without our knowing about it."

The four boys looked at each other sharing a grin over the peculiarities of the mysterious opposite sex. Soon they were discussing the relative merits of various high school football teams.

***

In the restroom, minutes later, the girls were in fact discussing their dates. Stephanie was commenting. "Kristen, you sure had a dazed look on your face a little while ago when you came back from dancing." Molly added. "Yea, I noticed that as you walked past Eddie and me out there on the dance floor."

Kristen smiled and the slightly dazed look under discussion returned. "Yea, he kissed me -- right there on the dance floor." She blushed as the other three giggled.

"Good kisser, hu?" Erica commented with a hint of mischief in her eye and a hint of envy in her voice.

Kristen's grin widened. "I could get used to it." With a deeper blush, she said, "I need to get back to Jonathan."

Erica and Stephanie giggled in response but Molly frowned at her image in the mirror. "Damn, where'd that come from?" She wet a paper napkin and tried rubbing at a stain she had just discovered on her top.

Erica jumped in as she grabbed Molly's hand. "No, Molly, you dab at it. If you wipe at it you will only spread the stain." She took the paper towed and fit word to deed. "Kristen, you and Stephanie go ahead. Molly and I will be out in a few minutes."

Kristen and Stephanie had just exited the restroom when Stephanie stopped dead looking up the hall they were in. "What the heck are they doing?"

Kristen looked up the hallway to see three boys at the other end of the hall doing something at the school's trophy case. At that point the three boys turned toward them. It was the three Johnson brothers. Without a word, Stephanie and Kristen made a dash for the door to the great hall. The three boys took out after them.

Just as they passed through the great hall doors the Johnson boys caught up to them and quickly blocked their way. The oldest and the youngest boys had pulled out knives. The third boy was holding a short length of pipe. "You've interfered with us too many times." The oldest boy ground out, apparently addressing his remark at Stephanie. All three waved their weapon threateningly as they moved in on the girls.

***

Chapter 8

Jonathan Kent and the boys had been talking about Junior Varsity teams and next year's possibilities. Justin had been extolling the virtues of the quarterback from his school. Jonathan reluctantly conceded a point to Justin. "OK, I admit that the quarterback at your school is a strong runner and could be a serious threat next year but you have to admit that he hasn't shown very much of his passing game so far."

Eddie jumped in insistently. "He may be good on the ground but you haven't seen Jackson's abilities yet. I tell you he is the best passer in the state. He can hit a fly at fifty yards while being blitzed, every single time." He puffed up a bit. "And you haven't seen me catch. I promise you that by the end of next season we will hold the state record for completions, yards and points scored as well as the state championship."

Jonathan grinned at Eddie and opened his mouth to add his opinion on him and Jackson when he suddenly froze. Something was not right. He was sure he had heard Kristen say his name quietly but in a very strained tone of voice at the same time that he became aware of her accelerated heart rate. For just a moment he hesitated at the realization that he actually recognized Kristen's heartbeat out of everyone in that large hall. He looked around, scanning the room for Kristen or some sign of trouble and soon spotted what he was looking for over by the main front doors into the entry hall.

He grabbed Justin's shoulder. "Justin, the girls are in trouble."

Justin glanced around. "Where?"

Jonathan pointed. "There, over by the doors." The other three boys looked in that direction he had pointed. Jonathan started moving as rapidly toward the girls as he dared without giving himself away.

***

Kristen took a step back as the three boys advanced waving their weapons threateningly. "Oh, Jonathan, I could sure use your help right now." She spoke so low that nobody would have heard her. Part of her wanted him here with her and part of her was afraid that if he showed up now it might give away his secret. She glanced over at Stephanie then the next instant Jonathan was stepping up between her and the three brothers.

Keith Johnson, the oldest, growled at Jonathan. "Not this time." He took a quick step forward while slashing overhand at Jonathan. Jonathan dodged surprisingly fast to the left and swung his fist up catching Keith in the wrist. Keith yelped as the knife came free of his hand and clattered to the floor. A half instant later Jonathan's other hand shot straight out. He caught Keith in the chest at the solar plexus with his flat palm, knocking the breath out of him. Keith staggered backwards gasping for air.

At the same time Keith was stumbling back, Lance and Marty came at Jonathan from both sides at once. Jonathan suddenly stepped back at the last possible moment while at the same time grabbing both boys and adding a little extra strength to their momentum causing them to run into each other rather forcefully. Only Kristen saw the knife skitter across Jonathan's ribs before twisting in Lance's hand from the force of the contact. An instant before the brothers collided, the pipe in Marty's hand just missed Jonathan's head and came down hard on Lance's shoulder. Lance yelled in pain, dropping the knife a split second before he collided with his brother. The two brothers bounced off each other and went down, stunned by the impact.

Keith came back swinging at Jonathan and would have blindsided him but at that instant Justin came up and blocked the blow. Then, before Keith could recover from the surprise of attack from this unexpected direction, Justin stepped in close and threw Keith to the ground. Eddie arrived at that moment and perched on Keith using his greater weight to hold the boy to the ground. Justin put his knee into Marty's back pinning him face down to the floor and Kristen perched on a groaning Lance who was too invested in the pain of his broken collar bone to give her any fight.

The whole fight had lasted only a couple of seconds then one of the teachers sprinted up to them. "All right, all right, what's going on here?" The vice-principal came quickly up behind the teacher, also demanding an explanation.

Stephanie was the first to respond as she pointed to the three brothers being held down on the floor by Justin, Kristen and Eddie. "Those three attacked Kristen and me with knives and that pipe." She pointed to the pipe section over near Jonathan's feet. "Jonathan and Justin came to our defense. Eddy arrived just as the fight was ending."

The teacher nodded in response to her hasty explanation just as Otto arrived. The referenced weapons were lying on the floor as mute testimony of the nature of the intended attack. The vice-principal replied calmly. "I see." He had noticed the slice through the front of Jonathan's dress jacket as further proof of who had been the armed aggressor. Then the vice-principal looked down at the floor and got a puzzled look on his face.

At the same moment Kristen looked up to see Jonathan looking down with his glasses perched at the end of his nose and frowning. She looked down to see the short pipe on the ground. She just had time for her mind to recognize the caps on the ends and the two wires coming out of one of the end caps when Jonathan stooped down, his eyebrows halfway to his hairline. He picked up the short length of pipe. Jonathan looked up at the teacher and the vice-principal. "This is a pipe bomb!"

The eyes of both the teacher and the vice-principal nearly bugged out of their heads as they too recognized the significance of the object in Jonathan's hand. The teacher turned toward the vice-principal who turned and spotted three other chaperones that were approaching them and barked out orders. "Get everyone out of the building, now!"

They both turned back to see Jonathan already making tracks out the front doors still carrying the pipe bomb. The vice-principal called out to him but he knew that Jonathan was already too far away to hear him above the growing babble around him. He wondered for a moment at how Jonathan had gotten so far so quickly then turned back to the more important job of clearing the students from the building.

Five minutes later, as the teachers were herding the students out into the parking lot, Superboy dropped down out of the sky. He landed beside the vice-principal who was desperately trying to direct the barely controlled chaos. "Is there a problem here?" Superboy asked politely, glancing at the milling crowd.

The vice-principal took a moment to recover from his surprise at meeting Superboy face to face. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Kristen, who had remained near him stepped forward and spoke up first. "Steph and I saw the Johnson brothers fooling around at the trophy case and then they attacked us. Afterwards Jonathan noticed that one of them was holding a pipe bomb."

At that point the vice-principal got his voice and took over. "Jonathan Kent ran out of here carrying the pipe bomb before I could stop him. I have no idea where he took it. We're evacuating because we don't know what else they might have left inside the building."

Superboy nodded as he responded. "I get the gist of it." He turned and strode quickly through the door into the building.

As soon as he had cleared the door Jonathan lifted up toward the ceiling and flew over to the trophy case. The glass doors were ajar and there inside he saw three more pipes with their wires connected to a crude mechanical alarm clock and a battery. It was a very primitive arrangement and dangerously unpredictable. He quickly saw that just trying to disconnect the battery and timer might set the bomb off. He glanced around and saw that the nearest doors were crowded with still evacuating students. With so many students still inside he couldn't risk the bomb going off here inside the building. He carefully picked up the whole device then rushed out the back doors of the building.

Everyone in the parking lot saw Superboy shoot straight up into the air from behind the main building accompanied by the characteristic sonic boom that he and his father made when they were in a big hurry. A half second later everyone in the parking lot saw a colorful silent explosion high up above them. Then a second and a half later they heard the louder deeper boom of the bomb.

Twenty seconds later Superboy floated down to the parking lot near the vice-principal. In his hands were two short pieces of split-open pipes and the charred remains of the clock. His face, hands, and the front of his suit were covered with smudges of black soot. As he landed he shrugged. "It went off." He handed the surprisingly cool fragments to the vice-principal. "Give these to the police when they arrive. I spotted Jonathan Kent over at the stadium headed back this way. It looks like he left the other piece of pipe in the middle of the field. It should be safe there till the police arrive."

Superboy then looked over at Kristen and Stephanie standing close by. "You two were very helpful. I might not have found the bomb in time if you hadn't told me where to look." He smiled at them both. "Thanks for your help." He cocked his head for a moment then turned to the vice-principal. "I have to go." He rose quickly up to about thirty feet then streaked off, leaving a whoosh and sonic boom in his wake.

Just as sirens could be heard approaching from a distance Jonathan came up to the small knot of teachers and his friends panting as though out of breath. "I put the pipe bomb out in the middle of the football field. I knew I had to get it as far away from everyone as I could in case it went off. The football field was the only place I could think of where it couldn't hurt anyone."

The vice-principal frowned. "That was a very foolish and dangerous thing to do. You could have been killed if it had gone off."

Jonathan shook his head. "I couldn't just leave it here where it could hurt or kill all of my friends. I just had to get it away from them."

The vice-principal sighed for the foolhardy stubbornness of teenagers. "Well, regardless of your reasons, don't ever endanger yourself like that again." He couldn't really bring himself to chastise the boy too harshly. He had, after all, committed a dangerous selfless act to protect the lives of everyone standing nearby.

As the vice-principal turned back to the rest of the students, Kristen reached up and rubbed at a smudge on Jonathan's cheek speaking quietly. "You missed a spot."

At that moment the police came charging into the parking lot and they were soon discussing the situation with the school staff and the students who had been involved. Once the facts were established the three Johnson brothers were loaded into a police car which took them away to jail. Everyone at the prom was kept out in the parking lot while the police bomb squad swept the building for any more bombs that might have been planted. Jonathan, Justin, Eddie, Kristen and Stephanie were questioned by the police and released. Ten minutes into the search they found a gym bag in a locked stall of the boys' restroom that had one more loaded pipe and enough extra components to make two more bombs.

As the gym bag was being brought out Kristen noticed Jonathan's father and mother both over at the other side of the parking lot, talking to the head of the bomb squad. A little while later Lois and Clark came over to where Justin, Kristen and their friends were standing.

Clark nodded to the small group of those that had been involved. "It seems you all had an interesting evening. I just talked to the officer in charge and he gave me the whole story. Now we would like to hear your versions of what happened."

Each of the teenagers gave a short description of what they had seen heard and done. Lois and Clark asked a few questions to get more detail and took down everything that they said.

After they had spoken to each of the teens Clark placed his hand on Jonathan's and Kristen's shoulders. "You both did very well and I'm very proud of you." He then swept the rest of the small group. "You all handled yourselves very well. If not for the clear thinking and quick action of all of you, this could have become a terrible disaster. You should all be proud of yourselves." He smiled at the small group. "Don't forget to check tomorrow's Daily Planet." He turned to Jonathan. "You have a good remainder of the evening and we'll see you when you get home." Lois and Clark turned and quickly made their way out of the parking lot.

A few seconds later Kristen saw Jonathan look up and followed his gaze. High up in the sky she could barely make out a tiny indistinct figure against the last rays of the setting sun moving rapidly toward downtown Metropolis. She looked down at Jonathan who was grinning back at her. He leaned in and whispered. "They have to hurry if they want to get the story into the morning edition."

About an hour later, once they were sure that the building had been swept clean of any more explosives, everyone was allowed back into the building so that what was left of the prom could continue.

Because of the interruption the rest of the prom was foreshortened. Instead of a ballot, the choice of King and Queen of the prom was made by asking the teens to call out their choices. By nearly unanimous acclamation Jonathan was voted King and Stephanie was voted Queen of the Prom. Everyone cheered them during the 'Royal Dance'. After the royal dance was over Stephanie and Jonathan returned to their own dates.

Jonathan took the crown from his own head and placed it on Kristen's head and smiled at her. "As far as *I'm* concerned *you* are the queen of *my* kingdom." He took her hands and twirled her onto the dance floor.

***

Chapter 9

Kristen was having a wonderful time at the prom and didn't want to leave but it was already eleven o'clock and her father was expecting her home by midnight. Several of the kids were making plans to go to a nearby all night diner and then they were going to go over to Centennial Park for a little 'romantic' coupling.

With a sly wink Stephanie asked Kristen and Jonathan. "Are you going to be coming with us?"

Kristen shook her head sadly. "Wish we could, but I've been given a strict midnight curfew by my father and we will have to be headed home soon."

A few minutes later Kristen and Jonathan stood out in the parking lot watching their friends head out to the meetomg at the diner. Kristen sighed as she waved to her departing friends. "I wish Daddy hadn't been so unreasonable," she commented softly as she lowered her hand.

Jonathan took her hand and gently brought her around to face him. "Um Kristen, I aah, I was wondering if you would like to go flying with me?"

Kristen's eyes got wide as her heart did a quick flip-flop accompanied by a little flutter in her stomach. "Here, now?" She could barely believe what she had just heard.

"If you would like to -- " He responded his eyes sparkling from the parking lot lights. "I would like to show you how the world looks from my viewpoint."

Kristen felt a tingle of excitement run up her spine and it took a moment for her to calm herself down enough to get out her answer. "*Oh, Yes,* I'd *love* it."

Jonathan glanced quickly around then took her hand. "This way." He led her around the corner of the main building to an isolated alcove between the main building and the E-wing of the school. There were no windows in that part of both buildings and the massive air conditioning units hid them from outside observation. Jonathan turned to face her and smiled. "No one can see us here."

With another quick glance around Jonathan became a blurred miniature tornado of shifting colors that a second later resolved itself into Superboy. Kristen gasped in amazement at the display of super speed.

Jonathan grinned at the amazed look on her face. "My dad taught me that little trick. Pretty impressive, hu."

"Wow!" She replied softly. Then she gave another exclamation of surprise as he scooped her up, one arm behind her back and the other behind her knees. She instinctively threw her arms around his neck as she thrilled to the feeling of being carried in his arms. She looked into his face and blushed.

Jonathan's grin widened. "Ready?" She felt goose bumps rise as the feel of being carried in his strong arms made her whole body tingle. She nodded mutely, her voice having momentarily deserted her, and tightened her arms around his neck very slightly in anticipation. Jonathan glanced around one more time. "Here we go."

Kristen felt herself become weightless, then she noticed the walls of the buildings dropping away and realized that they were already rising. In a surprisingly short time she saw the school grounds spread out far below her. She was hundreds of feet in the air, yet she felt safer in his arms than she would have thought possible. She looked into his eyes and he smiled warmly at her, once again making her feel tingly all over.

She looked around and saw the lights of downtown Metropolis. With a tiny gasp she realized that they were already higher than even the top of the Lexcorp Building. As she looked around at the fantastic sight, they continued to rise and soon she could see the entire city of Metropolis spread out far below them in a great pattern of twinkling lights. Then he stopped rising. "This is as high as I can go without becoming an air traffic hazard. It's well above the tourist and traffic choppers and it's well below the normal airline corridors."

Above them the quarter moon rode in a sea of more stars than she could ever remember having seen before. Kristen breathed a deep sigh. Her eyes gleamed with wonder as she gazed at the vista spread out below and above her.

"Beautiful isn't it." Jonathan remarked softly. "Sometimes I come up here to just relax and center myself with the rest of the universe." There was a soft wistful look on his face.

She sighed again. "It's incredible." She shifted her gaze to his face. "Especially seeing it like this -- with you."

Jonathan's smile brightened and to her it was like the sun coming out. He tilted his head and there was a definite fire in his eyes. "Have you ever danced on air?" He waggled his eyebrows as a hint of mischief crossed his face.

She blinked then shook her head wondering what he had in mind as she slowly answered. "Nooo, can't say as I have."

She gasped in surprise as she found herself suddenly standing upright face to face with Jonathan. Despite the change in her position the feeling of weightlessness persisted. Her arms were still around Jonathan's neck and his arm behind her shoulders had not moved, but his other hand was now riding low on her back very close to dangerous territory and her toes were resting on top of his feet. She became aware of soft romantic music as Jonathan began to sway to its gentle beat. She found herself swaying with him.

After a moment she asked, a hint of wonder in her voice. "Where is that music coming from?"

He grinned shyly. "I have a small player clipped to my belt."

"You were planning this all along?" She accused as she smiled up into his sparkling eyes.

He blushed. "Yea, But until just now I wasn't sure I could get up enough nerve to try it." He ducked his head. "I wanted to do something special but I was a little afraid you would think I was just trying to show off to impress you."

Her smile widened as she ducked her head to look in his eyes. "You are showing off to impress me -- and I love it."

His head came up and the sun came out in his eyes. He twirled them around and soon they were spinning and swooping and swaying to the soft romantic music coming from his player. Her whole body tingled and she felt warm all over as she realized that they really were dancing across the sky. She soon discovered that she could even influence the direction of their movement by shifting her body. Before long she was completely lost in the experience.

The next thing she knew he pulled her body up against his and they were kissing. It was a soft, almost sweetly hesitant kiss, a first love's kiss. She felt a warm tingling spread through her until she melted against him tightening her arms around his neck as they slowly spun in place. Seconds later their lips parted from each other and they stared into each other's eyes as they continued to dance through the sky.

A too short eternity later she felt her feet touch ground and gravity returned. Kristen reluctantly pulled her eyes away from Jonathan's and looked around. They were standing in a deeply shadowed corner between two brownstones. She glanced through the space between the buildings and saw that they were directly across the street from her home.

"It's nearly midnight." Jonathan's smile softened. "And I promised your father that I'd have you home by midnight." He stepped back then blurred into a miniature blue and red tornado. A second later the tornado turned dark and when it stopped Superboy was gone and Jonathan stood before her adjusting his glasses.

"Wow!" Was all she could get out.

The two of them faced each other for a moment then on impulse she threw her arms around him and kissed him. This kiss had far more passion in it than the others and it sent a powerful shock of lightning through both of them. They both gasped when they separated as their bodies continued to tingle from the effects of that kiss.

This time they both breathed out a soft "Wow!" They gazed at each other for several seconds, lost in their emotions.

After a moment to recover his wits Jonathan reluctantly removed his arms from around Kristen and she reluctantly removed her arms from around his neck with a sigh.

Jonathan bent his elbow toward her. "It's time for me to get you home."

Kristen sighed again then took his elbow. "I guess we have to go."

They stepped out from their hidden location and strolled across the street to her front door. On the front stoop they stopped and again faced each other. Kristen smiled shyly. "I feel a little like Cinderella having to leave her prince behind at the ball at midnight."

Jonathan leaned in for a gentle, almost chaste kiss. Then he smiled and responded softly. "Only this time the prince already knows where to find his Cinderella and they both know they will be seeing each other again soon." Jonathan took a step back. "I will see you soon, Kristen."

Kristen turned unlocked and opened the door and started in. Then, just inside the door she turned back and faced him. "Bye, Jonathan. See you at school, Monday." She stepped back and gently closed the door.

Jonathan paused a second after the door closed then, after a quick look around, shot straight up into the night air at just a little over half the speed of sound. There was no sonic boom to disturb the neighbors but if anyone had been outside at that moment their eyes would have been drawn upward by a joyous yell from high in the air and they would have seen a dark figure doing loops and barrel rolls a thousand feet above the rooftops. Then the dark figure blurred into the familiar blue and red and shot off toward downtown where a few startled night workers spotted that same blue and red figure doing high speed loops around some of the tallest buildings.

A minute later a second blue and red figure approached and the aerobatics ceased. As Jonathan and Clark approached each other in the sky above Metropolis the father took in the face of his son that seemed to be having trouble deciding whether to settle on chagrin or joy.

Clark tilted his head barely holding back an amused smile as he spoke. "I take it the prom date was an overall success."

The joy won the battle on Jonathan's face and his eyes lit up as he replied. "Oh, yes! -- It was wonderful."

Clark chuckled then nodded. "That's fine Son." He raised his eyebrows as he continued. "Now -- Why don't you take Jimmy's car back to him, then we can do a quick patrol of the city before returning home."

Jonathan blinked in surprise. "The car. I almost forgot." He streaked off back toward the school.

Twenty minutes later Jonathan rejoined his father and together they flew over Metropolis making sure everything was safe and secure.

***

Christopher had been in his bed half dozing and occasionally glancing out of his open window when he caught sight of something blue and red and maroon drop out of the sky and disappear into the dark narrow space between the two brownstones across the street. He sat up and stared at the opening for a few minutes to see what would happen next. A short time later he saw Jonathan in his dark dress suit and Kristen in her maroon prom dress step out from between the two buildings and head across the street.

He jumped out of bed and headed down the stairs. There was now no possible doubt in his mind that Jonathan Kent and Superboy were one and the same. His little sister had gone to the prom and gone flying with Superboy. He reached the family room and saw his father half dozing in the recliner as he heard Kristen's key in the front door.

Paul woke-up with a start at the sound of the keys in the door and saw his son standing over him and grinning. Christopher announced. "Kristen is home -- safe and sound."

They both looked toward the door into the front hall as the front door opened and heard Kristen telling Jonathan goodnight. The front door closed and a few seconds later saw Kristen walking past the door to the family room. Christopher called out. "How did your date go, Sis?"

***

Chapter 10

Kristen gently closed the front door then rested her forehead momentarily against it as she breathed a deep satisfied sigh. After a second she turned and seemed to drift in a warm haze toward the stairway. Halfway to the base of the stairs she was drawn out of her dazed state by the voice of her brother.

"How did your date go, Sis?"

Kristen looked over into the family room to see her father and brother both staring back at her. She took a breath then replied in a sigh. "It was wonderful." Her smile took on soft romantic overtones as she recalled dancing across the skies of Metropolis in Jonathan's arms.

Her father frowned, unsure what to make of the dreamy look on his daughter's face. "What did you do at the prom?"

She focused in on her father and brother, her smile becoming one of deep satisfaction. After a pause of a couple of seconds she replied. "We danced."

Christopher remarked with a hint of a smirk on his face. "I take it, you enjoyed dancing with Jonathan?"

Kristen's smile became even dreamier as she replied. "Like dancing on air."

Father and son, both with raised eyebrows, looked at each other as Kristen turned and drifted up the stairs to her room, still lost in her dreamy fog.

Paul's eyebrows were raised in surprise and uncertainty with a hint of worry mixed in. He had seen that same look before on his wife's face, usually after a bout of lovemaking. Just how close had Kristen and that boy gotten while they were out on tonight's date? He wasn't sure he liked where this line of thought was taking him.

Christopher's eyebrows were raised in surprise and speculation with a hint of amusement mixed in. When she had said 'dancing on air' was she speaking figuratively or literally? Considering who she had been out with, she could have meant it either way. He silently cheered for his little sister. It looked like she had ended up with a good one.

As the gaze of both males turned toward the top of the stairs they were both thinking the same thing 'tomorrow morning there would be questions.'

***

High above Superman and Superboy drifted along in silence on a last pass over Metropolis before retiring for the night.

Clark grinned at the dreamy smile he saw plastered on his son's face. After a short while, he broke the silence. "Your mother and I were on our way back from the 'Planet' when I heard music coming from out of midair. We saw you with Kristen dancing on air about a thousand feet away and about a dozen feet above us."

Jonathan looked over at his father in surprise. "You saw us?" He felt the heat rise in his face at the realization that his parents had witnessed that little interlude.

Clark chuckled at his son's reaction. "Yes, we saw you." He paused a moment, watching the expressions passing across his son's face before continuing. "If the two of you had pulled your attention away from each other long enough to look around you, you might have noticed your mother and I doing the same thing not too far away."

Jonathan's eyes opened wide. "You and Mom were dancing on air?" He asked incredulously.

Clark chuckled and responded. "We call it 'Sky Dancing', and we've done it many times." He tilted his head in amusement. "Though it has never occurred to us to bring along our own music like you did."

"But you're old." Jonathan remarked incredulously.

Clark laughed outright at the look on his son's face. "We're not that old."

Jonathan took a few moments to absorb this new aspect of his parents. Apparently the concept of 'Sky Dancing' was not as unique as he had thought. Finally he asked his father a question that had just occurred to him. "When was the first time you and Mom went sky dancing?"

Clark smile at the memory his son's question had conjured up. "About a month after she learned my secret identity."

Jonathan's eyes opened wider. "Wow, just like me and Kristen."

Clark chuckled. "In a way."

Father and son flew for a while in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts, until the sound of a fire alarm drew their attention. They glanced at each other, nodded and dived toward the location of the emergency.

***

As Paul made his way down to the kitchen, his mind continued to swirl around his worries about his daughter and that boy, Jonathan Kent. As he sat down at the table he cut loose with a huge yawn and picked up the morning paper. When he opened the rolled-up paper the headline practically screamed at him and he was suddenly wide awake.

*Senior Prom Interrupted By Pipe Bomb Scare*

Paul scanned quickly through the article, getting more agitated as he read. According to the article it had been more than just a scare. There had been a real live pipe bomb that had gone off within seconds after Superboy had removed it from the building. "Sharron!" He called out.

"Yes, honey, what's wrong?" Sharron responded as she rushed up to the table where Paul sat.

He passed the paper over to her. "Have you seen this?"

She glanced at the paper then did a double take as the headline sunk in. "A bomb at Kristen's prom?" She plopped down into the chair and began reading the article. Her eyes got wider as she got further into the story. How could something like this happen?

Pauls mind kept revolving around the same questions. Why had she said nothing about this last night? Why had she acted the way she did? It was as though she had been completely unaware of what had happened at the school. For that matter why had he not heard that boy's loud car drive up last night when she got home? Something was not right here and the possibilities that were running through his mind were really beginning to get to him.

Both parents were distracted by the sound of Kristen bouncing noisily down the stairs. As they looked up they saw Kristen practically skipping into the room with a happy grin on her face and humming one of the currently popular romantic ballads. She seemed totally oblivious to their stares as she opened the refrigerator and stood there humming while she perused the contents.

"*Kristen!*" Paul called out a bit sharply.

Kristen turned around holding a carton of orange juice and looked uncomprehendingly at her father. At the same time Christopher arrived with a screeching halt at the door arrested by the tone in their father's voice.

"What do you know about this?" Paul spoke severely as he poked a bit forcefully at the newspaper lying on the table.

"Know about what?" She inquired finally noticing her father's demeanor and wondering what he was so upset about.

Christopher moved forward to see what it was that his father was pointing to. His eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead as he read the bold type upside-down headline.

"What do you mean 'what'?" Paul ground out. "Were you even at that dance you were supposed to be going to?" A horrible suspicion had begun to form in Paul's mind.

Stung by her father's words and annoyed that her father would doubt her, Kristen stepped up to the table and read the headline. She had forgotten that Jonathan's parents had been there. She certainly hadn't expected her father to find out about it this quickly. Then as the meaning of her father's words really sank in she became angry at her father's accusation and rebellion set in. "How *dare* you say that to me -- if you've read about it then you know that I was there!" She spat out as she glared angrily at her father.

Her angry rebuttal shocked both parents. Paul responded. "What do you mean? What do you know about this?"

Kristen plopped down in a chair and started scanning the article. Christopher had come up behind her and began reading over her shoulder. The article was a fairly accurate description of what had happened with one thing missing. None of the kids involved were named in the article. "Well?" Paul was getting impatient. "What do you have to say? What were you and that boy *doing* last night?"

Stung even more by her father's renewed and more obvious accusation; Kristen's rebellious anger flared as she finally responded. "Yea, that's what happened." She glared at her father. "The three boys that brought the bomb were the Johnson brothers. The two girls that they assaulted were Stephanie and me, so yea I was there all right. In fact I was right in the *middle* of the whole freakin thing." She glanced at her mother who was looking back in shock, then glared back at her father. "And it was *Jonathan* and one of his friends that came to our defense so I *resent* your dirty little implications." She jumped up from her seat and ran out of the room and up the stairs.

Paul looked after his daughter in stunned surprise. He and Kristen had always been close and she had never yelled at him like that before. He glanced back to see sympathy in his wife's eyes but was surprised to see frank disapproval in his son's eyes.

Finally Christopher spoke. "You really blew it this time, dad." He shook his head. "You jumped right in with the accusations without even giving her a chance to tell you what really happened. Not to mention implying some pretty terrible things about Jonathan who, I happen to know, is a very nice boy that Kristen happens to be very sweet on right now." He sighed and turned to go up to see if he could calm his sister down before the situation got any worse.

Paul looked at his wife in surprise. "But -- but I -- "

Sharron put her hands over his hands. "They're right Paul." She took a deep breath. "Right from the start, you have been on that boy's case. You have not once given him a fair shake. And the kind of things that you were practically accusing them both of was unforgivable, especially considering what they both apparently went through last night."

"But she -- "

Again Sharron interrupted him. "I know she shouldn't have yelled at you like that but, considering what you just said about her and the boy that became her hero last night, I can't really blame her for the way she reacted."

***

Christopher hesitated at the door to Kristen's room trying to figure out just what to say. He wanted her to know that he understood her side of things but he didn't think he should tell her why he had so much faith in Jonathan. The fewer people that knew Jonathan's secret the better and he was pretty sure that he was not on the approved list for that knowledge. In fact it was probably best if he just locked that secret away and never mentioned it to anyone.

He softly knocked on her door. "Kristen, it's Chris. Can I come in?"

He heard a muffled sniffling sound from inside the room then after a long time the door opened about an inch and he saw one slightly bloodshot eye peer out. Oh, boy, she had been crying. Dad's words had really hurt her, a lot. She quietly stepped back pulling the door open then went over to flop back down on her bed. Christopher stepped into her room and closed the door behind him. He then walked hesitantly over to her bed and sat down beside her. All the while he kept trying to figure out just what he could say to her to make her feel better and maybe smooth things over between her and their father.

***

Paul looked forlornly at his wife as the size of his blunder came crashing down on his shoulders. "How do I fix this? What do I say to her?"

***

Chapter 11

Christopher looked down at his very unhappy sister. She was curled up in her bed with her back toward him. The things their father had said to her were so wrong and she was really hurt. What could he say to her to fix things? Right now he was pretty angry at their father over the whole incident but he knew that he had to do something before things got any worse.

Christopher reached out and gently touched her shoulder. She shrugged away his hand. Again he touched her shoulder and this time closed his hand so that she couldn't just shrug it away. "Kristen, please talk to me."

After a couple of seconds she looked up over her shoulder at her brother with tear-reddened eyes but said nothing.

Christopher took a deep breath touched by the hurt in his sister's eyes. Finally he spoke. "Kristen, there are reasons why Dad acted the way he did." Christopher held up his hand when she opened her mouth. "Just hear me out. I'm not excusing Dad's actions. I just want you to understand why he responded the way he did." He took another breath trying to organize his thoughts. "It's all tied up with what happened to Aunt Katy when she was your age and a junior in high school. The fact that you look so much like your Aunt Katy just strengthens the connection in Dad's mind."

Kristen sat up and turned to face her brother. "What about Aunt Katy?" Like her brother, Kristen had always felt close to their Aunt Katy. To some extent the similarity in their appearance had fostered that closeness.

Christopher felt that now that he had her full attention, maybe he had a chance to smooth things over. He only hoped that Aunt Katy would forgive him for revealing some of the things that she had told him in confidence. He was also about to reveal some things about himself that he was not particularly proud of. "When I was a senior in high school, I got involved with some unsavory characters. There were five of us; one of them was Keith Johnson."

Kristen sat up a bit straighter looking back at her brother in surprise. She knew that her brother had had a few problems during his senior year and that her brother had known Keith but had not been aware that the two things were related.

"We got this hairbrained idea, I think it was Keith that originally suggested it. We were each going to invite less-than-popular girls to the 'Fall Dance' then make fun of them and dump them." Christopher blushed with shame at what they planned that night. "I don't really know if I could have gone through with it or not. Anyway, Aunt Katy worked part time in the school library and somehow she got wind of what we were planning. She cornered me one day after school and we had a long talk." He saw the surprise and disbelief in his sister's eyes. "She told me what happened to her. It changed my mind. On the night of the dance I treated my intended victim with perfect courtesy and tried my best to see to it that she had a great time. Keith and Joe, however, went way too far. They were caught in the act and expelled. I think Keith believes that I ratted him out but I'm pretty sure that it was Aunt Katy that alerted those in charge about the plot."

Kristen looked thoughtfully back at her brother as she mulled over what he had told her. "What did Aunt Katy tell you?"

Christopher continued. "When Aunt Katy was a junior, the most popular boy in school invited her to the Senior Prom. They stopped at the park on the way to the dance and she let him go much further than she should have. Later at the dance the boy publicly humiliated her. Things got pretty bad after that and two weeks later she tried to jump off the Hobbs River Bridge. If Superman had not caught her, she would not be alive today." He stared at her for a while watching her absorb what he had told her. Finally he placed both hands on her shoulders as he continued. "Dad saw all this happen to his little sister and it really got to him. Aunt Katy said that Dad almost went after that boy with a baseball bat but she talked him out of it. I think Dad is scared to death that the same thing could happen to you. That is why he pulled that 'cleaning the gun' stunt last night and why he overreacted this morning. What Dad did was wrong but he did have his reasons."

Christopher dropped his hands and there was a long period of silence as they stared at each other. Thoughts and emotions swirled through Kristen's mind. She knew that Superman had once saved Aunt Katy's life but this was the first time she had heard any details about the incident. The few times she had asked about it everyone had avoided the subject.

Finally Christopher stood up. "Please just keep what I told you in mind the next time you speak with Dad." He turned and left his sister's room.

***

Sharron looked into her husband's forlorn eyes as the scope of his blunder sank in. She squeezed his hand. "You owe her a very large and sincere apology and an honest attempt to win back her respect." She squeezed his hands again. "Right now what she needs more than anything else is the assurance that she still has her father's trust and love."

"But how? How do I fix this?" He looked into his wife's eyes looking for an answer.

"The first thing you have to do is go up there and apologize to her." Sharron told him. She frowned. "And it must be whole hearted. No excuses, no evasions, just a simple straightforward sincere apology."

"She won't listen to me, not after the things that I just said to her." Paul shook his head in despair.

"Maybe not, but she will hear you and, eventually, what you say to her will sink in." Sharon responded. "The next thing you must do is let go of what happened to your sister. Stop letting it color your outlook on your daughter's life. Then you must get to really know this boy that she is interested in. Find out what he is really like."

"How do I do that?" He shrugged.

"Invite him over to dinner tonight -- or better yet, since Kristen has to work this evening, invite him over for lunch and he can go to the park with us this afternoon. Just show Kristen that you really want to get to know him without being hostile." Sharron placed her hand on her husband's chest. "But first things first." She half turned him around toward the doorway into the front hall. "Go up there right now and apologize to her." She gave him a gentle push to get him moving.

Paul stopped at the foot of the stairs and stared at the ground for a couple of minutes going over in his mind what he should say. As fast as he would come up with something he would reject it. He was basically a proud man and nearly everything he came up with usually boiled down to trying to justify his mistakes. He also found that he was working himself up into a state of righteous indignation over his assumptions that he felt made sense to him at the time.

He finally had to stop and force himself to calm down. This was getting him nowhere. He slowly got himself under control and finally tried again to figure out what to say. When he tried to consciously avoid justification he ended up trying to excuse or, at least, mitigate his error. Again he was working his way into a stubborn 'it's not my fault' mentality.

Again he had to stop and force himself to calm down. 'This is getting me nowhere. Just go up there and, like Sharron said, give her a straightforward sincere apology,' he told himself.

Paul heard a door close and looked up the stairs to see his son moving down the hall away from Kristen's room. He forced himself to take the first step up the stairs. He slowly climbed up the stairs still trying to come up with the right words. Finally he found himself standing before the door to his daughter's room and he still didn't know what he should say.

After a couple of minutes he raised his hand to knock but then let it drop silently to his side. He continued to stand there facing her door. This was a lot harder than he had expected. He just couldn't seem to come up with the right words. Everything came out sounding either lame, insincere or self-serving. Finally he thought 'To hell with it, just knock on the damn door and hope for the best.'

He again raised his hand, paused two seconds then softly rapped on her door. It was too late to turn back now. He had to say something. "Kristen? Kristen, it's your father -- I -- I just wanted to apologize to you. I never should have said those things to you. This isn't the time or the place to get into why I reacted the way that I did and it really has nothing to do with you or that boy. All I can say is, I let my own fears get the better of me and I made assumptions and over reacted without even trying to find out what was really going on and I'm sorry that I hurt you -- " He took a two deep breaths and released them. "I only hope that you will eventually be able to forgive me for my foolishness. I just want things to go back to the way they were between us." He took another deep breath and turned away before he said any more.

It had been very hard to stop speaking when he had. He wanted to keep talking, to explain himself, to excuse himself. With great effort he forced himself to hold his tongue and he slowly made his way downstairs. He had done what he could; now he had to give her time to calm down and think about what he said. He hoped that he had not damaged their relationship beyond repair and that his apology would work.

***

By the time Paul finally returned to the breakfast room his wife was setting down her phone. She looked up as he entered the room. "Well?"

Paul shrugged. "I don't know. Her door was closed and she didn't say anything but I think she heard me." He hung his head. "I really messed up this time, didn't I?"

Sharron nodded. "Yes, you did, but -- She really loves you and I think it will work out in the end." She took a deep breath. "I hope you have got yourself under control because I just got off the phone with Jonathan and his father. I have invited Jonathan to go to the park with us for a picnic lunch. He will be over in two hours and you are going to have to make nice with him and be convincing both to him and to Kristen." She cocked her head, eyes narrowed and a slight quirk to her mouth. "Can you do that? Can you forget about what happened to Katy and treat that boy like he was a nice kid that you would like Kristen to be with?"

Paul glanced at the floor then looked her in the eye. "I will do my best."

Sharron looked back at him silently for a couple of seconds then spoke. "Try imagining that he is someone that you would really want to have dating your daughter." She shrugged then a gleam appeared in her eyes and she grinned. "Try pretending that it is Superboy that wants to go out with her."

Paul snorted. "Yea right, like that is likely to happen." Then a sheepish smile crept across his face. "I'm not sure if I could even accept Superboy as being good enough for Kristen."

Sharron shook her head and rolled her eyes as she reached out and playfully swatted his chest. "Fathers!" She exclaimed then giggled. "You're all alike. I don't think any father thinks that any boy is good enough for his daughter." She shook her head. "Well if we are going to have a guest over and go to the park for lunch then I had better start getting everything ready."

Paul continued standing there thinking over the idea of Kristen dating Superboy. After a while he shook his head. "Naw. Never gonna happen." That thought reminded him of the car that boy had been driving and he smiled to himself then turned and headed for the master bedroom. He had better get himself ready and he needed to do a little work on his own mental state.

***

For a long time Kristen lay on her bed mulling over what her father had just said and what her brother had told her. She really hated being so mad at her father. As a little girl she had practically worshiped him. He had always been there when she needed him. When things went wrong she could count on him to be able to make everything better.

She had always tried her best to make him proud of her. Maybe that was why his words had hurt so much. She looked over at her closed door. He had told her that he was sorry and, no matter how bad his words had made her feel, she didn't want to lose the special relationship that they had always had. She wanted her 'daddy' back.

She sat up in bed and stared uncertainly at her closed door. Maybe she should go out there and talk to him, try to patch things up with him. She glanced over at her clock and realized that over an hour had passed. Pulling her courage and determination together she stood up and started toward the door. She had only taken two steps when someone knocked at her door followed by her mother's voice. "Kristen?"

"Yes Mom?" She responded.

"The whole family is going to Centennial Park in about an hour. You need to start getting ready."

Kristen thought a moment then sighed. She wasn't really in the mood for an outing in the park but maybe it would be a chance for her and her father to patch things up. She sighed again. "OK Mom. I'll be ready."

"We will have a guest with us, so dress nicely." Her mother threw in before walking away from the door.

'Great!' she thought as she stomped over to her closet. "So much for having any time for just Dad and me." She heaved a sigh of resignation as she began changing into clothes that would be appropriate for the park.

***

Chapter 12

Kristen came down from her room dressed for an afternoon at the park. The things her brother had told her, and her father's apology, were whirling around in her mind. She was still a little bit angry and upset over the things her father had said but she was determined to not let it ruin her day. She noticed that her father was in the family room and felt her determination and courage slipping so she went back to the kitchen to help her mother and to avoid her father.

Sharron was busy putting together a picnic lunch and Kristen pitched in to help. Kristen was curious about the guest and was about to ask when the doorbell rang. She heard the door open and her father saying something unintelligible. A minute later her father called out "Let's get a move on. The cab will be here soon."

Kristen grabbed up the backpack that her mother had been packing lunch in and called out that they were coming. When they reached the front entry Paul and Christopher were standing there waiting. What really surprised Kristen was that Jonathan was standing in the entry with her father and brother.

"Jonathan?" Kristen stared at him in surprise. She quickly glanced at her father who appeared to be studying Jonathan, who was saying something to Christopher. The first thing that went through her mind was that she needed to get him aside and warn him about her father's accusations.

Jonathan looked over at her as his face lit up with that fifty megawatt smile of his. "Hi, Kristen." He replied. "I got a call this morning inviting me to the park with your family." He stepped toward her and before she could do or say anything he enveloped her in a big hug then released her. "I had a great time last night, Kristen, and I'm looking forward to spending time with your family."

After a second to get over her surprise, Kristen glanced, a bit apprehensively, over at her father. He was frowning but he didn't look angry. Then she responded. "I had a wonderful time last night, too." She glanced again at her father. "I'm glad you can come to the park with us today."

There was the sound of two short honks from outside. "Taxi's here." Paul announced as he glanced at his watch. "Seems to be a bit early."

Sharron grabbed the backpack containing their lunch from the floor where Kristen had just set it. "Come on everyone, can't keep the taxi waiting." She started shooing everyone toward the front door.

As they piled into the minivan taxicab Jonathan was quick to seat himself with Kristen in the back seat. Christopher also took the back seat on the other side of Kristen from Jonathan. Paul and Sharron ended up in the middle seat. Kristen again thought about warning Jonathan about her father but there was no way to do so discreetly.

Paul glanced over his shoulder at the three young people in the back as the taxi pulled out. "I heard things got a little interesting on your date last night."

Jonathan nodded. "That's an understatement. Did you see Mom and Dad's article in the paper this morning?"

"Yes I did." Paul replied.

"The only problem is it didn't mention Kristen and Stephanie's names. They kept their heads when those Johnson kids threatened them and afterward told Superboy where to look for the bomb. He probably wouldn't have found that bomb in time otherwise. Their clear thinking probably saved a lot of kids."

"Kristen said that it was you that came to her rescue." Paul remarked.

"Well me and a couple of other guys to be precise but I think that the girls were doing a pretty good job of holding their own when we arrived." Jonathan responded. "It was her cool head that kept things from getting out of hand."

"Well anyway I want to thank you for coming to her aid none-the-less." Paul remarked.

A few minutes later the taxi stopped just inside the park and everyone climbed out. Paul paid the driver and they headed into the park making for Centennial Lake.

Jonathan placed his arm across Kristen's shoulders as they walked. Kristen was aware that her father was watching them and she still hadn't had an opportunity to warn Jonathan about the problem with her father. She thought that she should do something about his arm around her but she didn't want to hurt Jonathan's feeling by shrugging off his arm without an explanation. She glanced over at her father and saw him frowning back at her and Jonathan.

Kristen gritted her teeth a moment in frustration. The most frustrating aspect of the situation was the knowledge that she could change everything by simply telling her father about Jonathan's secret. But she knew that she could not do that because she would never betray Jonathan's trust like that. Keeping his secret was turning out to be more of a strain than she had ever realized. Finally Kristen decided to relax and take the attitude that she was in-love with Jonathan and if her father didn't like it that was tough. He would just have to learn to deal with it.

A few minutes later, as they were walking along the path that circled Centennial Park Lake, Jonathan had dropped his arm from around her back and took hold of her hand. She glanced over at her father then shifted her hand slightly interlacing her fingers through his. All the while the innocuous conversation continued without so much as a pause.

As Paul had been watching Kristen and Jonathan he noticed that Jonathan was definitely acting like more than just a friend toward Kristen. Though he behaved a bit more familiarly toward Kristen than Paul might have liked, Jonathan never crossed the line. For her part Kristen appeared to really enjoy the attention but seemed to exhibit some nervousness whenever she glanced at her father. It made Paul feel a bit guilty that her enjoyment was dampened by his presence. It made him even more determined to somehow repair his relationship with his daughter.

They were all startled by the sound of a sonic boom and looked up to see a tiny blue and red figure flying northward moving very fast. "He's really hauling ass." Christopher commented.

"It must be something pretty serious if he is moving that fast." Jonathan remarked.

Kristen glanced over at Jonathan wondering if he was going to have to run off but he seemed unconcerned. She raised her eyebrows in a questioning glance. Jonathan leaned in close. "As he passed over the park he called out that he could handle the situation by himself, but you would need super hearing to have heard it." His grin widened. "Of course he could just be in a hurry to meet Mom."

Kristen giggled. Then at the curious looks on the faces of her family she shrugged then explained. "Jonathan suggested that Superman might just be in a hurry to meet the missus." Jonathan shrugged as everyone else laughed.

***

They had been strolling along the path that circles the lake for about an hour when Paul announced, "Here we are." They had arrived at a popular picnic area located on the shore of the lake near the Centennial Park Band Shell

Sharron set out their lunch on one of the picnic tables that dotted the area. The fact that Jonathan and Kristen were seated just about as close as they could without being in each other's laps did not escape Paul's notice. Soon everyone was digging into their meals as the topics of conversation flowed from the weather to the latest movies. By the time they had finished eating the subject was humorous anecdotes about life in the Kent household.

Jonathan suddenly stopped talking and looked up. A moment later the rest of the family followed his gaze. Then a second after that they all saw the small commuter jet approaching from the east flying way too low over the park and descending. There was thick smoke trailing out of one of the two engines that were located just in front of the plane's tail. Kristen glanced at Jonathan and saw him looking desperately for any form of concealment nearby. There was none.

Then there was a loud boom echoing from overhead and Kristen looked back up to see the body of the plane starting to skitter sideways and roll as a large chunk of the tail section was tumbling toward the ground. The panicked people were running in all directions. Superman appeared, shooting in from the north, and caught the main body of the plane. At this distance they could all see Superman struggling to control the movement of the awkward burden. Three seconds later the tail section hit the lake and exploded causing a series of waves that overturned many of the small boats scattered across the lake.

Paul stared out at the lake in horror as he heard all the cries for help coming from so many of the people that had been dumped into the lake. Superman currently had his hands full trying to bring body of the plane down safely. Who was going to help those people in the water? Then Paul spotted Jonathan running toward the lake and a moment later Paul and Christopher were both running toward the lake as well. Jonathan dived into the water followed closely by Paul and Christopher.

A few seconds later Kristen followed them into the lake. She heard her mother call out to her to stay back but she figured it was about time she made use of those lifesaving lessons that her parents had made her take when she was fifteen.

A few others in the area saw what Kristen's family was doing and also dove into the water to help. Soon there were over a dozen people out there in the lake trying to help others to safety. Paul quickly lost track of Jonathan as he and Christopher became occupied with helping a group of panicked kids. A couple of seconds later Paul and Christopher both saw Superboy shoot up out of the water so fast that very few people caught it, then loop around and pause for a moment. The next second Superboy was shooting back down toward the lake. Paul and Christopher were soon too busy helping those around them get to the relative safety of nearby capsized, but still floating, boats to pay much attention to anything else.

It didn't take long for everyone to become aware that Superboy had shown up and was plucking struggling people out of the water and depositing them on the shore. Christopher and Paul had just finished getting all of the kids to the relative safety of their capsized boat when they both noticed that Superboy nodded appreciatively at them then dived back into the water. The next instant Superboy rose out of the water with another person that had been on the brink of drowning.

As he glanced around for someone else to help Paul spotted Kristen about thirty feet away pulling another teenager toward another capsized boat. The next instant Paul was aware of Christopher who was also pulling a middle-aged woman toward the boat next to him. Paul looked around, his brow furrowed with worry. "Where is Jonathan?"

Christopher assisted the woman as she got a grip on the boat, then pointed into a large group as he replied. "I saw him go over that way, then I lost sight of him."

Paul shook his head. "I just hope he's OK." He thought he heard his wife's voice calling out but he had turned his attention to the next person in need of assistance and had no attention left to pay to her. He would worry about that later.

***

Paul had only been in the water for about twenty minutes but he felt like he had been at it for hours when he became aware of the sound of approaching sirens. He glanced around and saw Superboy lifting a boat full of the same children he had been helping earlier. Superboy deposited the boat on the shore near where Paul saw his wife standing. She immediately took charge of the scared kids and Superboy returned to the water. Paul then glanced around and spotted Kristen clinging to a righted boat and helping some people get into it. She looked as exhausted as he felt. The next instant Paul felt himself grabbed and lifted out of the water and set on the ground next to his wife and his very tired son. Superboy shot back out over the water and a few seconds later returned carrying another boat full of people which he set on the ground next to them. Then he reached into the boat and helped Kristen step out of it.

At that moment Lois Lane-Kent and a man carrying a camera came running up. "Superboy! Superboy!" Jonathan turned to face his mother and struck the classic stern heroic pose that Superman often used but Christopher and Kristen both caught the hint of a twinkle in both Lois and Jonathan's eyes. "Thank God you were here!" Lois called as she came to a stop next to Jonathan.

"It was no big thing. I was just trying to help out." Jonathan replied then waved toward Kristen, Paul and Christopher. "You should be thanking these brave people. I was never in any danger but they actually risked their lives in order to help those in the water. Without their help I would never have been able to get to everyone in time. They're the real heroes." He looked over at Kristen and smiled. "You did very well out there." He glanced over at the approaching emergency vehicles. "I think the authorities can handle it from here." He gave Kristen another smile then took off and quickly disappeared.

Lois turned to the photographer beside her. "Jimmy, get some shots of these people, then get more background shots of the area." She then turned back to Kristen's family. "Lois Lane, Daily Planet." She smiled. "I have already met Kristen and I would like to meet the rest of your family."

Kristen introduced her family and Lois proceeded to interview them about what they had witnessed and what they had done. A few minutes into the interview a soaking wet Jonathan arrived. He told them that he had ended up helping on the other side of the lake.

Soon they were surrounded by emergency workers who were checking everyone over for injuries. Lois and Jimmy excused themselves and headed over to the large open area where Superman had set down the main body of the plane.

***

Chapter 13

Paul shrugged under the weight of the blanket that the emergency crews had placed across his wet shoulders. He was savoring the warmth of Sharron's arms around him as he glanced over at his son, sitting across the picnic table from him and also huddled under one of the emergency blankets. Christopher was staring out over the picnic grounds toward the lake as the last of the injured were loaded into the last of the ambulances. The shoreline was swarming with various government officials that were here to investigate the airplane accident. They were currently examining the tail section of the airplane that Superman had lifted out of the lake and set on the shore a half hour ago.

Superboy hadn't been seen since the last of the people had been rescued from the lake and Superman had left right after giving his report to the authorities. Paul spotted Clark Kent over by the tail section interviewing an FAA official.

Paul's attention shifted over to the right of his son where Kristen and Jonathan sat close together sharing the blanket that covered their wet clothes. His opinion of that young man had completely turned a hundred and eighty degrees around from what it had been this morning. He was thinking that maybe he should say something to them when he caught his daughter looking back at him almost defiantly as she shifted even closer to Jonathan.

Paul smiled back. "Kristen, Christopher." His gaze flicked between his two children. "I just want you to know that I am very proud of both of you." His gaze now shifted to Jonathan. "Jonathan, I want you to know that I am very impressed by you as well. You never hesitated to dive in to help all those people. I'm very glad that Kristen has you as a friend and I hope we will be seeing more of you in the future."

Kristen and Christopher both stared at their father in surprise and he felt Sharron tighten her arm around his shoulder.

Jonathan tightened his arm around Kristen as he responded. "I think meeting your daughter is the best thing that ever happened to me and I also hope to see more of all of you." He turned his smile on Kristen and her face seemed to light up.

Paul nodded and took a deep breath. "Well it's been an eventful afternoon and we're all soaked. I suppose we should all be getting home so we can clean up and change into dry clothes. Jonathan, if you'd like we can drop you off at your place." He noticed the slightly crestfallen look on his daughter's face. "Kristen has to work this evening but the day is still young and after you get changed you're welcome to come back over. I'm sure we can find something to do -- " He grinned at the hopeful look in Kristen's eyes. " -- this time without any airplanes falling out of the sky."

Jonathan smiled back. "That sounds great to me." He turned his attention to Kristen. "How about it? Think you can put up with me for a while longer?"

Kristen giggled then shrugged. "I think I can manage."

Jonathan cocked his head, looking back at Paul. "Looks like it's a deal."

Paul stood up. "Then we'd better get going."

The rest of them stood up and collected their things, then headed over to the area where they would be most likely to find a taxi. When they reached the road Jonathan saw a familiar minivan waiting for them. Lois Lane-Kent stuck her head out the open window. "You folks need a ride?"

After a moment's reluctance over their wet condition, followed by assurances from Lois that it didn't matter, they all piled into the minivan. Lois dropped Paul and his family off at their place. Jonathan walked Kristen up to the front door. Paul noticed that Jonathan had placed the blanket they had shared over Kristen's shoulders. Though Jonathan was just as soaked as the rest he didn't seem to be either cold or tired. Paul found himself thinking nostalgically of the resilience of youth.

Jonathan reassured Kristen that he would be back in about an hour or less then strode back out to the minivan.

***

The doorbell rang and Kristen raced down the stairs, to the shouted admonition to slow down from her father. She yanked open the door and pulled a bemused Jonathan into the house. "Jonathan's here." She called out unnecessarily.

As they joined the others in the family room Paul inquired, "Do you have any plans for the rest of the afternoon?"

Jonathan shook his head. "No, not really." He glanced at Kristen. "Other than spending as much of it as I can with Kristen."

"There is that new movie that came out Friday." Paul continued. "Maybe we can all go to see the matinee show."

Jonathan knew the movie in question was a romantic comedy and a good date movie. He again glanced at Kristen. "It sounds like a good idea to me."

Paul scanned his smartphone for a couple of minutes. "We have to leave soon if we want to make the matinee showing." He frowned. "It may take too long to get a cab."

Jonathan shrugged. "That's no problem. Mom prefers driving that silver Jeep of hers so she let me borrow the family minivan." He smiled thinking about his mother and her precious silver Jeep.

As they headed out the door Christopher was on his cell phone with someone named Anna. They all piled into the minivan and headed for the mall where Kristen worked. While standing in line at the theater for their tickets they were met by Christopher's current romantic interest, a dark haired pretty girl named Anna. They had arrived with plenty of time to spare and were able to get good seats together despite it being only the second day since the movie had come out.

***

The movie did not disappoint. It delivered humor and a strong romantic mood. By the time it was over it felt more like a triple date rather than a family outing. After the movie the three couples headed over to the food court for a quick dinner before Kristen had to go to work.

Once they had finished eating they all walked Kristen over to the music store where they took their leave. Christopher split off from the group with Anna. She said that she could give him a ride home. That left just Paul and Sharron with Jonathan. The three of them took their time heading back to the minivan, glancing into some of the stores along the way and talking.

They stopped in at an electronics store where Jonathan and Paul found themselves bonding over high end video displays. Sharron found the whole thing amusing. At one point while they were discussing the relative merits of various types of displays Sharron snickered, shaking her head. "Boys and their toys." She commented quietly to herself. She was surprised when Jonathan glanced her way and grinned as though in response to her comment that he could not possibly have heard.

***

About two hours after they had dropped Kristen off at her job, Jonathan dropped Paul and Sharron off at their home. Christopher was not home yet and wasn't really expected to be back any time soon. Paul and Sharron ended up indulging in the romantic mood that still remained from the movie that they had seen earlier.

Kristen arrived home from work at around ten to find her parents cuddled up on the family room sofa. Fifteen minutes later Christopher arrived home. The family sat together in the family room and talked for a while, clearing the air of the last of the fallout from that morning. By the time they all retired things were back to normal and Paul felt that all was right with the world again.

As he lay in bed Paul thought about everything that had happened that day. Something seemed to keep nagging at the back of Paul's mind about Superboy and the events at the park, but he just couldn't put his finger on it. As he went back over everything that had happened in the park it finally hit him. It had seemed to Paul that Superman had appeared to know his children though he couldn't figure out how. Then he remembered something else that had struck him. After Superboy had retrieved a very tired Kristen from the water, Paul was sure that he had seen a special look momentarily pass between Superboy and Kristen just before he had left. It had looked to him as though they knew each other and he was sure that he had seen a bit more than simple interest flicker in Superboy's eyes.

Was there something there? Should he encourage it? What about Jonathan and Kristen? He fell asleep with these thoughts circulating around in his head.

***

The next morning Paul checked the news reports of the airplane crash. According to the article in the 'Daily Planet', based on interviews with those that had been on board the plane, it looked like the cause of the crash was a large bird that had been sucked into the jet engine causing the engine to catch fire and explode. The article also stated that there had been less than a dozen injuries, only one was labeled as serious, and, miraculously, there had been no fatalities.

Paul's whole family had been mentioned in the article. Paul, Kristen and Christopher were praised for their selfless heroism in going into the water to rescue those that had been in danger of drowning and Sharron was cited for helping to tend to those that were pulled out of the water until emergency crews had arrived. The article concluded that it was thanks to their actions, along with the several others that, inspired by the actions of Paul's family, had dived in to help, that there had been no loss of life among those that had been out boating on the lake. The fact that the last three rows on the airplane had been empty had resulted in no loss of life there. The actions of both Superman and Superboy were also heavily reported in the same article.

Paul scanned everything about the crash but found no mention of Jonathan's part in the rescues. It seemed a bit odd but he figured that maybe Jonathan or his parents had wanted to keep his name out of the paper.

For the next few weeks Paul's family had to endure the attention and congratulations from their relatives, friends, and peers. Jonathan came over several times to see Kristen and the connection between them was pretty obvious. Though Paul had kept his eyes open for any sign of it, there had been no indications that there was any kind of relationship between Kristen and Superboy. Paul soon began to doubt that he had seen what he thought he had seen that day at the park.

***

Early Saturday morning two weeks after the plane incident Paul was awakened by the sound of the rear door opening and closing. He glanced over at the alarm clock to see that it was five in the morning. He yawned and mumbled to himself. "Who in their right mind would be up at this time of the morning on a Saturday?" He was about to drag himself out of bed to see what was going on when he remembered that it was the first Saturday of the month. That must have been Christopher heading for that flea market that he always visited. Paul stretched and glanced at the bed next to him to see that Sharron was still asleep beside him. As he gazed lovingly down at her he thought that he would let her sleep herself out. Yesterday had been a bit stressful for her at her job -- it always was on the first Friday of the month. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Soon he was dozing off.

Paul was again awakened around eight o'clock by the sound of the back door slamming then the sound of someone running up the stairs. Paul got out of bed and put on a robe while glancing out of the bedroom door. He saw Christopher standing in his daughter's bedroom sounding very upset and scared as he was urging her to contact Superboy.

***

Christopher had originally considered going straight to the Kents' house but he wasn't sure where it was and he didn't think he had any time to waste trying to find it much less get them to listen to him. He decided that Kristen was his best chance to get to Jonathan quickly.

Kristen was sitting up in bed reading when she was disturbed by the precipitous entrance of her brother. She glanced up at Christopher, feeling a bit annoyed as he barged into her room. She did a double take as she noticed his distraught state then, frowning, gave her full attention to him. "Chris, what's wrong?"

Christopher glanced back out through her door and saw their father coming out of his bedroom door. He paused trying to decide how to say what he needed to say without giving away too much in front of their father. He shook his head then spoke urgently to Kristen. "Look, I believe that you know how to contact Superboy." Christopher again glanced at their father, who was now standing in Kristen's doorway, then continued. "I'm sorry for blurting that out and I wouldn't have said anything if this wasn't an emergency. You have to tell Superboy that I need to talk to him or Superman immediately. They're both in great danger and it involves kryptonite."

Paul blinked twice in confusion then gasped as the meaning of his son's words sank in.

***

Chapter 14

Kristen's eyes initially got wide with surprise and fear as she let the book drop to her lap then glanced back and forth between her brother and her father. Christopher knew she could contact Superboy!? But as her brother continued speaking, Kristen's expression became grimly determined. "OK, Chris, but neither of you can ever say anything to anyone about this." After another quick glance at her father and her brother she reached over and picked up her phone from the nightstand. Kristen was about to select Jonathan's entry in her phone when she paused a moment thinking very hard. Maybe she shouldn't let them know that Superboy's phone number was already programmed into her directory. Instead of just selecting it she quickly punched in Jonathan's number directly then paused a few of seconds while it rang at the other end.

As soon as Jonathan answered she launched into her explanation. "This is Kristen, I need to see you or Superman right away. My brother and father are right here and I know that I shouldn't call you like this but my brother says that it is an emergency." She repeated everything that her brother had just said to her then paused to listen. "OK, I'll meet you at the back door." She terminated the call then quickly cleared her phone's call history. She looked up at Christopher and Paul. "Superboy said that he would be here in a couple of minutes."

Paul felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under him. Christopher really expected Kristen to have access to Superboy and she had just called him on her phone!? Kristen knew Superboy's phone number?!?

Paul felt a hand on his shoulder and nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned to see Sharron standing behind him looking just as shocked as he felt. Their eyes met then she spoke in an awed whisper. "Did Kristen just -- ?"

Paul nodded. "So it seems. I guess we had better get dressed quickly cause I think we're about to have company."

Paul herded Sharron back to their room while Kristen herded Christopher out of her room then closed the door.

For the next couple of minutes Paul and Sharron quickly got dressed in total stunned silence. They emerged from their room at the same time Kristen emerged from her room and the three of them headed down the stairs. Just as they reached the bottom they heard a knock at the back door. By the time they reached the breakfast nook in the back of the house Christopher was holding the back door open and Superman was stepping into their house followed by Superboy. Despite their suddenly unsteady legs Paul and Sharron managed to make it to the table and sit down. Christopher urged Superman and Superboy to also take a seat.

Superman accepted one of the two remaining seats. Superboy insisted that Kristen take the last remaining seat then took a cross legged sitting position, floating in midair at the table beside Kristen. Paul and Sharron both looked at him in surprise as Kristen giggled. The action had the effect of both proving that he was the real thing to the parents and breaking the tension. Then everyone focused their attention expectantly on Christopher as he started to pace nervously.

After a few seconds Christopher started to speak. "I went to the 'First Saturday' flea market this morning like usual. While I was there I spotted a man examining two glowing green crystals at a rock seller's booth. As you know I have already encountered Kryptonite once before, when I made Kristen's birthday present. By the way, this was not the same guy as the one that sold me that other piece of Kryptonite."

Paul and Sharron glanced at the bracelet on Kristen's wrist. They both now realized that it didn't have the self-illuminated sheen that it had when Christopher had first given it to her. Kristen was looking back at them with a hint of resignation in her eyes. She knew that eventually explanations would be required.

Their attention was drawn back to Christopher as he continued talking. "I could see right away that those two crystals had to be kryptonite. The buyer was waving some type of electronic device with a flashing green light next to the crystals. Then he put the device in a brief case that he set on the ground by his feet. I walked up to the booth and tried to get into a conversation with them. I expressed an interest in the crystals and tied to see if I could buy one from either one of them. The seller said that those two were all he had. The buyer was kinda surly and refused to sell either of the kryptonite crystals to me. I tried offering the buyer a good profit for them saying that my sister loved that shade of green and her birthday was coming up. That's when the buyer got very aggressive and told me, rather rudely, to buzz off."

Christopher paused and Superman spoke. "Do you have any idea who the buyer was or where he might have gone?

Christopher responded. "I don't know who he was but I know where he went." He paused again glancing at his father. "I let the man think that I had given up on the crystals and left. I doubled back and found a spot where I could see them without being seen then I watched. After a few minutes the buyer took the crystals then started walking around the flea market. All the while he was looked around as if to see if anyone was watching him." Christopher noticed the worried look on his parents' faces and rushed to reassure his parents. "I was very careful and I'm sure he didn't notice me." Christopher returned his attention to Superman. "About ten minutes later the buyer left the market and I followed him. He met another guy at a warehouse in Suicide Slum and gave him the larger of the two crystals. I recognized the guy the buyer gave it to. I had seen him on one of those "Most Wanted" shows for making bombs. I followed the buyer a few blocks further on where he went into a shabby looking gun shop and gave the other crystal to the guy behind the counter."

Christopher paused and now they could see a haunted look pass across his face as he continued. "It was about an hour later that I got back to the flea market and talked to the seller. He apparently bought the kryptonite from a roadside stand in Kansas. It sounded like the same place that the other kryptonite came from. I got about halfway back to my car when there was a loud explosion behind me. I rushed back and found a hole in the ground where the rock seller's booth used to be. I got out of there as fast as I could and came straight home."

Christopher leaned against the table looking wrung out then his head popped up. "Oh my God! The brief case! The buyer didn't have his brief case when he left the flea market. That must have been the bomb."

While Paul and Sharron stared at Christopher in shocked silence, Superman stood up and placed his hand on Christopher's shoulder. "That was a real close call. You showed both courage and intelligence and I want to thank you for what you've done for us." He paused to give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Also I'm glad that you're still alive." Superman began talking more or less to himself. "It looks like the buyer is having kryptonite bullets made as well as a kryptonite bomb. I think it's a good bet that he is planning to kill one or both of us." He looked up. "We're going to need some help on this."

Paul looked Superman in the eye. "I'll be happy to help in any way that I can."

"Thanks, Paul. The best help you could give us right now is to let us use your place to meet some others and plan our next move."

"You've got it." Paul declared.

Superman produced a cell phone and hit one button. After a few seconds he spoke into it. "Hello, Bill, something very serious has come up and I really need your help." -- He paused a moment listening then responded. "Great. Can you meet me at a friend's house." -- After a few more seconds he relayed Paul's address then paused again. "Thanks, Bill. We'll see you in a few." Superman hung up and put the cell phone away somewhere behind his back then he addressed Paul. "Bill is a very close friend. He should be here in about twenty minutes."

Sharron was finally getting over her shock at what was happening in her home and the hostess part of her brain took over. She popped up from her chair. "Can I offer you anything -- coffee -- some breakfast? -- "

Superman responded. "I don't want to put you out or anything."

"Oh it's nothing -- I was about to fix breakfast for my family and you are welcome to join us while you wait for your friend." Sharron insisted. There was the faintest nervous tremor in her voice.

"That would be very -- " Superman stopped speaking and stared off into the distance. Superboy also appeared to be staring at nothing as they both appeared to be listening to something that Paul and his family couldn't hear.

After a couple of seconds Superboy looked at Superman. "Dad, you go and I'll stay here to wait for Mister Henderson."

Superman nodded to Superboy then addressed Sharron. "I appreciate your offer but I'm afraid I will have to take a rain check on that breakfast." He quickly exited through the back door and a moment later the quiet was broken by a very distinctive sonic boom.

Superboy addressed Paul and his family. "There has been a gas explosion in an apartment building out near Hobbs Bay." He then smiled at Sharron. "I would love to join you for breakfast while we wait for Mister Henderson to arrive."

Sharron used the familiar activity of making breakfast to help her recover her equilibrium.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence Paul finally spoke. "Superboy, ah, how did you become involved with Kristen's bracelet and the kryptonite?"

Jonathan (as Superboy) thought for several seconds. He needed to be close enough to the truth to adequately explain what had happened without giving away too much detail. Finally he began spinning his tale. "A short while back Kristen and I happened to cross paths. I came within fifteen feet of where she was standing and started to feel weak, dizzy and achy. She saw my reaction and rushed over to try and help me. I was hit by terrible pain as she approached and passed out. She had no idea what was happening to me but she recognized who I was and took steps to protect me from discovery. She was able to find a way to contact my father to get help. When my father showed up he was also affected by the kryptonite and passed out. "

Superboy paused and Kristen spoke up. "I was never so scared in my life."

Superboy nodded to her then his eyes returned to Paul. "Once Kristen understood what was really happening she removed her jewelry and got it as far away from us as possible. Dad and I recovered fairly quickly once we were no longer being exposed to the Kryptonite. Dad and Kristen made arrangements to get her jewelry to someone that could safely remove and dispose of the Kryptonite crystals. He replaced them with stones that looked just like the original." Superboy shrugged. "And that is how we met."

There was dead silence as Kristen's family digested what they had just been told. Jonathan thought he had done a good job answering their curiosity without giving anything more away.

Sharron had accepted the story completely and was feeling very proud of her daughter. She realized that Superboy had not said where specifically this encounter had taken place but she figured that it was not really important. One thing that she did realize that pleased her was that Kristen had become good friends with Superboy and Superman. You couldn't find very many friends better than that.

Christopher was smiling knowingly to himself. He was pretty sure that he could fill in the parts that Jonathan had left out. The encounter must have happened in the music store and Jonathan had entered as himself. That was how Kristen had learned his identity and how she knew how to contact his father. It all made perfect sense. 'Way to go, Sis.' He thought to himself.

Paul was very impressed by how well his daughter had apparently handled herself in a serious situation and now she was on friendly terms with Superboy and Superman. Then it hit him. He and Sharron had both made jokes about Kristen going out with Superboy and now it turned out that they already were somewhat close. She knew his phone number and it was obvious that Superboy thought very highly of her. Could a more serious relationship be a real possibility? He glanced at his daughter in amazement. Somehow she had managed to become close to three exceptional people that he admired, Superman, Superboy and Jonathan Kent.

The silence was broken by an exclamation from Sharron as her attention returned to the breakfast she had cooking. A few minutes later she was serving breakfast. She found herself feeling just a bit in awe of the fact that she was serving breakfast to Superboy. She was also trying to deal with the fact that Superboy was still sitting in midair at her breakfast table.

Halfway through their breakfast they were interrupted by the front doorbell. Paul announced that he would get it and strode to the front door. He opened the door and was very surprised to be confronted by, the mayor of Metropolis, William Henderson. After a stunned moment the pieces fell into place. Superman had said 'Bill' and Superboy had said Mister Henderson. Paul shook off his momentarily stunned state and invited the Mayor into his home.

***

Chapter 15

Still trying to come to terms with the fact that Mayor William Henderson was in his house, Paul escorted him back to the breakfast nook. Sharron looked up as they walked in and, recognizing Bill, dropped her spatula. After a stunned moment she retrieved the spatula and dropped it into the sink, then got another one from one of the kitchen drawers. Henderson introduced himself, then Paul introduced his family.

Bill glanced over at Superboy, still floating in a cross-legged sitting position at the table, and couldn't help the amused snort that escaped him spoiling his characteristic dour expression, at the unusual sight. Then he got serious as his attention centered on Superboy. "OK now, what is this all about?"

Superboy responded. "This is Christopher's discovery -- I think he should explain it."

Sharron had begun setting out the food on the table. She seemed a bit uncertain as she took in the important people that were currently occupying her breakfast nook. "Um, ah, Mister Mayor, would you like to have some breakfast while we talk?" She blushed a bit.

Bill glanced around at the faces of the family then smiled at Sharron. He hadn't had breakfast yet and the food smelled very good right now. He also knew that these people were a bit nervous in his presence and sitting at the breakfast table with them would put them more at ease. "Yes, thank you. I would like some breakfast. And, please, call me Bill." He took one of the two empty seats and Paul took the other one. As Sharron continued serving the food he turned his attention on Christopher. "Now, young man, what is this all about?"

As Christopher spun out his tale about what had happened Bill began to frown as the seriousness of the situation became clear to him. He also glanced occasionally at the others, gauging their reactions and coming to some surprising conclusions. This family knew a lot more about Superman and Superboy than most people did and there was definitely something going on between Superboy and the daughter, Kristen. He would bet a year's salary that Kristen knew that Superboy was really Jonathan Kent and he suspected that Christopher might also know. He wasn't so sure how much the parents knew. It was obvious, however, that they all knew the truth about Kryptonite.

After Christopher finished telling about the mornings events Bill Henderson thought for several seconds then started talking. "So what we have is kryptonite in the hands of two very unsavory characters and we have a very limited window in which to act before it is turned into even deadlier weapons to be used against you and your father."

Superboy nodded. "And Dad and I can't really do anything because we can't get near the stuff."

Bill turned to Christopher. "I know a friendly judge that I can trust that will be able to supply us with warrants. But I will need a carefully worded deposition from you about what you saw. There should be no mention of kryptonite. Instead describe it as glowing radioactive crystals. That way we can get fast action and keep the concept of Kryptonite out of the picture." He took a note pad from his pocket. "If you will write down those addresses I get started on those warrants while you get some paper and write down and sign your statement."

Christopher wrote down the address for the warehouse and the gun shop then handed it to Bill. Sharron left the room saying that she would get Christopher some paper to write on. Bill studied the addresses a moment then was on his phone.

"Hello, Judge Sanders, Bill Henderson here. Sorry to disturb you but I need really a big favor." --

"I need two search warrants." He repeated the two addresses.

"The objects of the search are illegal radioactive material." --

"The material in question appears to be a glowing green crystal." --

"That's right they are suspected of receiving dangerous radioactive material and one of the recipients is believed to be wanted for making bombs used in terrorist type attacks." --

"Yes I have a witness." --

"I will have an officer stop by in about an hour with the witness's statement to pick up the warrants." --

"OK, and thanks." He clicked off then dialed another number.

"Hello, Greg, Bill Henderson. I have a critical situation here. I need you to assemble your SWAT team." --

"Once your team is assembled I need you to come by my current location to pick-up a witness statement then go to Judge Sanders' office to pick up two search warrants." --

"It's about nine thirty now. They need to be ready to move by noon." --

"No, I can't be directly involved in this. I'll explain when you get here." He repeated Paul's address.

"Thanks Greg. See you when you get here." --

Bill put away his cell phone. "Chief Hughes should be here in a bit." Bill took a bite of the breakfast in front of him, then he turned his attention to Sharron. "This is very good, Mrs. Mathers."

Superboy chimed in. "I second that. This is very good."

Sharron blushed as she smiled back at both of them. "Thank-you." She turned her attention to Bill. She had noticed that despite his well-known deadpan cynical disposition, Bill Henderson was actually a very pleasant person. "Um, if I'm supposed to call you Bill then you should call me Sharron." She blushed again at her own words. She was still trying to adjust to the number of very important people that were passing through her home. Now they were expecting the Chief of Police.

Bill turned his attention to Christopher who was intently writing away. "How is it coming there, Christopher?"

Christopher glanced up from his writing. "I'm about halfway through, Sir."

Bill nodded. "Good, but there's no need to rush. Take your time and make sure that you've got your facts correct."

A short while later Superman returned. He was invited to partake in breakfast and accepted. Two minutes after that Police Chief Greg Hughes arrived. After introductions were exchanged Bill Henderson immediately got down to business.

Henderson handed Greg the statement. "Greg, this is Christopher's official statement on what happened early this morning. You're to take it straight to Judge Sanders and she will sign the warrants as soon as she gets this. I can't stress to you how important this is."

Greg nodded as he read through the statement. The further he read the wider his eyes got. Finally Greg looked up at Bill, his face registering a combination of surprise, and grim fear. "Is this really Joey Carson?"

Bill's expression was now just as grim. "Christopher identified him from that 'America's Most Wanted' segment. He said that he got a good look at him."

"My God, Bill. Radioactive material in the hands of 'The Bombmaster' -- That's the stuff of every cop's worst nightmare."

Bill shook his head. "It's worse than you know and I can't explain to you why but it is imperative that the green crystals are recovered as soon as possible and immediately turned over to STAR Labs." Greg stared at Bill a moment, his brows furrowed in uncertainty, then he glanced over at Superman and Superboy. His expression turned to one of shock as he looked back at Bill. He opened his mouth but Bill cut him off before he could say anything. "Don't ask and don't discuss this with anyone else. Just make sure that that stuff makes it to STAR Labs."

Greg nodded to Bill. "I'll get it taken care of." Greg nodded to the rest of them and Paul escorted him out.

When Paul returned to the room Bill exhaled a huge sigh. "Now all we can do is wait and hope." He noticed the look on Superman's face and became worried. "Superman, you can't be involved in this."

Superman looked back stubbornly determined. "I can't just stand by and let them risk their lives for me. I have to help."

"How? You can't get anywhere near that stuff." Bill Retorted.

"I can at least fly high cover for them. Warn them of any traps or other dangers." Superman responded.

"That could cause other problems. If you are present everyone will wonder why you are staying in the background rather than taking direct action."

Superman paused to think a moment. "You saw the look on Greg's face when he glanced at me just before he left. He has already figured out that Kryptonite is involved." He replied. "I will stay out of sight and only communicate with Greg on my cell. Regardless, I have to be there to help any way I can."

Bill sighed again. "I suppose there's no way that I can talk you out of this."

Superman shook his head. "Nope, not a chance. Chief Hughes should arrive at Judge Sanders' in about fifteen minutes. I will meet him there and work out the details." He then looked over at Sharron and smiled. "In the meantime I want to enjoy this marvelous breakfast that you have prepared.

***

After he had finished breakfast Superman left the Mathers family's home to a final admonition from Bill Henderson to watch himself and stay well away from any place where the kryptonite might be. Once everyone had their fill of breakfast they all moved to the family room to await news of the raids about to happen.

A few minutes later a cell phone rang. Everyone glanced around curiously looking for the source then Superboy pulled out a cell phone from somewhere behind his back and answered it.

"Hello?" -- He glanced at the others who were looking back curiously at him. "I'm at Kristen's place." -- Again he glanced around. "Two pieces of Kryptonite have been located in the hands of some bad guys." -- "Dad went to meet with some policemen that are going to raid those two places." -- Superboy's frown deepened as he listened for a long time. He closed his eyes and nodded his head very slightly. Finally he sighed and responded. "I won't. I promised Dad that I would stay here until he returns." -- His frown deepened even more. "Mom, that might not be such a good idea." He listened a few moments then shook his head and sighed again. "But Dad won't be able to do much to protect you this time." -- Another sigh. "I know Mom, just, please, be careful." He closed his phone with another sigh.

Superboy/Jonathan looked up, his face creased in a worried frown.

Kristen reached out and took Superboy/Jonathan's hand. "Are you OK?"

Superboy/Jonathan responded. "Just worried about my mother."

Kristen dropped Jonathan's hand self-consciously. She needed to be more careful. She knew how worried Jonathan must be about both his parents and she wanted to put her arms around him to comfort him but she wasn't supposed to know Superboy that well. She knew that she mustn't do anything that might give Jonathan's secret away. Keeping Jonathan's secret was proving to be much more difficult than she had expected, especially under these close and very stressful conditions. Kristen looked around at the various expressions on the faces of the other's in the room. It was bad enough that they all now knew about Kryptonite, and now she was worried that her actions may have just given too much away.

Paul had been quietly observing everything that was going on. The first thing that struck him was the close physical proximity between Kristen and Superboy. The second thing that struck him was that there seemed to be much more going on between them than he had first thought (The look on her face when she had touched Superboy's hand in sympathy had been very instructive). The third thing was his realization that, based on the phone conversation, Superboy's mother was apparently a normal person (something he had not previously considered).

Sharron had noticed indications of a definite connection between Kristen and Superboy (especially when she had touched his hand). Though they were trying not to show it she was certain that they were more than just acquaintances. She began to wonder just how close they really were and where Kristen's relationship with Jonathan fit in all this.

Henderson watched the interaction between Jonathan and Kristen. He had been in on the Kent family secret for several years now and he had heard about the bomb incident at the high school. He suspected that Kristen also knew the secret and by the looks on her parent's faces he suspected that they didn't know. The older brother however was a bit of a puzzle.

***

Chapter 16

Superman glided silently just inside the low lying cloud layer directly above a non-descript warehouse. He could see only blurry images through the roof of the building. He had to assume that there was a small amount of lead in the paint that had once been used to paint the interior. However he was able to see well enough and was able to give Chief Greg Hughes a fairly accurate description of the layout. He spoke into his cell phone.

"There is a wall that separates the front two-thirds of the warehouse, which is full of boxes and crates, from the back. There appears to be a large concealed sliding door in the center of that wall. The area beyond is divided up into a crude living area and work area. There are two doors in the back of the building. One opens to the space between this warehouse and the one next to it. The other opens into the alley behind it. It looks like there are alarms and explosive charges on all three of the front loading-dock doors and on the two regular doors on the side and in the back. There are extra thick walls to isolate the booby-trapped back doors from the interior living space."

Clark paused as he concentrated his attention on the workroom area, trying to get a better view, then continued. "There are several cabinets with explosives and bomb making equipment." He tried to get a better look at the cabinets before continuing. "There also appear to be booby traps rigged on the explosive cabinets. I suspect that opening a cabinet incorrectly sets off the explosives stored inside them. In the center of the room there is a large work bench and it looks like he is already constructing two unusual looking bombs. There are four armed men inside the occupied part of the building and one armed guard in the front warehouse section." Clark paused in his narration as he tried to get a closer look at something that didn't look quite right before he continued. It was so difficult to get any kind of clear view through the old leaded paint.

***

The Mathers family and their guests had moved into the family room to be more comfortable while they awaited word on the raids on the two locations where the kryptonite had been delivered. Sharron had supplied tea, soda, coffee and snacks for everyone and told them to help themselves to whatever they wished. Jonathan was very nervous and his tight control over his Superboy persona was beginning to slip. He was acutely aware that both of his parents were walking straight into danger and both of them were vulnerable. He seemed to be barely even aware of his surroundings as his mind kept skimming over all the things that could possibly go wrong.

Kristen was sitting on the sofa next to him and her hand slipped into his both seeking and giving comfort without her even being aware of the action. Jonathan became aware of her actions and he looked over into her sympathetic eyes. For just that moment, all of both of their emotions became plainly visible on their faces.

Christopher had noticed what was happening and was worried. He had already concluded that Mayor William Henderson was in on the secret. But if Jonathan and Kristen didn't get their emotions under better control, they were going to give themselves away. He glanced over at his parents and saw that they were both watching Kristen and Superboy. It was already too late.

Ever since they had moved into the family room Paul had been noticing Superboy's attitude. He could see the young man's tight control sipping under the strain of worry for his parents. From the short phone conversation he had overheard he knew that Superman had a wife that was probably a normal human and his mind had been considering all the ramifications since then. He saw Kristen's hand steal into Superboy's hand and the look of deep worry on the young man's face visibly eased. Superboy glanced over at Kristen then looked down in an emotionally open and surprisingly familiar gesture. At that instant enlightenment hit Paul like a bolt of lightning as two faces melded into one in his mind's eye. Superboy is Jonathan Kent! He stared at the young man's face and could now clearly see the resemblance once he looked for it. Then he was startled by the sound of shattering glass.

***

Clark peered through the obscuring lead-painted roof trying to get a better look at something that didn't look quite right about the floor under the workbench. Finally he continued his description. "It's hard to tell for sure but there may be a trap door in the floor under the workbench. Let me see if I can get a better look." Clark shifted his position to try to get a better angle. After shifting position several times Clark finally reported. "I just can't get a good look at it but I'm fairly sure that there is some type of trap door under the workbench. There is so much lead paint on the subflooring that I can't see what is below the warehouse. There are two utility tunnels, a storm drain and a sewer passing under the building but I have no way of telling which one the trap door might connect to."

The man working on the two bombs reached over and opened what looked vaguely like a cigar box made of lead and Clark saw the beautifully deadly green glow that sent a shiver through him. Clark could feel an unpleasant prickle throughout his body even though he knew that he was too far away for the kryptonite to have any effect on him. The man at the work bench picked up a large spoon and started scooping the glowing green powder into six smaller containers. Clark felt cold shivers go through him at the thought of what a bomb laced with that powdered kryptonite would do.

Clark reported what he was seeing to Greg, referring to the kryptonite as the K-material. His attention was distracted when he detected a familiar heartbeat and looked over to see Lois approaching the police command outpost.

***

Sharron was watching her daughter and Superboy over the top of the glass of iced tea that she was sipping. Kristen and Superboy seemed to be sitting on the sofa much closer together than necessary. In fact she thought that Kristen was getting much too close to the young superhero. The emotionally charged tension of the situation was causing both young people to let their guard down and they were neither of them thinking straight. Such a relationship could never work out. And what about that other boy, Jonathan? She wondered if maybe she should somehow separate the two of them but she was reluctant to interfere with the obvious comfort that the young worried superhero was deriving from Kristen's presence. Then she saw her daughter's hand slip into Superboy's hand and his unconcealed reaction to it. Sharron caught her breath at the raw emotion both teenagers were unconsciously showing. Then Superboy ran his free hand through his hair in an unconscious nervous gesture and again glanced over at Kristen, a half smile of gratitude began easing across his face. Sharron gasped and the glass of tea she had been holding slipped from her suddenly nerveless hand.

Everyone jumped when the glass hit the floor and shattered. They stared at Sharron seeing surprise and dawning comprehension in her expression. For two endless seconds Sharron sat there with her hand to her mouth and her face frozen in a shocked wide eyed look as several thoughts passed through her mind while she stared back at Jonathan. 'Superboy can't take Kristen away from Jonathan because Superboy is Jonathan! Kristen is already going out with Superboy! Superboy's parents are Clark Kent and Lois Lane! Lois Lane has been married to Superman for nineteen years! Kristen is going out with Superboy! My daughter is dating Superboy!'

***

Just moments before the teams started to move into the building Clark disabled several of the critical alarms and booby traps on the outer doors by cutting the wires with needle-thin beams of heat vision and in the process melting pinpoint holes in the building's roof. Just as Superman finished cutting the last wire Joey Carson looked up from his work and glanced around, sniffing the air. The next second Joey shoved the workbench and it swiveled out of the way and grabbed up the lead box of powdered kryptonite just as the SWAT team smashed through the doors into the Bombmaster's lair. Joey tried to escape through the exposed trap door but when he opened it he found himself faced with more officers down below waiting for him. He slammed the trapdoor shut and shoved home the locking bolt.

Clark continued to watch the operation from his hidden vantage point just within the low cloud layer as the SWAT team moved in on the Bombmaster's hidden lair. He released the breath he had been holding when Lois chose to stay back at the SWAT command truck rather than trying to follow the teams into the warehouse.

The SWAT teams poured onto the hidden lair and Joey reached for a remote detonation switch that sat within easy reach on the workbench. To his great surprise nothing happened. Superman had already disabled all of traps around the entrances. In a matter of minutes the SWAT teams had completely subdued the Bombmaster and the five henchmen that were in there with him.

As Joey and his five henchmen were handcuffed and being led out of the building, Greg recovered the kryptonite powder and returned it all to the lead box. He grabbed the still hot soldering iron sitting on the work bench and sealed the lead box shut. He then personally took the box out of the building and locked it into the SWAT Mobile Command Post van. He glanced back at the warehouse and commented under his breath. "That went a lot smoother than I expected -- Thank God."

Only Lois was close enough to hear him and sighed with relief. That was one less danger to her family..

Greg glanced over at Lois and let out a deep sigh. He was a little surprised that she had managed to stay out of harm's way. "One down -- one to go." He commented to himself then he looked around at his men and called out. "OK gentlemen, we still have one more raid to execute. Let the bomb squad deal with the explosives and the cabinets. The rest of you mount up and head out."

***

Christopher was the first in the now dead silent family room to recover. He had seen the look on his father's face as Paul had figured it all out and had missed his mother's initial reaction until her glass hit the floor. His mouth quirked into a slightly sardonic grin as he spoke. "Mom you are going to have to learn to control your reactions much better than that now that you're in on the big secret."

Everyone's attention shifted to Christopher. Kristen finally spoke. "How -- When -- "

Christopher shrugged. "I figured it out the night of the Senior Prom. It was a lot of little things but mostly it was something about the way both Jonathan and Superboy seemed to react to you."

After working his mouth soundlessly for a couple of seconds, Paul finally managed to get out a few words. "You're Jonathan -- Jonathan Kent?" Everything that had happened since that first day that Kristen told him that Jonathan was taking her to the prom circulated through his mind.

Sharron was still staring in stunned silence as Kristen pressed close against Jonathan's side and he placed his arm around her shoulders. Kristen half mumbled. "I'm sorry Jonathan, I guess I blew it."

Then Jonathan blushed with a little half grin as he responded. "I think we both gave ourselves away. I guess my secret is out." He paused then nodded. "Yes, I'm Jonathan."

Mayor Henderson jumped in at this point. "I hope you all know that you cannot tell anyone what you just learned today. If this secret got out it could destroy Jonathan's family and cause Superman all kinds of trouble. It could also put your own family in danger."

As the members of the Mathers family recovered their equilibrium after the shock of discovering Superboy's true identity they each promised that they would keep the secret to themselves. Then Paul and Sharron were lost in thought as they quietly sat there contemplating the various ramifications of what they had just learned. Christopher and Kristen watched their parent's faces as the various thoughts and ideas flitted through their minds. From the look of surprise mixed with chagrin that appeared on Paul's face, Christopher assumed that he was thinking about the events of Prom night and the morning after.

Then the questions came and the next several minutes were spent talking about this new development and what effect it had on the relationship between Kristen, Jonathan and their families. The discussion was cut short when Jonathan's cell phone rang. It was Clark, informing them that the first raid went off without a hitch and that Lois had, surprisingly, stayed out of the line of fire until the whole thing was over. Clark broke contact and Jonathan relayed the information.

Since the secret was now out Jonathan stood and executed the spin-change maneuver that his father had taught him, much to the amazement of everyone there except Henderson. He had seen it before. Kristen was delighted and amazed by it. Superboy was gone and Jonathan now stood in his place.

***

A half hour later Superman was hovering over the gunsmith's shop. In the back the man was dropping nine millimeter slugs into a small pot filled with a green glowing liquid. The slugs dropped into the heated pot quickly melted. On the bench beside the hot pot sat a nine millimeter bullet mold, a bullet press, a container of gunpowder and two dozen nine-millimeter shell casings. There was no one else in the little gun shop. Clark reported his observations to Greg.

Two plain clothes detectives dressed rather sloppily entered the shop posing as less than stellar citizens looking to buy handguns. They arrested the owner without incident while he was in the front public part of the store.

Greg found and unplugged the melting pot containing the liquid kryptonite. Greg and Lois ended up having to stand guard over the pot for several hours while its contents cooled and solidified. Once it had solidified, they took the still too hot to touch pot out to the SWAT van and, a short time later, all the recovered kryptonite was delivered to STAR Labs for analysis.

After reporting on the successful completion of both raids Greg returned to headquarters. Lois and Clark ended up back over at the Mather's where they were both surprised to see Jonathan in his street clothes. That was when Lois learned that the whole family had figured out the secret. They all sat together in the family room talking late into the evening while Lois typed up a front page story about the raid on the old warehouse and the capture of the 'Bombmaster'.

***

*EPILOGUE*

It was the first Christmas since Kristen and Jonathan had met and their relationship was even stronger than ever. Kristen and her family had been invited over for Christmas dinner at the Kent home and had come bearing gifts that were placed under the Kent's Christmas tree to be opened after dinner. There were also some gifts already under the tree for Kristen's family.

Christmas dinner, cooked by Clark, was, as always, a major success.

After dinner they all gathered in the Kent family room with a cheery fire in the fireplace and Christmas music playing on the stereo while they opened the gifts that the two families had given to each other.

One very large heavy box was labeled for Clark, Jonathan and the kids. Jonathan was delegated to open it and inside they found several yards of Superman blue fabric and behind that was bright red fabric. The blue fabric felt and stretched like spandex but it felt a bit heavier and it had a very unusual, almost metallic, sheen to it. The red fabric felt just like the non-stretch material that Clark's capes were made of. Clark and Jonathan both looked curiously at Paul as Jonathan remarked. "This is very nice looking fabric. Thank-you."

Paul looked back at them with a sparkle in his eye and a knowing grin on his face. "It may not look it but that is a very special fabric." He paused and took a sip from his wine glass then sat there staring at the glass dragging the silence out to the breaking point.

Finally Paul chuckled at the anxious looks on all of the Kent family faces. "I never told you but I work for a major defense contractor. We specialize in high tech materials created for the military. My company has developed a method for producing fabric made from carbon filament reinforced Kevlar thread. The carbon fiber and cotton thread is coated with Kevlar and Teflon then woven into a fabric and made into lightweight vests and coats that are tough enough to stop most small arms fire. The fabric is also nearly fire and chemical proof as well. By coiling the cotton and carbon fibers the finished fabric has the same stretchability as spandex."

He now had the full attention of his audience. "I was able to have a special run made one weekend last month." He grinned. "During the process where the carbon-cotton fiber is impregnated with dye, I substituted a heavily leaded superman blue dye. The Kevlar and Teflon coating finished it off rather nicely. The unique sheen of the material is due to the lead and Kevlar content of the thread. That special stretchable thread was woven into the two hundred feet of blue spandex like material you have there. The fibers in the red material are not coiled so it doesn't stretch like the blue material does. That makes it perfect for capes. The carbon fibers and Kevlar coating makes that material extremely tough and hard to damage. The Teflon coating makes that fabric extremely stain and dirt resistant. The Teflon coating also locks in the leaded dye. After the fabric was finished I took it over to STAR Labs to have it tested. That blue fabric blocks nearly eighty-five percent of kryptonite radiation. When combined with a layer of the red material it blocks out nearly ninety-nine percent of kryptonite radiation." Paul pointed to the box that still contained the red fabric. "With the special diamond bladed electric cutter you'll find in the bottom of that package, both fabrics can be easily cut. The fabric can be sewn on any sewing machine just like any other ordinary fabric."

It was Christopher that summed it all up. "Wearing costumes made of that material would come very close to making kryptonite into little more than a minor annoyance to you. The only part of you that could still be affected would be your exposed head and hands. And that unusual sheen will make the costumes look even more unique than they already are."

Paul nodded then continued. "With enough advanced notice I can get a few hundred yards of that fabric in any color you want. Just in case any of your younger siblings decide to get into the family business. This first run however is a gift from my family to yours."

It was Lois that responded. "Thank you, Paul. This gift means more to all of us than you could ever know. It means one less thing that I have to worry about when Jonathan and Clark have to go out on an emergency."

Clark raised his wine glass and added. "To close family, good friends and Christmas cheer."

***

About two-hundred miles south of Smallville, Superman and Superboy swooped into the raging chemical inferno. There were about a hundred workers still alive but trapped in three currently fire-free pockets within the building, completely surrounded by fire. It had already become obvious by the presence of several very dangerous chemicals that there were several illegal things going on in certain areas of the huge plant. Clark tucked that information away in his eidetic memory for further investigation later. Because of the chemicals involved the fire was too big and too hot to be easily put out, even by Superman's super breath. They had decided to get the people out first, and worry about the fire afterwards.

Each of them could carry two people at a time through the fire to safety. It turned out that the new capes were very effective in protecting their passengers from the extremely hot flames as they carried them through the fire to safety outside. There were forty-seven people in the largest pocket. It took twelve two-minute trips to get them all safely out.

The next pocket had thirty-six people trapped in it. That took an additional nine trips. This was the first time that Clark and Jonathan had worn the suits made from that special material that Paul had given them and the suits were holding up surprisingly well to the extreme heat and chemical conditions they were being exposed to.

The smallest pocket was located at the other end of the building and had nine people trapped in it. As Superman and Superboy arrived in that last small pocket they both were momentarily staggered by sharp pain in their head and hands. The rest of their bodies tingled like limbs that had fallen asleep. Kryptonite! Fortunately despite the pain in head and hands strength, speed and flight were not yet affected and, with the exception of head and hands, invulnerability was still intact. Heat vision, X-ray and super hearing were gone, though, and their heads were no longer invulnerable. The loss was a problem but they were able to work around them and within ten minutes the last nine people were rescued.

If it had not been for the kryptonite-proof qualities of these new suits Clark and Jonathan both might have died in that last pocket. Because of the effects of the short exposure their mouth and throats could not stand up to the pressure necessary to produce the super breath so Clark and Jonathan had to resort to airlifting large containers of flame retardant and dumping it on the fire to finally put it out.

Clark knew that this plant would be the subject of Lois and his next investigation but that was a subject for another day. Now it was time for father and son to return home. Clark had to fill Lois in on what had happened and write up the article for the Daily Planet. Jonathan had to get ready for his big date with Kristen. It was Jonathan's birthday and she had insisted on taking him out to celebrate.

THE END

The following story –

“Cold Feet”

by – RodStewFan

was Nominated in the:

Best Super Short Story

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Cold Feet

By RodStewFan <RodStewFan79@gmail.com>

Rated: PG13

Submitted July 2013

Summary: Lois gets cold feet the eve of her wedding and turns to her best friend.

***

Someone hammering on his door abruptly woke Clark. He didn't need much sleep, but he was a deep sleeper and didn't appreciate being pulled from his slumber. He threw back the blankets, put on his glasses, and got out of the bed, stumbling towards the door dressed only in a pair of navy cotton sleep shorts. Running a hand through his tousled hair, he nearly tripped up the steps to the door.

"All right!" he called, opening the door. "Lois?!" His eyebrows raised in surprise seeing her at his door. "What are you doing here?"

"Nice hair, cute shorts," she said, pushing past him. She wore navy sweatpants, a white vest, a grey sweat suit jacket with a hood, and white Nike sneakers.

"Well, I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting guests at..." He glanced at the clock in the kitchen. "...one in the morning."

"I'm supposed to get married tomorrow," she slurred.

"Are you drunk?" he asked.

"Lucy took me out. Didn't you hear me? I'm getting *married* tomorrow!"

"Yes I did. Why are you here again?"

"I'm getting married tomorrow. You're my best friend, and I don't want that to change. I'm freaking out. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing."

"Lois..." he began, but she cut him off. Thrusting her tongue into his mouth, Lois kissed him hard. "Mmm... wait, wait! What are we doing?" he asked, holding up his hands to stop her.

"Kissing." Her lips joined his again, and her tongue started to duel with his. Taking a breath, she murmured, "Make love to me."

"What?!" Clark looked like a fish out of water as his mouth opened and closed as he tried form the words. "What about...?" he asked once he found his voice.

"Don't talk, just do." She kissed him once more, smoothing her hands down his firm hard chest. "You know, I have had a lot of very heated dreams about this chest." She placed hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses on his bare chest. "Ever since you opened the door in just your towel back at that flea bag motel."

"Really?" Clark croaked.

"Yeah. I wanted to rip that towel from your waist to see what it was hiding," Lois confessed, kissing him again as she pushed him towards his bedroom. They fell onto his bed, a tangle of arms and legs. Straddling him, she shrugged out of her jacket and threw it behind her. It landed on the dresser. Then she toed her sneakers off.

Clark helped pull down her sweatpants, and they joined her jacket on the dresser. All she was wearing was white cotton panties and the vest. As she kissed his throat, he slipped his hands under her vest, pushing it up and cupping her breasts.

"Oh, Clark," she moaned, pressing into him as she arched backwards. "Your hands feel so good."

He pulled the vest over her head and discarded it with the rest of her clothes.

"Oh, Clark! That's it. Ah..." She moaned as Clark kissed her neck. "I want you so much," Lois said, her voice rough and quivering.

He rolled her on to her back. Hooking his fingers under the bands of their underwear, he removed both with one movement. Now naked, Clark slowed to kiss her neck.

"Clark, I want you."

"Are you sure?" he asked, gazing tenderly into her eyes.

"Yes! God, yes! I can't wait!" Kissing him. "Oh, Clark, please," she gasped, wishing he wouldn't stop.

"This feels so good," he murmured in agreement.

"Clark!" She wrapped her legs around his waist. "Oh, Clark!"

she called out.

"OH! Me, too. I... I... I LOVE YOU!" he yelled.

"I LOVE YOU, TOO!" she cried.

***

The next morning, Clark awoke to find Lois getting dressed. He sat up and looked at her with confusion.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Getting dressed."

"Why? It's only five thirty."

"Yeah, but I have a wedding to get to," she replied.

"So, you're going through with it?" he asked, hanging on her answer with baited breath.

"Yeah." She looked at him. "Last night was amazing." She kissed him, and then left.

Clark watched her shut his front door before falling back onto his pillows.

***

Later that day, Lois stood in front of a full-length mirror admiring herself in her wedding dress. Her head was filled with thoughts of Clark and last night. She started to wonder if she had made a mistake.

"Lois?" Lucy said, entering the room. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Lois replied, fighting back tears.

As Lois walked down the aisle towards her future husband, her head filled once more with visions of Clark. She stopped next to the tall dark figure and looked into the deep chocolate eyes of her best friend Clark Kent, realizing she was going to be happy with him for the rest of her life.

THE END

The following story –

“Cooking Class”

by – Female Hawk

was Nominated in the:

Best Medium Length Story,

Best First Kiss

and

Best Overall

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Cooking Class

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

Rated PG

Submitted September 2013

Summary: Lois has a hot date for Valentine's Day. Problem is, she promised him a home-cooked meal.

Thanks to Iolanthe for a great betaing job and also to GooBoo for being the GE.

***

Part 1

"What am I going to do?" Lois Lane wailed.

Lucy winced at the anguish smeared across her sister's expression, but squeezed all sympathy from her tone as she asked, "Why did you tell this guy you could cook?"

"He's French," Lois replied. "He's sophisticated. He has eaten in some of the best restaurants in Europe. He -"

"Doesn't that make lying to him about your prowess in the kitchen even more stupid?" Lucy said, trying not to think too much about how satisfying it felt to be the sister asking the difficult questions instead of the sister scrambling to defend spur-of-the-moment brain explosions.

"I ..." Lois's distress became a plea for understanding. "Claude is a really nice guy," she said. "He could be the *one*."

"The one?" Lucy gasped. "You really think you've finally found the *one*K?"

"Maybe," Lois said dreamily. "He's suave, he's fashionable, he's charming, he's melt-at-the-knees gorgeous, and his French accent makes my toes curl."

Lucy had met enough of Lois's 'the one' candidates to be sceptical. "How's he going to react when he discovers you lied to him?"

Her sister's alarm surfaced again. "That's why I called you and asked you to come over," Lois said. "Claude will be here tomorrow evening, expecting something exotic, and my cooking skills are limited to boiling pasta without it sticking together -- most of the time -- and heating up bought pasta sauce in the microwave."

"What do you want me to do?" Lucy asked plaintively.

"You're taking cooking classes twice a week," Lois said, grasping her sister's wrist. "I thought you could teach me."

"I have had *three* classes," Lucy protested. "I've made fruit salad, plain scones, and grilled tomato on toast."

"I can't feed Claude tomatoes on toast," Lois shrieked.

"They taste pretty good topped with basil and black pepper," Lucy said.

That comment earned her a dirty look. "We have twenty-four hours," Lois said. "It can't be that hard. If we stay up all night devouring recipe books, surely by tomorrow we will be able to cook *something* Claude will love.

"No," Lucy said firmly. "You're going to have to get take-out or -"

"Take-out," Lois groaned. She dropped onto her sofa and buried her face in her hands.

Lucy sat next to her. "Maybe Claude will be so captivated by you that he won't notice the food is take-out," she said.

"He's going to notice," Lois said in a voice of despair. "He's already told me how much he despises 'the undeveloped and insipid palate of the masses'.

"I can come and help you," Lucy offered. "There's an exorbitantly expensive Italian restaurant near where I work that has a take-out menu. I'll bring something from there; we'll dirty a few pans, scatter some vegetable scraps around the counter, and hide the containers in a dumpster two blocks away."

Lois dragged her hands down her face. "Italian?" she said.

"You don't want Italian?" Lucy guessed. "Because he's French?"

"No. No, Italian is perfect," Lois said.

"Why?" Lucy asked, unconvinced that anything about this situation was 'perfect'.

Lois gazed at her fidgeting fingers. "I told Claude I learned to cook from a sexy Italian chef," she admitted.

"Lois!"

"I thought I was covering my bases," Lois said. "I mean pasta *is* my best dish."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "You don't have a *best dish*," she said. "You can't cook!"

Lois groaned again. "What am I going to do, Lucy?"

"You have to look at all your options and decide which one is best," Lucy advised.

"What are my options again?"

For a Kerth-winning reporter, Lois could be exasperatingly dense at times. "You can call off your date with Claude, you can book a table at a restaurant and 'fess up about the Italian chef, you can get take-out and hope he's more interested in you than the food, or you can let me teach you how to make tomatoes on toast."

Lois screwed up her face. "I'm not calling off our date," she said. "That would send precisely the wrong message to Claude."

"Why did you suggest the home-cooked meal?"

"I didn't. Not really. Claude was telling me about all the glamorous restaurants he knows in Europe, and I told him about the Italian chef."

"And?" Lucy said blankly.

"And the next thing I knew, Claude was thanking me profusely and saying how eating in restaurants every night became tedious because American chefs are like sheep and never have an original idea."

Lucy shuffled a little closer to her sister. "Lois, are you sure this guy's worth all the stress? I mean, if you feel as if you have to lie to -"

"Of course, he's worth it," Lois snapped. "Claude is the most wonderful man I've ever met."

"Well, I guess you're going to have to choose between take-out and tomatoes," Lucy said.

Lois glanced into her kitchen as if in hope that a gourmet meal would materialise on the counter. "I suppose it's going to have to be take-out," she said grumpily. "I would die of shame if I gave tomatoes on toast to a man like Claude."

"Do you need my help?" Lucy asked. "I promise I'll sneak out before he arrives."

"You said you're free tomorrow night?"

"Yes. I can bring take-out from the Italian place. I can make the kitchen look 'cooked-in' while you get yourself all dolled up. I'll help you put the food in pots and pans on the stove, and I'll take all the containers with me when I go."

Lois put her hand on Lucy's arm. "Aw, Luce," she said. "You're the best."

Lucy stood from the sofa. "Just do me a favour and don't tell him you're a concert pianist in your spare time."

Giggling, Lois stood and hugged her sister. "Claude's due at seven-thirty," she said. "Can you be here by six-thirty? With something scrumptiously Italian that looks as if I cooked it from scratch?"

"Isn't six-thirty a bit early?"

"No. I want the food here. Otherwise, I'll stress."

"What if it gets cold?"

"Don't be silly, Lucy," Lois said. "It'll keep hot while it's in the pans on the stove."

"I don't think overcooking is good for some dishes," Lucy said doubtfully.

"We'll watch it carefully," Lois said. "What can possibly go wrong?"

Lucy choked down her extensive list of potential disasters. "I gotta go," she said. "See you tomorrow."

"Be here by six-thirty," Lois said as she opened the door of her apartment. "I'm going to need you."

***

"What's the time, Lucy?"

Lucy paused from her task of pouring the pesto sauce from the plastic container into the saucepan she had found at the back of one of Lois's cupboards. "It's ten past seven," she said.

"Eeek," Lois squealed. "He'll be here soon, and I haven't done my makeup yet."

"Go and do your makeup," Lucy said. "I can finish here."

"We're not going to be ready," Lois shrilled.

"Yes, we will," Lucy said. "All we have to do is put the pasta in a big pot with boiling water and set the table."

"Have you opened the wine?" Lois swung her head left and right in a frantic search for the missing bottle. "Where's the wine? Did you put it somewhere?"

"It's next to the stove, remember?" Lucy said. "We put it there so Claude would think you'd used it for your epicurean pasta sauce."

"Of course," Lois said, making a dash for the stove. She picked up the bottle and stared at it as if it were an unfamiliar object. "Shouldn't we open it?"

"Go and do your makeup," Lucy repeated, firmly taking the bottle from her sister. "And don't forget to take the rollers out of your hair."

Lois disappeared into the bathroom. Lucy shovelled the cooked pasta into a saucepan and added water from the faucet. She turned on the heat under both pans and then swept through the kitchen, collecting the bags and containers that bore evidence of their subterfuge. "Claude had better be one super guy," she muttered.

Ten minutes later, the kitchen looked appropriately messy and the containers had been stowed away in Lucy's bag. "Lois!" Lucy called. "Are you ready? Claude will be here soon."

Lois burst out from her bedroom, hopping as she bent over to put on her second shoe.

"You look great, Lois," Lucy said, admiring her sister's figure-hugging black dress. "I don't think Claude will be focussing on the food."

Lois smiled weakly. "You've been an amazing help, Luce. I would have been a wreck without you."

"I should get going," Lucy said. "My cooking class starts in less than half an hour. I've got all the take-out containers."

"What are you cooking tonight?" Lois asked as she stood before the mirror and brushed at a few specks on her dress.

"French toast," Lucy replied. "Mrs Spangher seems to have a thing about toast."

"You get the French toast," Lois said with a slightly unhinged giggle. "I get the French guy."

"I hope you have a great night," Lucy said. She picked up the bag containing the take-out trash.

Lois hugged her sister. "Thanks, Lucy," Lois said. "Call me tomorrow, and I'll tell you all about it."

***

Left alone, Lois cautiously approached the stove. The pasta was bubbling away merrily, and the sauce smelled good enough to elicit a response from her stomach. She hadn't had time for lunch, and breakfast had been a chocolate bar and two cups of coffee gulped down at her desk.

The bottle of wine was open on the table. Lois surveyed the scene. Lucy had done a great job, adding a few extra touches that Lois would never have thought to include -- a small vase of flowers and cutely folded napkins.

Was tonight the night her relationship with Claude would move to the next level? Was that what she wanted?

She didn't want to lose him -- she was sure about that.

He was more cultured than any man she'd ever met. And so very charming. Lois was aware that many women would find him attractive.

She returned to the stove and prodded through the bubbles. At least the pasta would be hot.

Back at the table, she poured herself a little of the wine and swilled it down, hoping it would help calm her nerves.

As she placed her glass on the table, the phone cut through the silence.

"Lois Lane," she said, praying it wasn't a story.

"Ah, Lois. It's Claude."

It was difficult to hear his voice above the riotous background noise. "Where are you?" she said loudly down the phone.

"I've been unavoidably detained," he said. "I won't be able to make dinner tonight."

"You won't?"

"No. Sorry. This thing came up. I can't get out of it. I knew you'd understand, darling."

"I cooked," Lois said, fearing she sounded needy.

"Sorry? It's hard to hear. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Can we re-schedule? What about next week?" Lois glanced at the wall calendar, and noting the date, she suggested, "Thursday?"

"Thursday?" He didn't sound pleased, but Lois told herself it was probably due to the difficulties in hearing.

"Yes. It's ... it's Valentine's Day."

"You'll cook for us, *ma cherie*?"

Cook? Again? At least this time, she would have a week to prepare. "Yes. Of course."

"Excellent. I look forward to it. I have to go, Lois. Goodnight." The line clicked dead.

"Goodnight, Claude." Lois returned the phone, slipped her shoes from her feet, and poured herself a full glass of the wine.

What had been so important that Claude had had to cancel their date?

She went to the stove and turned off the heat.

An hour later, most of the wine was gone, one saucepan contained an inedible gluggy mound of pasta and the other a dry, blackened sauce, and Lois had reached the point where the alcohol had just about drowned her disappointment.

Leaving the food, the dirty pans, the set table, and the rest of the wine, she went to bed.

Home cooking was overrated.

Even Claude thought so.

***

"That's good, Lucy," Mrs Spangher said. "Try to cut the potato cubes to the same size so they will cook evenly."

"Mrs Spangher?" Lucy said, pausing from her dicing and looking over her shoulder at her instructor.

"Yes, Lucy?"

"Do you ever conduct lessons in a home?"

Mrs Spangher considered for a moment. "I haven't before," she said, "but I suppose I could if the kitchen were properly equipped."

Lucy wasn't sure Lois's kitchen came under the heading of 'properly equipped', but there was no way she was going to risk a repeat of last week's debacle. "Would you go to my sister's apartment and teach her how to cook a meal?"

"What sort of a meal?"

"Something ... exotic."

"Your sister has basic skills and wishes to advance?" Mrs Spangher asked.

"Not exactly," Lucy said. "She has offered to cook a meal for her friend on Thursday night, but -"

"Valentine's Day?" Mrs Spangher's raised eyebrows softened to a little smile. "So there will be just two people eating?"

"Yes. It's important the meal is perfect. I think my sister needs someone beside her ... to advise her, you know, and give her a few tips. About things like when the pasta is cooked."

"She wants it *al dente*?"

"Al what?"

Mrs Spangher seemed to be reconsidering.

"Please, Mrs Spangher," Lucy said desperately. "My sister really needs some help."

"Thursday evening?"

"Yes."

"What type of meal?"

"Anything. Anything that looks like it was made by a skilled cook."

"There would be a fee."

"Of course," Lucy said. "I'm sure Lois would be willing to pay whatever you think is fair."

Mrs Spangher nodded. "Give me her address before you leave tonight, and tell your sister to expect me at five-thirty on Thursday."

"Thank you," Lucy said as the cooking instructor moved to the next student. Under her breath, she added, "You've just saved me from the perils of Lois's kitchen."

***

"She's going to come here?" Lois said.

"Yes," Lucy said firmly. "Think about how lucky you were, Lois. If Claude had come last week, you would have fed him mushy pasta and charcoal-chip sauce. You've been given another chance. With Mrs Spangher helping you, you'll be able to produce something edible, and I'm sure Claude will be impressed."

"But I don't want to learn how to cook," Lois whined. "I told you that when you asked me to join the class with you."

"This isn't learning how to cook," Lucy said. "This is extracting yourself from the consequences of a foolish lie."

Lois glared, but its ferocity quickly waned, and she said, "OK. When will she be here?"

"Five-thirty. She'll direct the cooking and preparation. She'll leave just before Claude arrives. He'll think you cooked it."

"Will you be here, too?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I have a date."

"A date?" Lois said, making no effort to cover her surprise.

"Yes," Lucy said. "Adam, from the cooking class. We're going to High Spirits."

"The bar on Seventh Avenue?" Lois asked. "Why would Adam take you somewhere like that?"

"His brother works there," Lucy said.

"From what I've heard, people only go there to ... well, to pick up a companion for the night."

"I'll be with Adam," Lucy said. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

"Oh." Lois managed a smile. "That sounds great, Lucy. I hope you and Adam have a wonderful time."

"Thanks," Lucy said. "Your date will be wonderful, too. Mrs. Spangher is a sensational cook."

"Do I need to buy stuff? I wouldn't know -"

"You don't need to get anything. Mrs Spangher said she would bring all the ingredients. But you need to be here; she said she is an instructor, not a cook-for-hire."

"Just be here? That's all?"

Lucy nodded. "Be here, and look as if you have some interest in learning the finer points of cookery. Excuse yourself early enough that you can dash to your bedroom to make yourself look ravishing. Bid goodbye to Mrs Spangher, greet Claude with a slightly self-satisfied smile, and wow him completely with your meal and your company."

Lois broke into a smile. "Thanks for arranging it, Lucy," she said. "Sorry I didn't sound very appreciative. I never should have told Claude I could cook."

"It's done now," Lucy said, patting her sister's arm. "And I bet Claude will have the best meal he's ever eaten on Thursday."

***

On the dot of five-thirty on Thursday, a crisp knock sounded on Lois's door. She quickly cleared her counter of several folders of story notes, two used spoons, a scattering of toast crumbs, and an empty ice-cream tub. At the door, she looked through the peek-hole.

A man was there. Dark-haired. Young. Wearing glasses.

Leaving the chain hooked, Lois opened her door a few inches. "Yes?"

"Ms Lane?" He smiled tentatively. "My name is Clark Kent. Mrs Spangher has a migraine, so she asked me to come instead."

Part 2

Lois looked the stranger up and down. Under each arm, he carried a cardboard box, overflowing with more food and equipment than could possibly be needed for a single meal. "Mr Kent?" she said, scoring her words with suspicion.

"Yes," he said, nodding earnestly. "Mrs Spangher told me your sister, Lucy, is in her cooking class and Lucy said -"

"Mrs Spangher has a headache?"

"A migraine."

"Do you have ID?"

"Ah ... yes." He placed both boxes on the floor, pulled his billfold from his jeans pocket, and held out his driver's licence for her inspection.

"You're from Kansas?" Lois said, also noting that, despite his youthful looks, he was a year older than she was.

"Yes. I've only been in Metropolis a few months."

Her eyes slid from the photograph to his face, and from there, slithered down his body to the boxes at his feet. "You brought knives," she said.

His gaze dropped, and he shuffled uncomfortably. "Mrs. Spangher suggested I bring everything we need," he said. "I can leave them out here if you would prefer."

A second survey of the boxes' contents revealed a lettuce, tomato, cucumber, and onions, which seemed to support his case. "You can put your licence away," Lois said.

He returned the card. "I can give you Mrs. Spangher's number, and you can call her to substantiate my story."

"Why did she send *you*? Specifically?"

"I work for Mrs Spangher," he said, picking up the boxes again. "She received too many applicants for her winter class, so she advertised for someone to take a second group. When my original plans in Metropolis didn't work out, I applied and got the position."

"You're a cookery teacher?"

"I think my official title is a 'culinary instructor'," he said with a quick grin. "But, yes, I teach people to cook."

Realising that if she chose to slam the door in his face, she would be condemning herself to a desperate, last-minute quest for take-out, Lois released the chain. "Come in," she said, keeping her tone free from any trace of discernible welcome.

"Thank you."

Lois peered into the boxes as he walked past her. Some of the equipment was unfamiliar, and the number of little pots seemed patently excessive.

Mr. Kent deposited the boxes on her counter and turned. "Mrs Spangher said you require guidance in preparing a special meal."

Guidance? Lois studied Mr. Kent for a moment as an idea curled through her mind. He looked blandly nice. Innocent. Gullible. Lois made a sweeping gesture around her kitchen. "I'll leave you to it." She picked up the folders of story notes and headed for her bedroom.

With a quick movement, the cooking teacher stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

"What?" she barked.

"Mrs. Spangher said I was to cook *with *you, not *for* you."

"I don't have the time," Lois said airily. "And really, kitchens and I don't mix at all. I'll probably ruin everything. You just -"

"No."

She gasped. "No?"

"No. Mrs. Spangher was insistent that we are to prepare the meal together."

"But I have a date," Lois said. "He'll be here at seven-thirty."

"Then we should get started."

Lois gave him with a long, frost-covered stare and waited for him to crumble. He didn't. "You're actually going to make me help you?" she asked disdainfully.

"I thought I was here to help you."

It was cards-on-the-table time. "I know nothing about cooking," Lois said. "I have no interest in knowing anything. I simply want a delicious home-cooked meal for my guest."

Mr Kent's only response was a slight elevation to his left eyebrow, but his meaning was clear. If she wanted the meal cooked, she was going to have to get into the kitchen.

With a glare that had liquefied men with more credentials than a cooking teacher from Kansas, Lois stomped past him and into the kitchen. "What are we making?"

"Butter chicken with wild rice," Mr Kent replied mildly as he began lifting items out of the boxes and placing them in well-ordered groups on the counter.

"Butter chicken?" Lois questioned. "Does that have pasta in it?"

"No," he said. "It's an Indian recipe."

"Indian? I wanted something Italian."

Mr Kent paused from his task of unpacking the boxes. "Mrs Spangher didn't mention that you had a preference."

"Perhaps she was too busy giving orders about exactly who was to do the cooking," Lois grumbled.

"Would you like me to go and get the ingredients for chicken cannelloni?"

Lois checked the time. They still had almost two hours before Claude was due to arrive.

"It won't take me long to get everything we need," Mr Kent said. "I can be back in fifteen minutes."

Lois cast a glance over the assortment of foods on her counter. Assuming they were edible and Mr Kent from Kansas could actually cook, the result should be impressively exotic.

"Did Mrs Spangher suggest butter chicken?" she asked.

"No," Mr Kent replied. "She said you wanted assistance with a home-cooked meal. With today being Valentine's Day, I made some assumptions. I'm sorry if there has been a misunderstanding."

"What assumptions?"

"Ah ... that you'd want something romantic."

Lois had never thought of chicken as being particularly romantic. But then again, her list of romantic foods started and ended with chocolate. "How is chicken romantic?" she demanded.

Mr Kent looked a little taken aback by her question, and she was sure the tops of his ears deepened in colour. "Well," he said, "butter chicken is a perfect blend of smooth texture and spicy taste."

"Did I ask for spicy?"

A tiny chink appeared in Mr Kent's composure, and Lois felt a corresponding lift in her spirits. Perhaps this wasn't going to be such a drag, after all. "I'll go and get the ingredients for cannelloni," he said. "I'll only be a few -"

"No! We don't have time." She sighed ... overdramatically. "It will have to be butter chicken."

Mr Kent regarded her solemnly for a moment. Then, his smile slowly unfolded, and to Lois's dismay, her annoyance dissolved with less resistance than butter in a furnace.

"We'll make the chicken together," he said, "and then I'll prepare the salad and cook the rice so you will have plenty of time to get ready."

He was offering a compromise, but Lois had recovered enough to lob a hand grenade at his feet. "You think I'm going to need a lot of time?"

Mr Kent didn't falter. "No," he said. "I think you look fine just the way you are. But you're not going to enjoy cooking if you're feeling stressed about time."

"I'm not going to enjoy cooking even if we have all week," she muttered.

That seemed to amuse him. "Do you have room in the fridge for a few things?"

Lois yanked open the door of the fridge, and he handed her chicken, butter, milk, cream, and yoghurt.

He removed the empty boxes from the counter, leaving the contents lined up like soldiers on parade. "We need *all* this just to make one dish?" Lois asked sceptically.

"If we're going to make it properly. From real ingredients."

"In Metropolis, we have ready-made sauces," she said, hoping Lucy's information was accurate. "They come in jars and are available at grocery stores."

"But if you'd wanted that sort of meal, you wouldn't have asked for Mrs Spangher's assistance," Mr Kent said.

"I told you already. I know nothing. I wouldn't know how to use a jar of sauce. When I agreed to Mrs Spangher coming, I didn't realise you were going to make everything so complicated."

"I promise it won't be complicated," he said. "And it will taste so much better having been made from fresh ingredients."

"It's a huge waste of time," Lois declared. "It would be much easier to -"

"I thought you were Lois Lane -- the reporter from the Daily Planet."

She regarded him blankly. "I am."

"Your reputation indicates that you rarely take the easy option."

"Really?" she snarled.

"Really." His smile hovered around his mouth, and his eyes held hers in a gentle grip.

Lois jerked her attention to the counter. "Let's get on with it," she said. "My guest will be here in less than two hours, and you have to be gone by then."

"Of course, Ms Lane." Mr Kent took off his jacket, hung it on the back of a chair, and walked over to the sink, rolling his shirt sleeves to his elbows.

Lois picked up a hand towel and followed him.

His hands were strong and masculine. And his forearms ...

Lois gulped as she surveyed the long strips of muscle, her eyes gliding over the bunched-up sleeve to where the loose material couldn't conceal the bulge of his bicep. When he wasn't teaching a cooking class, Mr Kent must spend a lot of time working out.

"Ms Lane?"

She jumped and realised he had finished washing his hands and was waiting for her to give over the towel. She thrust it at him.

"Thanks," he said, flashing his smile again.

By the time her hands were clean and dry, Mr Kent had lined up two chopping boards and two knives. "We're going to cut up the vegetables first," he said. "Would you like to do the brown onion or the green onions?"

"Green?"

"You don't sound sure."

"Green," Lois said decisively, hoping he wouldn't realise that she'd never cut up a green onion before. However, the one time she'd cut up a brown onion, it had made her cry.

He handed her four onions. "Cut off the end," he said, pointing to where murky strands protruded from the end of the white bulb. "Then peel off a couple of the outer layers, starting from the top."

Taking a deep breath, Lois lopped one onion. "Like this?" she said, surprised at how easily the outer covering came away.

"Yep," he said. "When it's peeled, slice it widthways."

Lois made three cuts and paused where the white morphed into green.

"Keep going," Mr Kent said. "You'll get little green circles."

When she arrived at the end, she surveyed the disparity in the size of her slices and groaned inwardly.

Mr Kent smiled. "Well done."

It wasn't well done, but his approval gave her the impetus to attack the remaining three green onions. Next to her, Mr Kent peeled and diced a brown onion, handling the knife with practiced ease.

"Great," he said when they had finished. He scraped his pile of perfectly regular squares onto a plate and added her mishmash of green onion pieces. "Now we need lemon juice, ginger, and garlic."

There were no bottles among Mr Kent's provisions. "I only have orange juice," Lois said dubiously.

He picked up the yellow fruit. "We have lemon juice," he said. "We just need to get it out of the lemon."

"Oh," Lois said, feeling her cheeks warm. "Of course."

Mr. Kent placed the lemon on her board. "Could you cut it in half, please?"

"OK." Lois picked up her knife and hesitated. Did she cut it lengthways or widthways?

Mr Kent leant closer to her, his shoulder brushing against hers. "Along here," he said, running his finger along its girth.

"I ..." Lois felt her cheeks heat. Annoyed at herself, she stated coldly, "I don't cook."

"That's why I'm here to help," he said, sliding a smile sideways.

She sliced through the lemon.

Mr Kent produced a little jug with a corrugated cone top. He took one half of the lemon and with a pushing and twisting action, extracted the juice. "Your turn," he said, handing her the other half.

Lois pressed down, copying his actions. To her satisfaction, more juice dripped into the jug.

He collected up the onion scraps and lemon halves and put them in a container. "My mom composts," he said.

"Did she teach you how to cook?"

"She's the one who started my interest in cooking." He picked up an oddly shaped beige nub and a vaguely spherical white globe that was splashed with purple blotches. "I've travelled around a bit, learning new recipes from every country I've visited."

Lois had travelled, too. She hadn't learned one single recipe from anyone.

"Would you like to do the garlic or the ginger?" he asked, holding them out for her inspection.

"What has to be done to them?"

"They both need peeling. After that, the garlic has to be crushed and the ginger grated."

Crushing sounded less hazardous to her nails than grating. "Garlic," Lois decided.

Mr Kent pulled apart the white sphere and handed her four segments. "Cut off the top and bottom and peel away the papery wrapper," he said.

When she pulled away the thin layer of coating, it stuck to her fingers. Lois flicked her hand, but it didn't dislodge. Mr Kent chuckled as he reached over and plucked off the offending sliver.

"Thanks," Lois said, allowing herself a small smile.

"You're doing great." He picked up an odd-looking instrument. "This is a garlic crusher," he said. Opening its jaws, he placed one of the segments inside. He took her hands and positioned them around the levers, guided her to a position above a small container, and said, "Squeeze."

Lois squeezed. Juicy flecks dribbled out of the crusher. She leaned forward to get a closer view, and stinging fumes stabbed at her eyes. She dropped the implement and -

"No, no." Strong hands took firm but gentle possession of her wrists. "You can't rub your eyes. "You have garlic and onion on your fingers."

Lois relaxed in his hold. The burning slowly subsided, but she could feel moisture leaking from her tightly closed lids.

"Any better?" he asked.

"A bit."

"Open your eyes and blink a few times."

She obeyed. Mr Kent came into view, just a few inches away.

"Are you OK?" he asked.

"I ... I think so."

He put both of her hands in one of his and reached behind her for a tissue. Still holding her hands, he patted around her eyes with meticulous care. Her nostrils caught an unfamiliar aroma as his hand hovered near her face.

"Better?" he asked when her eyes were dry.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry," he said, releasing her hands. "Garlic can do that, but you didn't have any problems with the green onions, so I thought you'd be all right."

"Thank you." Lois pushed out a wobbly smile, trying to calm a heart that was beating wildly in response to his touch, his words, his close proximity.

Needing a distraction, she sniffed her fingers. The aroma of onion and garlic was strong. "I don't even want to think about how much it would have hurt if I'd rubbed this into my eyes," she said. "I didn't know garlic could be so ferocious."

"You were crushing it," he said with a smile. "Consider it a protest."

"I guess I would protest, too," she conceded.

"Hang on. You're leaking again." He took another tissue and tenderly brushed it along her lower eye lid.

As he finished dabbing under her eyes, she caught his hand. "Is that ginger I can smell?"

"Y..." He cleared his throat. "Yes."

She lifted his fingers to her nose and inhaled. "Wow."

"Haven't you eaten gingerbread before?"

"Yes, but that is a lot stronger."

"Fresh ginger always is."

She sniffed again -- mostly to cover her embarrassment at having taken possession of his hand with such familiarity -- and then quickly released him.

His smile flickered into the moment of awkwardness. "Shall we ... shall we continue cooking, Ms Lane?"

"I think you should call me 'Lois' now that you've rescued me from the vindictive garlic."

His smile caused mini-explosions through her heart. "I'm 'Clark'," he said. "And I'm happy to rescue you any time you need it."

Lois wasn't in the habit of needing rescuing. Well, not that she admitted, anyway. But the retort she would have fired at just about every other man was muted by the magnificence of his smile. "Thanks ... Clark."

"You're welcome ... Lois."

Part 3

Lois.

The way Clark said her name -- sweet and warm and rich like melting chocolate -- sent tingles skittering along her spine. She gasped, stilled, and stared at him.

Clark, however, had moved on. "I'll see to the rest of the garlic," he said, picking up the crusher and slipping another clove between its jaws.

Hauling her mind back to their task, Lois said, "Do you want me to grate the ginger?"

"It's done," he said. "You can get the garam masala. It's the dark brown powder in the pot with the blue lid."

Lois located the pot, skipped over its contents with a cursory glance, and settled on something more tantalising.

Broad chest. Wide shoulders. Neat butt.

Working the garlic crusher was doing incredible things to his arm muscles.

His head swung around, catching her in the act of inspection. "From a distance, the garlic smells kind of nice," she said.

"That's just one of the wonderful things about using natural ingredients," Clark said. "You get to experience all the individual aromas as well as the combined tastes."

Lois unscrewed the lid of the pot.

"Be careful," Clark said, tossing a smile in her direction. "That packs a punch, too."

Lois sniffed cautiously, and an exotic potpourri of fragrances teased her nostrils. "You weren't kidding, were you?"

"No," he said. "It's a mix of cumin, cardamom, black pepper, cinnamon, nutmeg -"

"Hold on," she said, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Didn't you say we were going to make everything from scratch?"

For a suspended moment, Clark appeared startled by her tone. Then, she giggled, and his smile appeared with the brilliance of a new dawn. "I did make it from scratch," he said. "It seemed easier than bringing all the containers of individual spices."

"What happens if I want to make butter chicken for myself?" Lois said. "How will I get the garam masala?"

"Maybe I'll have to come back and teach you how to make it," Clark said lightly.

That sounded good -- surprisingly so, for a woman who had avoided the spectre of food preparation with the same tenacity that others applied to crazed gunmen. Turning back to the counter, Lois said, "What's next?"

"We need a couple of bay leaves," Clark said, taking out two dry leaves. "You should remove them before you eat." He picked up a small elongated vegetable with a shiny green skin. "And chilli."

"That's hot, isn't it?"

"Very."

"Shall I slice it?" Lois said. She pointed to the stem. "I take this bit off first, right?"

"Right," he said, although he didn't give it to her. "Do you have any cuts on your fingers?"

Lois examined her hands, wondering if he would want to check them, too. "I don't think so."

"No paper cuts?"

"Maybe. I get those a lot. Why?"

"The juice of this stuff stings."

"Really?"

"Really," he said. "Perhaps I should do it."

"Do you have any cuts?" Lois grabbed his hands and examined them. His skin was soft, contrasting delectably with the underlying strength.

"N...o," he said. "No, I don't have any cuts."

The catch in his voice tightened her stomach muscles. She released his hands, reminded herself that the man of her dreams was coming for a romantic Valentine's dinner, and said, "Perhaps it would be best if you dealt with the chilli."

Clark turned to the board on the counter and removed the stem from the chilli.

Lois watched, her mind ticking over. He'd said he'd left Kansas and travelled, which suggested he hadn't been in a serious relationship in his home town. He'd been in Metropolis a few months; surely, that was long enough for any number of women to show interest. "Do you have plans for this evening?" she asked casually.

He put the chilli slices in a small conical bowl and began grinding them with a stone club. "Yes," he replied. "I'm teaching you how to make butter chicken. This is a mortar and pestle. We grind the chilli so it spreads evenly through the sauce and doesn't give someone a nasty shock."

Thinking she might have discerned traces of tension in his response, Lois quickly said, "I'm sorry. It's Valentine's Day. I hope Mrs Spangher's call didn't ruin your plans."

"It's OK."

"You'll be finished here by seven-twenty. You can change and be at her door by eight. That's still early enough to have a wonderful -"

"Lois."

Her name sliced gently through the deluge of her words. "Yes?"

"It's time to start cooking."

"Oh." Was that an admission he had a date? A hint that he'd like them to hurry because someone he cared about was waiting for him to finish up here? "Of course."

Clark took a large frying pan, set it on Lois's stove, and added a squiggle of olive oil. "Would you like to stir?" he asked, offering her a wooden spoon.

"OK."

"When the oil is hot, we add the onions," Clark said. They stood, only a few inches apart, watching the oil creep across the pan. Did he have hopes for his date? Where were they in their relationship?

"Should we turn up the heat to save time?" Lois asked.

Clark checked his watch. "We have plenty of time," he said. "You won't be late, I promise."

"You can leave early if you need to."

"I'd rather stay and watch the meal while you're getting ready," he said.

"OK," Lois said, remembering the pasta mush. "Thanks." She dragged her eyes from him. "How do we know when the oil is hot enough?"

"Olive oil has a very high smoke point," Clark said. "So smoke would be a definite sign that there's too much heat." He grinned as he turned to the counter and picked up the plate. "Throw in a couple of pieces of onion. They should sizzle; not spit."

She did. The oil hissed. "Too hot?" Lois guessed.

"No. Just right." Clark swept the rest of the onion from the plate with a knife. "Stir them while they cook."

"OK." Given his short time in Metropolis, the relationship was probably in its early stages. Was this the first date? Was he going to cook for her? Or take her to a romantic restaurant?

Did he love her? Did he know how she felt about him? Or were they still stuck in the circling phase where both were cautious about disclosing too much?

The aroma rising from the pan made Lois's stomach growl with hunger. "I never realised onions could smell so good."

"My mom always says that if she's running late with supper, she fries up some onions just as Dad walks in, because they fill the air with the promise of a meal to come."

His affection for his parents was so tangible that it tugged on the cords of disillusionment strung through Lois's heart. "You're close with your folks, aren't you?" she said.

"Yeah," he said. "They're great people. Keep stirring. I'll get the butter."

Perhaps Mr and Mrs Kent were the reason why Clark was such a nice guy. "There's butter in butter chicken?" Lois asked with fake surprise.

"Just a little," he said, smiling as he added two small chunks. They melted into a sputter of bubbles, releasing another aroma into the air.

"My apartment is going to smell like a restaurant," Lois said.

"You like it?"

"Yes." She took a deep breath, feeling like an intrepid traveller exploring new and surprising terrain. "Yes, I do."

"Good." Clark took the spoon from her, his fingertips brushing over hers. "I'll stir now," he said. "You can get the other ingredients."

Lois swept a glance over the counter. "Is this a quiz to see if I remember all the names?"

"Do you?"

"Try me."

"Crushed garlic first," Clark said. "Keep it away from you eyes."

That was good advice. The stinging sensation hadn't been pleasant. Clark's ministrations, on the other hand ...

Lois tipped the garlic into the pan.

"Ginger next."

She tossed in the flecks of grated ginger.

"Garam masala. Bay leaves. Lemon juice."

She got them, one after the other, and added them to the pan.

"I don't think you were entirely honest with me, Ms Lane," Clark said, his face solemn, his eyes twinkling. "You told me you know nothing about cooking."

"I don't."

"Didn't," he corrected. He gave her the spoon. "Don't let it stick to the bottom of the pan."

Lois stirred, watching as the assortment of ingredients combined. Her mind flitted back to the upcoming date. His; not hers.

She figured a date with Clark would be wonderful. To be lavished with that smile ... to be the focus of his attention ... to talk and laugh with him ... to have abundant opportunities to check out his body.

And that was just at dinner. Afterwards -

"How much heat do you want?" he asked.

"Ah ..." Lois could feel herself reddening and hoped desperately that her face did not give away the train of her thoughts. "Ah ... I like spicy food."

"How about ..." Clark paused. "... your guest?"

"Claude," Lois said. "I'm not sure. He's Italian. Do they eat spicy food in Italy?"

Clark added about half of the red chilli. "I'll get you to test it later, and we can add more if you think it needs it."

"OK," she said. "What's that?"

"Tomato puree." He poured a thick red river into the pan.

"When you walked in with two full boxes, I didn't think it was possible that you'd need so many different ingredients," Los said.

"If you think you might want to make butter chicken again, I can write out the recipe for you," Clark said. "It's not difficult."

"I don't think I could do all this," Lois said. "Not alone."

Clark opened her fridge and took out the cream, milk, and yoghurt.

"They go in, too?" Lois asked, her voice lifting with surprise. "I though they were for dessert."

"No," Clark said, grinning. "They are important ingredients in butter chicken. They give it the creamy texture."

Lois nodded sagely. "Making it romantic?" she teased.

She'd hoped her comment would prompt another smile, and it did ... eventually. But the pause was noticeable, giving her time to wonder if he was thinking about his date.

Was she someone he had met at the cooking class? A student, perhaps? Had she been disappointed when Clark had called to give her bad news that he was going to have to delay their date? Was she thinking about him now as she prepared for the evening ahead?

The bright red colour of the sauce had been tamed by the dairy foods, turning it golden brown. "This is making me hungry," Lois said. "And there's still over an hour before I can eat."

Clark took a teaspoon, loaded it with some of the sauce, and offered it to her. "Have a taste."

"Is that allowed?"

"Only a foolish cook puts a meal on the table without testing it beforehand."

"Did your mother say that?"

"Yep."

Instead of taking the spoon, Lois put her hand around his for steadiness and slipped the spoon into her mouth.

A sensation of taste bombarded her tongue as fire from the contact of their skin ignited her palm. "Mmmm."

"Good?" Clark asked.

"It's incredible."

"Better than a jar?"

Lois pretended to consider. His expression turned stern. She felt amusement push against her mouth.

His mouth softened, poised on the threshold of a smile. "Well?"

"Much better," she said.

His smile came, garnished with a dash of satisfaction.

Realising she was in danger of staring for a protracted time, Lois quickly asked, "What's next?"

"We need to cut up the chicken." Clark sprinkled some more garam masala and a red powder in a bowl and began cutting up the chicken and tossing in the little cubes. "Can you keep stirring the sauce?"

Lois slid the spoon through the sauce. "What's the red stuff?" she asked.

"Cayenne pepper."

"Whoa," she said. "This is going to be hot."

"I brought extra yoghurt," Clark said with a grin. "Serve with a dollop on top. That'll douse down some of the heat."

Lois continued stirring, giving her task just enough attention that the sauce didn't stick to the pan. She watched Clark cutting up the chicken. His hands moved with easy proficiency, arousing a bevy of questions. If cooking wasn't his usual job, what did he do?

"How's it doing?"

Lois jumped at his question. "Good," she said. "I think."

"Is it thickening?"

"Ah ... a bit."

"Good job." His compliment came with another smile. "You can move that pan from the heat now."

She slid it across, and Clark put a new pan over the heat. He added oil, and said, "Next, we're going to cook the chicken."

They stood side by side as Clark tipped about half of the cubes of chicken into the pan and Lois wielded the spoon.

They weren't physically touching, but she could feel his closeness. She could smell his aftershave. She glanced up at his smooth cheeks. Chin. Jaw.

Obviously, he'd shaved recently.

Probably in preparation for a quick getaway and rapid transformation from cooking instructor to date.

"What are you going to do after we've finished?" she asked.

"Well, there's the salad to prepare, the rice to cook, and I brought the ingredients to make something sweet to go with after-dinner coffee."

"Do we have time for all that?"

"It won't take long," he said. "I'll make the dessert while you get ready for your date."

"Dessert?"

"A recipe of my mom's."

"Is it romantic, too?" Lois asked. "Like the chicken?"

"Very romantic," he said solemnly.

She leaned sideways -- just a few degrees -- and nudged him to let him know she wasn't necessarily accepting his definition of 'romantic'.

He grinned. "You'll see."

"Thank you, Clark," she said. "It's very kind of you to plan such a wonderful meal."

"Mrs Spangher said this meal is important to you."

"It is." Realising she sounded irresolute, Lois declared, "It's really important to me."

Part 4

The silence that followed Lois's statement hung around them like a prickly blanket. She fixed her concentration on the chicken pieces and firmly subdued her mind's inclination to line up Claude and Clark and conduct a thorough comparison.

Last week, she had told Lucy that Claude could be 'the one'.

"You're doing great," Clark said. He turned the heat to low, skirted around her, and picked up the pan containing the sauce. "We need to switch the pans, and then you can spoon the chicken into the sauce."

Lois slid her pan across the stove as Clark returned the first pan to the heat. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I'm going to grind the cashew nuts to a powder," he said, turning from the stove to the counter.

"I'll do it," Lois said, grabbing the club-shaped implement. Was it the mortar? Or the pestle? Either way, she needed to get her mind on the real purpose of this evening, and another display of masculine muscularity wasn't going to be helpful.

"Sure," Clark said, smiling easily as he tipped the nuts into the bowl and pushed it closer to her.

Lois poked the club into the bowl. One nut split in half.

"You might have to be a little more vigorous than that," Clark said, pausing from his task of transferring the chicken into the sauce. "A grinding circular motion with the pestle works well."

Lois rammed it into the mortar. When she lifted it, some of the nuts had crumbled. She glanced up at Clark and saw his smile of encouragement. "Is your cooking class full?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, stirring the chicken through the sauce. "Why?"

"I figure cooking skills could be useful."

"You could apply for the spring class. It starts in a couple of months."

"Will you be teaching it?"

"I don't know."

"You said your initial plans didn't work out."

"That's right."

"So being a 'culinary instructor' is Plan B?"

"Yes."

"What was Plan A?"

Clark didn't respond for a moment.

"Sorry," Lois said. "I'm a reporter. Asking questions that are none of my business is a part of my job."

He smiled again. "Mine, too."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm a reporter, too. At least, that's what I want to be."

Lois abandoned the mortar and pestle and walked over to the stove. "You're a reporter?"

"Yeah. I did some freelance work while I was travelling. Then I thought it might be good to settle somewhere, so I came to Metropolis."

"Did you apply at the Daily Planet?"

"I wrote the editor, Mr White, but he replied that there were no vacancies at present."

"I guess you know I work at the Planet?"

"Yep."

"You've read my work?"

"All the time." He smiled, blushed a little, and said, "You're brilliant."

A gush of pleasure tumbled through her. "Ah ... thank you." She returned to grinding the nuts, asking, "Did you apply at any of the other newspapers?"

Clark didn't reply immediately, which kindled her curiosity. "The Metropolis Star," he said eventually.

"No luck there, either?" Lois asked, wondering just how bad a reporter you'd have to be to get rejected by the Star.

"No. Not exactly."

"Not exactly?"

"I worked there for a short time."

"And?"

"And you need to add fenugreek seeds to the cashew powder."

Lois slapped her hands onto her hips to let Clark know his evasion hadn't gone unnoticed. That brought a smile to his mouth, but he said nothing as he opened yet another pot and sprinkled some wheat-coloured seeds into the mortar.

Lois picked up the pestle and resumed her assault. "Why did you leave the Star?"

"Fenugreek seeds can get a bit jumpy when you hit them. The cashew powder helps keep them in the mortar."

Lois thrust the pestle into the mortar, and two seeds flew out and bounced along the counter.

Clark retrieved them, tossed them back, and shot her a grin. "See?"

"Yes," Lois said. She used her other hand to make a cover for the bowl and began pounding again.

"The editor of the Star sent me out to investigate some missing funds at the Port Authority," Clark said as he turned back to the stove and continued stirring.

"Really?" Lois said, immediately interested. "I didn't hear anything about that."

"That's because there weren't any missing funds."

"Uggh," Lois said. "I hate it when a story fizzles out to nothing."

"I told Mr Carpenter, and he asked me to report on what I had discovered, so I wrote a few paragraphs about the funds being used for training in safety procedures."

It didn't sound like the most riveting story, but Lois refrained from commenting as she increased her efforts in crushing the seeds.

"He printed my story the next day, failing to mention the safety training and adding in a lot of innuendo about misappropriated funds," Clark said. "I figured he must have found some evidence I'd missed, so I asked him about it. He said the newspaper business was about giving the readers what they wanted and he wasn't going to let a lack of evidence stop him printing the

best stories."

"He dismissed you?" Lois asked.

"No. I quit."

"And now you teach people to cook?"

"It pays the bills," Clark said. "How are you going with the seeds?"

Lois drove home the pestle, catching her finger between it and the mortar. "Ouch!"

Clark was at her side in less than a second. He grasped her hand and gently peeled away her hold on the tip of her throbbing forefinger.

"I think I broke my nail," Lois cried.

Clark gathered her hand in both of his. He pushed his glasses a little way down his nose and peered intently at her finger. As he set his glasses back in place, he turned to her with a dazzling smile. "No, you haven't," he informed her. "The nail's fine." He shuffled them both to the sink and put her finger under the slowly running water. "How does that feel?"

"My finger's OK," Lois said. Her hands, sheathed in his, were burning far more than the finger that had been squashed. "But I felt my nail break."

Clark turned off the faucet and bundled her hand in a towel. As he carefully dried her fingers, he gave her a reassuring smile. "It's OK. Really."

His eyes connected with hers.

Time slowed; her heart raced.

"Are you OK?" Clark asked, sounding as if her answer were the most important thing in the world.

She slid her hand from his and examined her finger. It was a little red, but the nail was perfectly intact.

She tested it with her thumb.

"See?" Clark said. "I told you it was fine."

"I must have bent it, but it feels secure enough now."

Clark picked up the pestle and ground the powder for a few seconds. Lois took the spoon and mindlessly stirred as the streams of tingly warmth slowly abated.

She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder and was struck again by Clark's good looks. He glanced up from the mortar and gave her a smile that reinvigorated the streams to rushing torrents. "How's your finger?" he asked.

Her finger had been forgotten in the wash of physical attraction. "It's ... it's good," Lois said.

He tipped the powder into a bowl, added some water, and stirred vigorously. "This will thicken the sauce as it simmers," he said.

"It's done?" Lois asked, disappointed.

Clark checked his watch. "You have an hour until your guest arrives," he said. "I'll make a salad and something sweet to go with coffee at the end. Then, I'll set the table."

"What about cleaning up?" Lois said.

"I'll do that, too."

"I could help," Lois offered, reluctant to leave.

"I gave my word you would have plenty of time to get ready."

"You'll watch this?" she asked, indicating the pan.

His smile flashed. "I won't let it burn," he said. "I promise."

"OK," Lois said. She rested the spoon against the edge of the pan and went to her bedroom to get ready for her date.

With Claude.

***

Clark's smile died as Lois left the room.

The strain of covering his feelings had intensified with every passing minute.

Lois Lane was beautiful. Smart. Talented.

And currently preparing for her Valentine's date with another man.

The sting of jealousy was something Clark had rarely felt before; now it was sharp, carving up his heart with a finely honed blade.

He'd been aware of Lois Lane -- her work -- before he'd written to Mr White. When Mrs Spangher had called a few hours ago and given the name of their client, he'd been excited by the prospect of meeting her.

But he hadn't expected to be captivated by her before she'd even properly opened her door and granted him entry into her apartment.

Until today, he'd been sceptical about the notion of love at first sight.

Now, he knew better.

He'd seen Lois Lane. He loved her. It was that simple.

Except, it wasn't simple at all. There was a guy, Claude, whom she cared about a great deal. Someone she wanted to impress. Someone she wanted to be with on Valentine's Day.

Clark assembled the ingredients for his planned dessert and glared at them.

When 'Lois Lane' had been merely a name in a byline, chocolate kisses had seemed to be the ideal way to conclude her romantic dinner.

Now ...

Lois was going to share the evening with Claude. They were going to eat the meal he, Clark, had planned for them. They were going to finish the meal with chocolate kisses.

Which could lead to -

He couldn't think about that. He wouldn't.

Clark beat the egg whites, added the sugar, and carefully folded in the cocoa and almond meal. He piped twelve individual mounds onto a baking tray and set them in the oven.

Ten minutes later, the salad was assembled in the bowl.

He took the kisses from the oven and allowed them to cool while he washed the equipment and packed his boxes.

He had dreamed of this a thousand times -- preparing a meal in anticipation of sharing it with the woman he loved.

Never again would his dreams be about a vague lady.

Now, they would be all about Lois Lane.

He set the table, trying not to think about Lois and Claude sitting together. Would they hold hands? Would they laugh? What would they talk about?

Was what she planning to wear? She'd looked so pretty in her jeans and sweater, but Clark figured she was going to be stunning when she walked through the door, ready for Claude.

He melted the dark chocolate and stuck pairs of kisses together, trying valiantly to attain the indifference of a hired cook. He rinsed the rice and set it on the stove to boil.

By seven-fifteen, everything was prepared -- the table awaiting diners, the food ready, and the air embellished with the aromas of butter chicken, tempered by the sweet fragrance of chocolate.

The bedroom door opened. Clark turned, and his breath stopped. His mouth dried. His heart bounced across his ribcage.

Her black dress clung enticingly, accentuating every feminine curve. He hauled his eyes to her face and clung to the smile that had become so familiar.

"You look amazing," he said, careful to inject a measure of detachment into his voice.

"Thank you." She surveyed her apartment. "Clark," she said. "It looks great. Thank you for everything."

"I put the dessert in the fridge."

Lois walked across the room, her high-heels clicking on the floor, and put her hand on the fridge door.

"Don't," Clark said quickly, not wanting to face questions about the kisses. On her puzzled look, he added, "Keep it for a surprise."

"Oh." She backed away from the fridge. "OK."

"The rice is simmering. Turn off the heat when the water has been absorbed. Don't let it stick. And keep stirring the chicken."

Lois reached for her handbag. "You have been fantastic, Clark," she said. "How much do I owe you?"

Clark was sure he couldn't stomach being paid for arranging the perfect evening for Lois and her date. "Mrs Spangher will send you an invoice," he said. "Settle it with her."

"OK." Lois replaced her bag.

Clark slipped on his jacket and picked up the boxes. "I hope you have a wonderful evening, Lois," he said, hoping he didn't sound too insincere.

"Thanks," she said. "Bye, Clark." She opened the door. He walked through it. The door closed.

And his brief presence in Lois's life ended.

Clark wandered dejectedly down the corridor, mourning the loss of something that had never been his.

As he waited for the elevator, Lois's phone rang. Before he had the chance to close down his hearing, he heard her say, "Hi, Lucy."

The doors of the elevator grated open. It was empty. Clark didn't enter; instead, he went to the stairs and descended a few steps. He stopped, stalled by an idea that sprouted in the fog of misery.

If he waited here, he would see Claude pass by on the way to Lois's apartment.

Collecting memories to fuel his torment was a stupid idea, but Clark couldn't help himself. He took less than a second to return the boxes to his apartment and then dropped back onto the steps to await the arrival of the luckiest man on the planet.

Part 5

Lois's mind reeled as her body collapsed against the wall.

"No," she said into the phone. "No. You're wrong. It was someone else."

"Lois," Lucy said. "It was him. He was French. He said his name was Claude. He fits your description perfectly."

"You've never seen Claude. A description could fit dozens of men."

"Yes," Lucy said, heavy with sarcasm. "Metropolis is just bursting with womanising Frenchmen called Claude."

"My Claude is on his way to my apartment," Lois said stiffly. "We have a date."

"He called you? He called to say he's coming?"

"He'll be here," Lois said, unwilling to admit that Claude hadn't returned any of her calls in the past two days.

"He won't be there, Lois," Lucy said. "After he hit on me, Adam told him to leave, and then he went over to a woman and squeezed her butt. She spun around and flung her arm at him. Her engagement ring caught him across the neck."

"What happened then?" Lois asked, wondering if there was any possibility of a story.

"Another woman came to his defence and gave him a handkerchief to wipe up the few spots of blood. There was a short disagreement -- the first woman accused Claude of sexual assault -- and then he left with the second woman."

"It wasn't Claude," Lois insisted. "He can't be at High Spirits because he has a date with me tonight."

"Lois," Lucy said, her voice crackling with frustration. "I'm trying to help you here."

"By calling to crow because you're with Adam and you think I'll be spending Valentine's Day alone?" Lois demanded.

"Of course not," Lucy said with a sigh of resignation. "Just ... just try not to be too blind, sis."

"I'm not blind at all," Lois said. "I know a good man when I meet one." She slammed down the phone and leaned over her counter, gripping it tightly as she tried to calm the surge of dismay souring her insides.

It couldn't be true.

Claude had a date with her. It was Valentine's Day. Tonight meant something. It was important to both of them.

It was going to represent a new step in their relationship.

Lois straightened and went to the stove. She stirred the rice, turned off the heat, and banished Lucy's call from her mind.

Preparing the meal had been fun. She'd enjoyed Clark's company. He'd taught her with good-natured patience. He hadn't ridiculed her lack of knowledge. He'd shown genuine concern when the garlic had stung her eyes. He hadn't used their chance meeting as an opportunity to ask her to speak with Perry on his behalf.

He hadn't capitulated to her attempts to wriggle out of cooking, but he'd been considerate in ensuring she had sufficient time to prepare for her date while he'd seen to the boring bits like cleaning up and making the salad.

Her apartment looked great and smelled fantastic ... welcoming, warm, prepared.

Everything was perfect. It was going to be a night she would remember forever.

The clock ticked over to seven-thirty.

Lois glanced to her door, willing a knock to sound in announcement that her date has arrived.

He would be here, she told herself fiercely. He would be. Lucy had made a mistake. How dare she think she could accuse Claude simply because a Frenchman had behaved badly?

The minutes crawled past.

Lois checked her image in the mirror. Clark had said she looked amazing, and she hadn't missed the veiled glimmer of appreciation in his eyes. By now, their cooking class had probably receded from his mind as he eagerly hurried to meet his date.

Lois wandered to the fridge and opened it. She took out the bowl and inspected the salad. The ingredients had been cut with neat precision and arranged like a work of art. Lois sighed. Clark had done everything to make the evening special.

He'd said there would be something to accompany coffee. She searched the fridge again and found a plate of lightly browned swirly mounds, joined together in pairs with dark icing.

She lifted the plastic wrap and inhaled.

The aroma of rich chocolate tantalised her senses.

Clark was so sweet. He'd thought of everything.

Resisting the temptation to appease her gnawing stomach with a premature taste, she returned the plate to the fridge.

Seven-forty arrived without Claude. Lois deliberately turned away so she couldn't watch the clock mark each passing second and filled her mind with a thousand reasons why he was running late and hadn't called.

Seven-forty-five approached, passed, and left her in its wake.

At seven-fifty, Lois turned off the heat under the butter chicken.

It was time to face the truth.

Claude wasn't coming.

Last week, he had cancelled their date. At least he'd bothered to call.

Tonight ... nothing.

She snatched a tissue from its box.

Claude wasn't coming.

Their relationship would never amount to anything.

It had never really begun, and now, it was over.

A sob escaped from her throat. Her tears rose, acid with mortification. How could she, an award-winning reporter known for her ability to cut through the extraneous and uncover the truth, be so blindly naive when it came to her heart?

That's what hurt the most. Not losing Claude, but the knowledge that she could be so easily duped by a superficial attraction.

Then, it came.

The knock on the door.

For a moment, Lois couldn't move. Then, she hurriedly wiped her eyes, patted down her hair, hauled in a breath, smiled, and opened the door.

Clark Kent stared back at her.

Her glutinous mind could form no words. He seemed similarly stuck, gaping at her, his throat bobbing.

"Clark," she spluttered eventually. "You forgot something?"

"No. No. I ..."

"You?"

"I heard ..." His face had passed through multiple shades of pink and was approaching crimson. "I heard you cry." He looked down, shoulders forward, as if awaiting her rebuke.

"You left my apartment half an hour ago," Lois said.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you go home?"

"I ... I -"

"You kept her waiting?"

He looked up. "Kept who waiting?"

"Your date."

"I don't have a date."

"You don't?"

"No."

His confusion caused a gurgle of laughter to burgeon into her throat. "It seems that I don't either," she said, her statement edged with hysteria.

"You don't?" he said with sympathy.

"He didn't come. Didn't call."

"Ah, Lois." Clark took a step forward, his hand raised. "I'm sorry. You went to so much effort. You must be devastated."

Strangely, she'd moved on already. Only embarrassment lingered, but it was a small price to pay for finally being able to see Claude's true colours. "You don't have a date for Valentine's Day?" she asked.

"No."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

That was absolutely, positively the best news Lois had heard in a very long time. She smiled, stepped back, and fully opened her door. "Come on in," she said. "I have a delicious home-cooked meal, and I can't eat it all by myself."

"Lois ..." Clark grimaced. "I can't."

"Why not? You said you don't have a girlfriend."

"But you have a ... a guest. You said this was important to

you."

"It was," she admitted. "But I've learned some things today."

"Like how to make butter chicken?" he said with a sad smile.

"Other things, too." She gestured for him to enter. "Please, Clark. Please come and share our meal."

Still, he hesitated. "Lois ..."

"Yes?"

"You can't know how much I want to spend this evening with you, but you're feeling angry and disappointed now and I don't want you to do anything you might regret later."

"Like what?"

"If your guest ... Claude ... finds out we had dinner together, it might ruin any chance you have of fixing -"

"I don't want to fix it. It's finished."

"I -"

Lois clasped Clark's hand and yanked him into her apartment. She closed the door, and in a moment of clarity, realised only the truth would save her from appearing shallow and opportunistic. "I had hoped there might be something with Claude," she said. "He's handsome, charming, charismatic, and glamorous. He's also unreliable, selfish, egotistical, and untrustworthy. Whether you stay and eat dinner with me or leave now, I've finished with Claude."

Clark's brow knotted with indecision.

Lois continued. "I realise it looks as if I'm using you as a convenient replacement, but the truth is ..." She smiled nervously. "The truth is, I really like you, Clark, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather be with on Valentine's Day."

He shuffled a little, looked down at his feet, and then faced her squarely. "Lois, I like you, too. A lot. I -"

Harsh, loud banging vibrated her door. Lois's eyes swung from Clark to the door and back again.

"You should get that," he said.

She opened the door.

Claude was there, dressed in an expensive shirt, pants of the latest fashion cut, and a flashy scarf befitting his debonair style. He was holding a huge bunch of red roses and a bottle of champagne, and smiling as if he'd just won the lottery.

***

The knock had shattered Clark's hopes. He'd slid his glasses down his nose and looked through Lois's door. He known it was Claude, even before Lois's surprised, squeaky utterance of her date's name.

"Lois," Claude said. "*Ma cherie*. I am here. You have cooked? It smells heavenly." He swaggered into her apartment and swept her into his arms, planting his mouth on hers.

Clark looked away, a quiverful of arrows piercing his heart.

Lois drew back. "You're late," she said with such evenness that it was impossible to gauge her true feelings about Claude's tardiness.

"My sweet Lois," he said. "I was unavoidably detained. You know I'm very busy. And then I stopped to buy roses ..." He held them towards her. "... and champagne -- which had to be of sufficient quality to match the exquisite meal you promised me."

Lois glanced at the bottle, but she didn't take either of Claude's gifts.

"You are upset," Claude said. "I should have called, but that would have taken more time, and I was longing to be with my sweetheart." His hands dropped to his sides, and he looked at Lois with soulful eyes. "I am sorry, my Lois. Please forgive me."

Lois stared steadily at him, silent. Claude's gaze shifted from Lois, and he seemed to notice Clark's presence for the first time.

"Who is this?" he asked, also employing a carefully even tone.

"This is my culinary instructor," Lois informed him.

Surprise, and perhaps relief, flooded Claude's expression as he regarded Clark. "A culinary instructor? So he is about to leave?"

"He's been teaching me how to cook."

Claude gave a hesitant smile. "It smells splendid, *ma cherie*. I cannot wait for us to begin." He took a step closer to Clark. "Thank you for assisting Lois. You may leave now."

Clark looked at Lois, awaiting her instruction. Her attention was fixed on Claude. "Take off your scarf," she said.

"I have been unwell," Claude said. "Would you mind terribly if it remained? It is from Paris. Made of pure silk."

"Take it off."

"Don't be silly, *ma cherie.* It is not important I remove -"

Lois stepped forward and tugged at the scarf, revealing a solitary red welt across Claude's neck. "How did you get that?" she asked.

"A misunderstanding. I merely asked a question, and the woman -"

"Were you at High Spirits? The bar in Seventh Avenue? Were you there tonight?"

"I know that bar. It is one of the best in Metropolis. I can take you there if you -"

"Were you there an hour ago? Did you hit on a brunette who was with her date? Did you get that scratch because you couldn't keep your wandering hands to yourself and the woman you groped didn't take kindly to you forcing your attentions on her?"

Claude's mouth dropped with shock, and he pointed at Clark. "You have been having an affair," he screeched with indignation. "You can cook. Why would you need a cooking teacher? He's your plaything, coming here to take my -"

"Get out!" Lois screamed.

Claude dropped the roses and approached Clark, menacingly poking the bottle in front of Clark's face. "You dirty dog," he said, his words hissing with contempt. "You sneak in here and help yourself to my woman. In France, we do not accept such reprehensible behaviour." He raised the bottle behind his head.

"Claude!" Lois shrieked. "Don't be stupid. You need to leave now."

"I am not leaving until I have taught this dog a lesson," Claude said. "He must realise that my woman is not his to -"

Lois lunged at him. Claude lifted his left hand to fend her away. Clark pushed Claude's arm down, and Claude swung the bottle at Clark's head. Clark fended off the blow and captured both of Claude's arms, holding him still.

Claude kicked out at Clark's legs. "Let me go, you filthy woman-stealing -"

"Get out, Claude!" Lois shrieked. "Get out now."

"I am not leaving until -"

With a swift movement, Clark swung Claude over his shoulder, carried him through the door, and dumped him in the corridor. Lois followed, flinging the bunch of roses at him. "Don't come back," she said to the crumpled heap. "I never want to see you again."

From his position on the floor, Claude pointed at Clark. "You will pay for this," he snarled. "No one touches my woman and -"

Lois slammed the door and leant against it, shaking.

"Are you all right?" Clark asked, standing as close to her as he dared and clenching his fist in an effort to keep from touching her.

She looked up, her eyes wide with shock. "D...did he hurt you?"

"No. I'm -"

"I thought he was going to smash ..." Her expression crumbled, tears flooding her eyes. She covered her face with her hands.

Clark lightly touched her shoulder. She didn't back away. Unable to stop himself, he eased her away from the door and wrapped her in his arms.

Lois tensed a little. Relaxed slightly. Encouraged, he nestled her closer, angry with Claude for having hurt her, but unable to quell his joy that she was willing to allow him, Clark, so close.

He would have liked to hold her forever, but too soon, Lois slipped out of his embrace and turned away.

"Lois?" Clark took a step closer.

"Why do I always get it so wrong?" she cried, spinning around. "I'm an independent, successful woman of the nineties, but I always choose jerks who pretend to be one thing and turn out to be something completely different."

"Being able to see the best in people is an admirable quality," Clark said.

"But I don't!" she fired back. "I see things that aren't there, and I miss the obvious. Like Claude!" She pointed at the door. "How could I miss that he hits on anything in a skirt? How could I have been willing to overlook that he's rude and inconsiderate? How could I have thought ..."

With a sob, she slumped into the sofa.

Clark crouched at her knee. He waited while she stared ahead, her fingers knotting in her lap. He watched her fight for control, understanding both her need for release and her aversion to breaking down in front of someone who was little more than a stranger.

Through sheer willpower, she won the battle and looked directly at him, her eyes glazed with the shield of detachment.

"Thank you for coming and cooking with me," she said in a cool voice. "I think it would be best if you left now."

Part 6

Clark hadn't moved. He was still perched at her knee, his hand on the sofa cushion.

Embarrassment flooded through Lois like a swollen river contaminated with slicks of self-disgust. For Clark to know she had been stood up was humiliating enough. For him to witness Claude's appalling behaviour and disrespectful attitudes was infinitely worse.

Lois couldn't look at Clark. If she did, she knew she would see his sympathy and her churning emotions would crash through her tenuous grip on control.

As soon as he left, she would bolt to her bedroom and surrender to the storm of her tears, but for now ...

Clark still hadn't moved. "Please," Lois said, despising the quiver in her voice. "Please go now."

"I would like to stay," he said.

Five minutes ago, she had been imploring him to do just that.

How could she have been so impulsive after everything that had happened?

Hadn't she learned anything? Tomorrow always came, and it always brought disillusionment and heartache. The more wonderful a man seemed, the greater her hope, and the more devastating her disappointment.

Clark Kent ... well, that would hurt more than anything had before, and Lois wasn't going to risk that. "I can't do this," she mumbled, addressing the tense air around them. "Not anymore."

"Do what?"

"Dating. The whole relationship thing. I'm so inept at choosing someone to be with that it's a certain disaster from the beginning. And when it happens ..." She gulped, trying to smother a sob.

"Then don't choose," Clark said.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't choose."

"Don't choose what?"

"Don't choose a guy."

"So you agree?" she said coldly. "I should stay single for the rest of my life?"

"You should let me choose."

"You think I should let you choose a man for me to date?" she demanded dubiously.

Clark's smile flickered. "Actually, I was thinking you should let me choose the woman for me to date."

His meaning billowed like a summer breeze, eroding the sodden heaviness from around her heart. "Do you have someone in mind?" she asked.

He gathered her hand between his. "You."

Tiny tremors capered across her heart. "You want to choose me as your ..."

"Yes."

His affirmation came with soft certainty. His touch on her hand warmed her skin. "Your what?"

"Let's start with this evening," Clark said. "Let's eat the meal we cooked and enjoy each other's company."

One evening would be worse than having never met him. She would always be tormented by what might have been. "You're backing away," she said, rekindling her embarrassment and using it to harden her tone.

"No. No, I'm not."

"It sounds like you are."

"Lois ..." He released a gush of air. "I don't want to scare you away by being too intense."

She stared at where her hand disappeared into the folds of his fingers. "Do you think this ... us ... you and me ... might have a future?"

"I'm sure of it."

His quiet confidence snuggled into her heart as if it had belonged there all along, staring down her doubts.

Clark straightened, gently tugging her to her feet. "Let's eat, shall we?" he said. "The food is ready."

Apparently, he was staying.

It was Valentine's Day.

And Lois was sharing it with a man who was an enthralling package of gentle sincerity, patience, and good humour, all neatly bundled in a flaming hot body and topped with a six-star smile.

"Would you mind if I spent a few moments tidying up?" Lois said. "I'm sure my mascara must be smudged."

"It's not," he said. "But you go and check. I'll serve up the food."

"Thanks," she said, hoping he would discern that her gratitude covered so much more than a chance to gather her composure and fix her makeup. "I won't be long."

Clark let her hand slide slowly from his grasp. "I'll be waiting for you," he said.

***

Lois peered into the mirror. Her eyes were a little red, but her makeup was undamaged. She drew back from the mirror for a full-length perusal.

The dress suited her, emphasising all the right places.

But she'd worn it -- twice -- for Claude, and that tainted it. She turned away from the mirror and advanced on her closet, hoping something would jump out at her.

Surprisingly, it did.

It was the outfit she'd bought for her cousin's wedding last fall. Worn once, deep burgundy in colour, and with a neckline that suggested, rather than flaunted, her bust -- it was exactly right for a date with Clark Kent.

She quickly changed her dress and shoes, re-assessed her image, smiled, and then frowned.

Was she going to be able to banish all remnants of Claude's memory from whatever might be possible with Clark? Or would it always be wedged between them -- the knowledge that they had met because she'd been so desperate to impress a man unworthy of her efforts?

She had behaved like a schoolgirl -- a naive, immature schoolgirl, reduced to mush by the superficial charm of a man whose character had less substance than fog.

There was no valid excuse for her blindness, but she needed to try to explain.

With a final glance in the mirror to boost her confidence, Lois opened the bedroom door and stepped forward.

Clark was standing next to the table. He turned. His mouth fell open. He dragged it shut and swallowed. "Lois," he said, awe weaving through his voice. He shook his head as he glided towards her. "Wow."

She smiled. "I didn't want to wear the dress I'd worn for Claude."

"You looked great in the black dress," he said. "Now ..." His pause sizzled with appreciation.

"I want to forget Claude," Lois said. "I want to forget everything that happened while he was here."

"It's forgotten. He's not important."

"Are you concerned he will follow up on his threats? I don't want him to hurt you."

"He won't," Clark said. "There's nothing to worry about."

He seemed sure. Lois gave herself a moment to skim over his broad shoulders and remember how easily he had ejected Claude from her apartment. "If you have any questions, would you mind asking them now so we can move on?"

"How did you know about his neck?"

"My sister called. He hit on her at High Spirits and then assaulted another woman, who swung at him and scratched his neck."

"Did Lucy know it was Claude?"

"Not definitely. She knew his name and nationality and put the pieces together." Lois groaned. "I didn't believe her."

"His accent is French."

"That's because he was born and raised in Paris."

"You said he is Italian."

"No, I said -" Lois stopped and covered her mouth. "I did, didn't I?"

"Yes."

Her mistake provided some release, and Lois burst out laughing. "I told Claude a sexy Italian chef had taught me how to cook." She'd gotten that two-thirds right. "I must have been concentrating on the butter chicken."

"It's not important now," Clark said. He gestured towards the table. "We should eat before it gets cold."

Lois grasped his arm. "Claude and me ... it was three weeks, a whirlwind of parties with glamorous people, a lot of hours spent listening to him preen, and very little else. I don't think he ever saw me as more than a bit of fun on the side." That sounded as if she had succumbed entirely. "I ... I didn't sleep with him."

A muscle twitched in Clark's cheek. "That's ... that's not my business."

"I thought ... hoped ... I wanted to believe." Lois still wanted to believe. But not about Claude. "I wanted him to be the right one," she said. "I wanted it so much that I ignored my gut and acted like a fool."

"Was there something about him specifically?"

Lois shook her head as she searched for truth in the layers of emotion buried deep inside. "I wanted to believe there is a man for me," she admitted.

"There is a man for you," Clark said gravely.

Her eyes shot into his. His gaze didn't waver. Her heart rollicked around her chest as hope and disbelief jousted for supremacy.

"Let's eat, shall we?" Clark said.

"OK."

As Lois moved forward, Clark placed a gentle hand on her back, radiating the warmth of his presence through her body. The few yards they travelled across the room seemed representative of so much more ... a new beginning, a sparkling dawn to a day that stretched before them with glorious promise.

They arrived at the table, and he pulled out her chair.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome." He waited until she was settled before sitting down himself. He opened the bottle of white wine and poured two glasses. "What are we drinking to?"

She pondered for a moment. "Cooking classes?"

He nodded in smiling agreement, lifting his glass towards hers. "To cooking classes."

Their glass clinked. Their eyes locked. Time faded away, subordinate to the compelling lure of possibility.

Then, as if remembering that cooking led to dining, Clark broke away and passed her the bowl of rice.

"Ready to try it?" he asked when their plates were laden with food.

"Yes." Lois speared a piece of chicken, swept it through the sauce, and lifted it to her mouth.

The taste pulsed across her tongue, setting off tiny explosions.

She chewed slowly, attempting to differentiate each individual facet of the whole. "Wow," she said. "This is good."

"Food always tastes better when you cook it yourself," Clark said.

Perhaps he was right, Lois mused as she took another mouthful of the rice and chicken. Cooking had been fun. She'd enjoyed the laughter and camaraderie that had accompanied the skills and techniques.

The jovial atmosphere had been lost when she'd gone into her bedroom to prepare for Claude's arrival.

She wanted it back. She took another mouthful, chewed and swallowed, and then paused, pretending to consider. "I'm still not sure about this recipe being romantic, though," she said.

Clark's quick grin was exactly the response she'd sought. "Really?" he said. "The soft, creamy texture combining with the fiery heat of the spices -- I think that's very romantic."

Lois wondered if Clark realised he could have been describing them -- he was the soft and creamy, she was the fiery heat. "Food isn't romantic," she said. "Unless it's chocolate."

His smile turned secretive, probably in reference to the little chocolate mounds he had stashed away in the fridge. "What do you think is romantic, Ms Lane?" he asked.

She sipped from the wine, taking time to consider her reply. "I think rescuing a lady from vindictive garlic is very romantic."

His grin exploded, warming her in its aura. "Anything else?"

"A culinary instructor hanging around for half an hour after he was supposed to leave."

Clark grimaced. "Sorry. I wasn't stalking you."

"What were you doing?"

His eyes dived to the table, and he poked at a piece of tomato with his fork. "I wanted to see Claude."

"Why? Would you have said anything to him?"

"No," Clark said, looking up. "I just ... I just wanted to see him. I didn't want to leave until ..."

"What?"

"I wanted to see for myself ... Evidence ..."

"Of what?"

"That he realised he was the luckiest man on the planet."

Lois tried to contain the smile that wanted to scurry all over her face. "I don't think Claude would consider himself the luckiest man on the planet now," she said.

"He's not anymore," Clark said cheerfully.

"Who is now?"

He laughed at her question. "Can't you work it out?"

"I'd like you to tell me."

"I am."

"Why?"

"Because it's Valentine's Day and I'm with Lois Lane."

Lois searched his soft brown eyes for signs of flippancy or glibness, but found only candid transparency. She pointed her fork at him. "*That* was romantic," she said. "The chicken -- no."

He shrugged with good-natured acquiescence.

"What about the dessert you made?" Lois asked. "Do you think they're romantic?"

"Did you see them?"

"Yes. And smelled them. They're chocolate, right?"

"Yes."

"What are they called?"

Clark hesitated for a moment. Then, with a bashful smile that liquefied a significant portion of her muscle mass, he said, "They're chocolate kisses."

"Kisses?" Lois squeaked.

He nodded, colouring slightly. "Before I came, I thought they would be appropriate for Valentine's Day. But then I met you, and ..."

She waited.

"... and they didn't seem such a good idea, anymore."

"As things turned out, they're perfect."

"You like chocolate?" he asked.

"It's my favourite food."

His smile came with soft satisfaction. "That's good."

Unable to resist, Lois asked, "You're not going to ask if I like kisses?"

Clark cleared his throat. "No," he said. "I'm not going to ask that."

"Pity," she said.

"Would I like the answer?"

"Depends on whether you like kisses or not."

He spread his hand across his chin as amusement glistened in his eyes and his mouth toyed with a smile.

And Lois decided that Clark Kent would not be leaving her apartment before she'd had the chance to discover if his mouth could kiss as alluringly as it could smile.

He picked up his fork again and resumed eating. "How's the heat level?" he asked. "Not too hot?"

"The chicken? Or the kisses?"

His moment of surprise gave way to a wide grin. "The chicken."

She looked down at her plate, taking a moment to acknowledge the results of their efforts. "It's incredible, Clark," she said. "Better than anything I've had in a restaurant."

"Good."

If she was going to kiss him -- and she was -- this was going to get serious, and if it got serious, there were things she wanted to know.

"Would you mind if I asked you some questions?" Lois asked.

"Go ahead," he said easily.

"How many girlfriends have you had?"

"Two."

"At different times?"

"Yes. One in high school. One in college."

"Did you ever cheat on them?"

"No."

"Did you ever kiss another woman while you were dating them?"

"On the lips? No. On the cheek? Yes. My mom."

Lois smiled because -- inexplicably -- she believed him.

He was delicious on the outside, but charm and good looks often camouflaged an arrogant and devious personality. In Clark Kent, she'd seen no trace of guile. He'd told her he'd given up his job because it conflicted with his principles. He could be lying, of course, but it would be easy to check the facts.

She wanted to know more about him, but -- unusually for her -- she was driven by interest, not the chance to uncover dirt. "Tell me about your parents," she said. "Do you have brothers or sisters?"

"No. I'm an only child," he said. "And my parents are wonderful people."

If there had been a twinge of sadness in the first statement, it had been dissolved in the love and affection of his second.

"I would like to meet them," Lois said.

"They would love that."

"Do they live in Kansas?"

"Yes. Smallville."

Lois chuckled. "Smallville? Is that a comment on its size?"

"No. Its founder."

"Do you miss your folks? Your hometown?"

"I go back regularly and visit." He topped up her wine glass. "Is Lucy your only sibling?"

"Yes." Deciding to answer before he asked, she continued with, "My parents are divorced. It's difficult."

"I'm sorry," he said with more understanding than she would have expected from a man raised in an idyllic family.

"Tell me about some of the places you've travelled," she said.

Clark accepted the shift away from her family and told her stories of far-away countries. He was never the focus of his tales; instead, they were filled with his fascination for, and appreciation of, other cultures and people.

They moved from his travels to hers, and from there, to favourite movies and books.

When Lois next checked the time, she was surprised to discover it was almost ten o'clock. "Would you like coffee?"

"Yes, I would," Clark said. "But it's getting late. You probably have an early start tomorrow."

"I'd like coffee," Lois said. "And I still haven't tried your kisses."

This time, he didn't baulk. "You will."

His words fizzed across the table like shaken soda. "Is that a promise, Mr Kent?"

"Yep."

"I'll hold you to that."

The moment expanded, holding them captive in the strength of its implication. Clark picked up the napkin and wiped his mouth. "We should get the coffee."

"I'll make it," Lois said, glad that her reliance on regular doses of caffeine as she worked on stories in the evenings had made efficiency a necessity.

"I'll see to this," he said, rising from the table and beginning to clear the plates from the table.

Lois went to the coffee machine, glad that it didn't require much of her attention, leaving her free to watch Clark as he moved between the table and the kitchen.

He looked as if he belonged here.

Perhaps he did.

He took the plate of chocolate kisses from the fridge and removed the plastic wrap.

Lois inhaled deeply, embracing the sweet scent of chocolate as one welcomes a friend.

But this time, it wasn't enough.

Oh, she wanted kisses. But not chocolate ones.

Part 7

Clark's thoughts were buzzing as he finished clearing away the meal.

The evening had surpassed his most lofty hopes. Lois was the best of his dreams made real. Everything about her enchanted him. Her beauty. Her laugh. Her femininity. Her smile. Her intelligence. Her fire. Her enthusiasm.

The way her dark hair swung on her shoulders.

The way his heart trembled every time their eyes met.

The way she'd allowed him to see the little nub of vulnerability hidden under her smart, competent exterior.

And every time she'd teased him about the kisses ...

The first time had been a shock. The second time, just as staggering. The third time, he'd been ready and had played along, promising she would sample his kisses.

He was trying to protect himself from crushing disappointment, but his mind kept drifting back to their words and then catapulting forward to imagine the moment when he might take her into his arms and seal their evening with a kiss.

But he couldn't think about that now. He had a more important mission to accomplish. He had to turn their earlier abstract speculation into the concrete promise of a date.

He took the plate of kisses to the coffee table near the sofa and turned to wait for Lois to finish preparing the coffee. From behind, she was stunning ... long sleek legs, rising to perfectly rounded hips, a tiny waist, and exquisite shoulders, adorned with the sheet of her dark hair.

He wished their bond were such that Lois would welcome him stepping up to her, placing his hands on her hips, and nuzzling kisses into her neck.

He pushed his hands into his pockets and casually said, "You think, maybe, you might want to cook again?"

"That depends," she said, turning from her coffee preparations with a smile that lit up the room.

"On what?"

"I don't think I'm ready to make a solo attempt," she said, "so I would need a culinary instructor."

"I'm available," he said quickly.

Lois giggled. "That's very kind of you, Clark, but I need to taste your chocolate kisses first." She left the coffee machine and came to him, her beautiful eyes glistening with fun. "You haven't quite established your credentials as a cooking instructor yet."

"The chicken didn't do it for you?" Clark asked.

She brushed her hand down the sleeve of his jacket. "Not quite."

"So our entire future association rests on the chocolate kisses?"

She grinned, her eyes twinkling. "That's fair, isn't it? I mean, you came highly recommended by Mrs Spangher, so I'm sure your kisses won't disappoint."

That spurred him to action.

"Lois?" he said, hooking his smallest finger into hers where her hand hung by her side.

"Yes?"

"Would you go out with me? On a date?"

Her fingers closed around his. "Do I have a choice?"

"Of course you -"

"You said you were going to choose."

He chuckled with relief. "I have chosen you," he said. "But you are free to accept or reject my choice."

"What happens if I accept it?"

"We have a date," Clark said.

She smiled, soft like sun rays on a spring morning. "And if I don't accept?"

"I don't even want to think about that," he said, trying to match her lightly teasing tone.

She slid from his grasp and brought the cups of coffee to the table, setting them next to the plate of kisses. She didn't sit down, but turned to him. Seriousness had clouded her demeanour, dimming her smile and loading her eyes with questions. "Why do you want to go out with me?"

"Because I've already walked out of your apartment once, thinking it would be the last time. I never want to do that again."

"Never?"

"Never."

"That's a long time," she noted.

"It won't be long enough."

She gasped. She eyed him, her expression teeming with indecision. "We've spent one evening together, Clark. Just a few hours."

"Time is irrelevant," he said. "The moment you opened the door, I felt ... *something*. The chain was still attached and I could only see about a third of you, but it was enough."

"Seriously?"

"Yes! I knew of Lois Lane before today. I'd read your work and been really impressed. But this isn't about Lois Lane, the reporter. This is about Lois Lane, the woman."

She inched a little closer to him and looked up at him with eyes that melted his heart. "I'm scared, Clark," she said. "I've never felt like this before."

"Please don't have doubts, Lois," he said. "This ... us ... it's going to be different from all the others. I promise you that." He ran a light finger across the silky skin of her cheek. "I've never felt like this before, either. I know ..."

"What?"

"I know I want to be with you -- only you -- for the rest of my life."

"That's how I feel," she said, causing his heart to leap. "But how can I know? How can I trust myself?" She laid her fingertips on the lapel of his jacket. "How can I trust you?"

"What worries you the most?"

"That what I'm feeling isn't real. That it won't last. That you're not really the person I think you are."

"I won't -"

"Clark." Her hand slid up to his shoulder. "I'm not saying you're unworthy of my trust. I'm just ..." Her grip tightened. "... terrified that I'll make it more than it is and be disappointed when it's not."

"That's not possi-"

"Did you really leave the Star because of the Port Authority story?"

"Yes."

"Are you still hoping to work as a reporter in Metropolis?"

"Yes."

"At the Planet?"

"Of course, I would like to," Clark said. "It's the leading newspaper in the United States. But if you think we couldn't work together and I have to choose between dating you and getting a job at the Daily Planet, I wouldn't accept a position even if Mr White offered one."

"You'd give up your dream?"

"No. Never. Not the dream that is most important to me."

"Which is?"

"To marry a woman I will love forever. To make her happy. To be with her always, sharing everything."

"That's what you want?"

"More than anything."

A reluctant smile arose from the debris of her uneasiness. "You are very romantic, Mr Kent."

He placed a light hand on her hip. "More romantic than my butter chicken?"

"Definitely." She reached up and linked her hands behind his neck. "I have a feeling your chocolate kisses might pale in comparison with the real thing, too."

Her closeness infused him with scintillating boldness. "Want to find out?"

She inched closer, her mouth upturned in unequivocal invitation. Her eyes lingered in his and then slid shut. Clark rested his fingers on her neck, not quite able to believe what was about to happen.

Time stopped as the distance separating them slowly melted to nothing and his lips finally joined with hers.

***

Kissing Clark was like nothing Lois had ever experienced before. The light touch of his fingertips burned spots of fire on her neck. His lips massaged hers, tasting and exploring, his unique blend of reverence and fervour luring her to intoxicating abandonment.

In his arms, she felt safe.

In his kiss, she felt wondrously feminine.

She'd found him.

The man who completed her.

His mouth eased away, curving to a dreamy smile. "Your kisses are sweeter than chocolate," he murmured.

"Your kisses are more romantic than butter chicken."

He grinned. "I think you are being unfair to my butter chicken."

"My apologies," she said through a chuckle. "You can make butter chicken for me whenever you want."

"Whenever?"

She nodded.

"Tomorrow night?"

"Don't you have a class?"

"No."

"I doubt I'll be finished until almost eight."

"That's fine," he said. "I can prepare the food at my apartment and bring it over when you're ready. Or you can come straight to my home from the office."

"Are you serious about making butter chicken again?"

"Not if you want something else. We can have anything you choose." He swept a few strands of her hair from her temple. "I'm sure you can think of something romantic."

"I can choose anything?"

"Of course. Just tell me -"

"I choose you." Lois reached up and took possession of his mouth again as, just a few yards away, the coffee grew cold, and the chocolate kisses waited, forgotten.

Epilogue

Lois Lane was humming as she tidied her desk and shut down her computer.

Tonight was the night.

She was sure of it.

Clark was going to propose.

Even more earth-shattering ... she was going to accept.

OK, she was guessing the first, but hey, Clark been open about what he wanted right from the first evening -- that incredible, never-to-be-forgotten cooking class when the chocolate kisses had been the second best thing on the dessert menu.

Lois felt as if her feet were floating as she hurried to her apartment. Her excitement built as she followed her strict pre-date routine -- perfume behind her knee, rollers in her hair, new dress that she'd bought just for this occasion, extra care with her lipstick.

Had he already bought the ring? Or had he decided to wait so they could choose it together?

Would a proposal and subsequent acceptance lead to them taking the evening into his bedroom and consummating their promises?

*That* was an exciting prospect. Their rather steamy kisses had been a heady foretaste of intimacy with Clark. She was ready -- impatient, even -- to take the next step.

But, as much as he'd seemed to relish kissing her, he had always been careful to stop before they crossed the point of no return. With any other man, Lois might have questioned if he were really interested, but as she'd come to know Clark Kent, she'd realised that his caution was not a statement about her desirability, but the logical extension of his belief that making love was too special to be entered into lightly.

Clark hadn't actually admitted it, but Lois had wondered if he were a virgin.

Not through lack of opportunity. Obviously.

If -- *when -- *Clark took her to his bed, they would both know it meant something.

Something real. Something lasting. Something strong. Something dependable.

Something you could build your whole life on.

And that's exactly what Lois Lane intended to do.

Accept Clark's proposal ... make him hers if he gave even the slightest hint he was ready for that ... marry him ...

And live happily ever after.

***

Clark opened the door, and Lois's breath caught in her throat. The first sight of him never failed to dry her mouth and accelerate her pulse.

He smiled -- which accentuated everything to levels that made her sure the oxygen was being syphoned from her lungs.

"Hi, honey," he said.

She stepped into his arms, and he kissed her.

Thoroughly. Lovingly.

But restrained, as he always was.

When he drew away, Lois stifled her sigh and promised herself that by the end of the evening, she would either be in Clark's bed or they would have decided on a -- very near – wedding date.

"Come on in," Clark said, closing the door behind her. He stood on the little landing and indulged in a long, slow, sensual sweep, his face so etched with appreciation that Lois could *feel* the touch of his eyes as clearly as if his hands had been wandering across her body. "You're so beautiful, Lois," he murmured.

"Thank you." Needing a reprieve from the intense onslaught of attraction, she inhaled deeply and said, "Wow! Something smells incredible."

Clark seemed pleased that she'd noticed. "Care to guess what I'm cooking for you?" he asked as they moved down the stairs and towards his kitchen.

Lois stretched onto her toes, but Clark's broad shoulders blocked her view.

"No cheating," he said with another pearler of a smile.

Lois inhaled again. She recognised it ... yes ... it was ... "Bacon!"

His eyebrow arched, and his smile flashed. "You can smell bacon?"

She sniffed. "Yes. It's bacon. I'm sure of it."

His smile was slightly satisfied and wholly mysterious. Was bacon a part of the surprise? How could a man use bacon to facilitate a marriage proposal? With Clark, it was possible ... he thought butter chicken was romantic.

"I love bacon," Lois said enthusiastically. "What do we have? Maple bacon? Filet mignon? I know!" She gave an excited little jump. "You made that asparagus and bacon frittata that I loved so much."

"No," Clark said with an apologetic shrug. "Sorry."

Lois gripped his arm lightly. "You know I love anything you cook, don't you?"

Clark's nod was unconvincing; nervousness had clouded his brown eyes. "Take a seat," he said, indicating the little table set for two in the corner. "It's ready."

As Lois sat, she searched for clues. The table gave her nothing. In fact, it was disappointingly bare. There were two places set, but there were no decorations, no posy of flowers, nothing to indicate that it was to be the setting for the most momentous evening of their lives.

In the kitchen, Clark wasn't moving. "Is everything all right?" Lois asked.

"Yes," he said, but it didn't sound all right.

"Have you burned the bacon?" Lois said. "It's OK; I like it crispy."

"No. It's not burned."

"Is there anything I can do?" Lois asked, adding a jittery giggle at the absurdity of her offering him assistance.

"No. Stay there. I'll bring it over."

Lois watched Clark's back as he moved a pan from the stove. Frustratingly, he managed to keep his body between her and his task, so she was able to glean any hints. Perhaps he was going to serve her bacon topped with an engagement ring.

"OK," he said, still turned away. "Close your eyes, and I'll bring it over."

Lois closed her eyes, hauling in a big breath to steady herself. The aroma of bacon was strong.

She heard Clark place a plate before her, and then the chair scraped on the floor as he sat down.

For a moment, he said nothing, and the silence crackled with tension.

"It's going to be OK, Clark," Lois said.

"I hope so," he said, his voice tight.

"Can I open my eyes?"

"Yes."

She opened her eyes and gasped.

Her plate contained only a small pile of dark grains -- not a strip of bacon in sight. "What's *this*?" she asked.

"It's black rice."

Lois looked up from the plate. "Where's the bacon?"

"There is no bacon."

"But I smelled -"

"There's no bacon anywhere in the apartment. What you could smell was black rice."

Lois leaned forward and sniffed at the mound of dark grains. There was a definite whiff of bacon. "That's weird," she said.

"Have a taste," Clark said.

She picked up the fork, swept a few grains onto it, and put them gingerly to her mouth.

It tasted all right. A little bland, but she assumed it was supposed to be eaten with meat and vegetables and a tasty sauce.

She glanced across to the kitchen. There were no other pans on the stove. No evidence of any other food. No bottles of drink. No champagne.

"Do you like it?" Clark asked, sounding as if he were hanging on her reply.

Lois scooped up another forkful -- more this time -- and put it in her mouth.

"Yes," she said after she'd swallowed. "It's nice." That was overstating it by a fair amount, but Clark seemed keen for her to like it, so like it she would. She quickly shovelled in some more, trying to hide her disappointment that the hoped-for ring seemed to have devolved into a small mound of black rice.

"You don't have to eat it," Clark said.

She placed the fork on the plate and looked at him squarely. "I don't understand what's happening here."

"No. I guess you don't." Clark's hand was on the table, his fingers curled a few degrees, lifting his palm. His little finger was twitching.

"Clark," Lois said. "Whatever this is ... it's OK."

He looked around, as he'd suddenly lost his bearings. "I ..."

"Why black rice?" she said. The answer came in a flash of inspiration. "Oh, Clark, why didn't you say something? All this cooking for me. Such a lot of food. You've fed me almost every night for weeks. I'm sure you don't earn much from a couple of cooking classes. When you start your probation at the Planet -"

"It's not -" He swallowed. "It's not the money, Lois."

"Then what is it?"

His fingers tapped the table. "There is something I have to tell you."

That wasn't good. She'd been hoping he had been planning to ask her something. But *tell* her something? "OK."

He chuckled, tight and grim. "The rice was supposed to make it easier."

"Really?" Her question leapt with surprise.

"Really," he said glumly. "But now I realise it was a lame idea."

"What are you trying to tell me, Clark?"

"When you walked in, you thought I was cooking bacon, right?"

"Yes."

"And you like bacon?"

"Yes."

"So when you opened your eyes and saw it was rice, you probably felt some initial disappointment. Shock even."

"The rice was good," Lois said hesitantly.

"It wasn't quite what you thought it was, but it was still good?" Clark said. "And you enjoyed it, even though it's not bacon?"

Feeling flustered by Clark's edginess, Lois lurched from the table. Clark jumped up, too, and stood facing her, his hands buried deep in his pockets.

"I'm sorry, Lois," he breathed. "I've made a complete mess of this."

"You're trying to tell me that something isn't what I thought it was," Lois said, her words coming slowly as she tried to draw some smattering of comprehension from the muddle of half-thoughts and questions gnawing through her mind. "Is that it?"

"Yes," he said, looking relieved for a moment. "I was hoping to demonstrate that even though the rice wasn't exactly what you thought it was, perhaps it can still be good. Different. But still good."

The penny dropped with a loud crash, shattering her hopes and dreams. "You're trying to tell me you're not the man I thought you were?"

"Yes! No!" His hands rose in emphasis. "I am. I am that person. Just ... there's something else."

"What?" she demanded harshly. Then, "You've met someone else?"

"No! No. I want to be with you. That hasn't changed. That will never change."

"You made a mistake? Is that what this is about? You slept with the cute blonde in your cooking class?"

Clark's face scrunched a little. "What cute blonde? There isn't a cute blonde. And I certainly didn't -"

Lois's patience snapped. "Just tell me what you did, Clark."

"It's not what I did." His hands retreated into his pockets. "Not exactly. It's what I am."

"Oh, great," Lois said, throwing her hands into the air. "You're a murderer. A criminal. A wanted man. A cheat. A fraud. A charlatan. An imposter. A -"

"No!"

Lois closed her mouth over the gush of accusation, pinning him with a cold look that demanded nothing less than a complete explanation.

"I'm an alien."

Clark's announcement squeezed her lungs, and the air spurted from her mouth with grim laughter. "Oh, right," she said, heavy with sarcasm. "You're from Mars."

"No. Krypton."

"Krypton! Don't be ridiculous, Clark. That isn't even a planet."

"Not in our solar system," he said quietly. "But it is ... or was ... a planet, and I was born there."

If the charade with the rice had been meant to enlighten her, it had achieved that. She now understood that Clark Kent was delusional.

"I've never told anyone before," he said miserably. "My parents know. It's a secret we've kept for nearly thirty years."

Lois thought of Jonathan and Martha Kent -- the lovely couple she had met when Clark had taken her to Kansas. "Your parents are aliens?" she said, brittle with disbelief.

He flinched. "No. They're human. My real parents knew our planet was going to explode. They put me in spaceship and sent me to Earth. My parents -- the Kents -- found me and raised me as their son."

"You said you came to Metropolis, hoping to be a reporter?" Lois asked coldly.

Clark nodded.

"Bad idea," she fired at him. "You should be a fiction writer. With this sort of ability for backstory ... wow, you could write a bestseller."

"It's true."

"Clark." She took a step closer to him, but stopped short of making contact. "An active imagination is a wonderful thing. But it needs to stay within the pages of a book. You *write *about characters. You don't pretend to become them."

"I'm not pretending," he said.

"Prove it. Show me your birth certificate. Although it wouldn't be too hard to forge an alien birth certificate. They probably sell them at carnival sideshows."

"I don't have a birth certificate from Krypton," he said. "But I can prove that what I'm saying is the truth."

"Really?"

"What would you like me to do?"

Lois folded her arms over her chest. "What can you do?" she said. "Other than cook black rice that smells like bacon."

"All black rice smells like bacon."

Lois glared at him.

Clark shuffled uncomfortably. "I can fly," he mumbled to his feet.

"Fly?"

"Yes." He looked up at her. "I can fly."

"Like a bird?"

"Faster. More like -"

Lois stomped her foot on the floor. "Stop it, Clark!" she said, close to tears now. "Stop this stupidity. I've had enough of aliens and planets and flying." She dragged in a wobbly breath. "I thought you were going to propose to me tonight. I thought this was the night when we were going to promise to be together forever. Instead, you give me black rice and an absurd story about ..."

Clark withdrew his hand from his pocket and stretched it towards her, palm up.

He held a ring box.

"You can't be serious," she breathed.

"I am," he said. "I want to ask you to marry me. But I couldn't do it until I'd told you the truth."

"Clark," she said bleakly. "It isn't the truth. Somehow ... something went wrong and you ended up believing something that isn't possible."

"I can fly," he stated.

His body lifted.

Her eyes dropped.

His feet were dangling half a yard above the floor.

"Cl..."

He dropped lightly back to the floor and stepped closer to her. "I love you, Lois," he said. "I want to marry you. I am the man you've come to know these past weeks. But there's a part of me I've kept hidden from everyone except my parents. I wanted you to know. I wanted you to know before you decide whether you are willing to spend your life with me."

The reporter part of her wriggled out from under the mound of shock and shook off some dust. "Is it just the flying?"

"No."

"No?" Her voice had shrilled again. She gathered her composure and said, "What else?"

"I can see through solid objects. Not all the time. I can turn it on and off."

"You can see through clothes?"

"Yes. But I don't look. I'm very careful."

"What else?"

"I can hear small sounds from a long distance. I can zoom in on things a long way away."

Lois marched into his bedroom. Once shielded by the wall, she said, "What am I doing?"

Clark gave a grunt that could have held a dash of dark humour.

"Well?" she demanded.

"You're poking out your tongue."

Lois retracted her tongue and moved back into his sight. She marched up to him and put her hands on his chest, pushing him back against the window. Picking up today's copy of the Daily Planet, she stormed up the stairs, opened up the Death Notices, and held it up. "Read the fourth one from the top," she instructed.

Clark pushed his glasses down his nose. "Bailey, nee Campbell, Ava Elizabeth, born 22nd of December, 1901, died -"

Lois turned the paper around, found the fourth notice from the top, and read.

She hastily closed the paper and tossed it onto the couch as the moved in on Clark. "Anything else?" she demanded, her hands braced on her hips.

"I can heat things with my eyes and freeze them with my breath."

Lois pointed to the forlorn remnants of black rice. "It'll be cold by now."

Clark slid his glasses down again and stared at the plate. A few seconds later, wisps of steam rose with placid indifference to the acknowledged fact that merely looking at something could not induce heat.

Although ... Clark's looks had had that affect on her more than once.

"I'm invulnerable," he said. "In body."

"Invulnerable?"

"I can't be hurt. Bullets bounce off me."

Lois scowled at him. "That's not fair," she said. "You know I won't test that."

"You could," he said mildly. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"It'd be just my luck that the bullet would bounce off you and get me," she groused.

"No, it wouldn't."

She shot him a questioning frown.

"I'd catch it before it hurt you," he explained.

"You can catch bullets?" she asked, aware that intrigue was overshadowing her scepticism.

"Yes. I can move really fast. And I'm very strong."

"How many pounds can you lift? Two hundred? Three hundred?"

"I can lift a train." He stared at his feet for a moment, his shoulders curled in dejection. "I've never found anything so heavy that I can't lift it."

If even a skerrick of this were true, it was the biggest story of all time. "Is everyone from your planet the same?" Lois asked. "How many of these super-humans are here?"

"I'm the only one," Clark said. "Everyone else died."

The sadness of his statement dissolved a large chunk of disbelief from her heart.

Lois thrust everything else aside and stared at Clark ... captured his eyes ... the eyes of the man she had come to know.

Come to love.

The man she would always love.

Even if he wasn't exactly as she had thought.

"Do you still want to marry me?" she asked in a brisk, business-like manner.

He sucked in an avalanche of surprise. "More than anything in the world."

"Are you going to propose tonight?"

"I ... I'm not sure. Maybe you should take some time to think about what I've told you."

"You said only you and your parents know this?"

"That's right."

"You do realise this would be the biggest story ever?"

"Yes."

"And I'm a reporter?"

"Yes."

"Are you worried I will take what you've told me and turn it into a Pulitzer?"

"I hope you don't," he said. "I'm hoping that, even if you hate me, you wouldn't do that to my parents."

"Why would I hate you?"

"Because I didn't tell you the truth. And then I did."

His words from a minute ago reverberated across her heart. *I'm invulnerable. In body.*

In his heart, he was just like everyone else. No, that wasn't quite true. He was more vulnerable than everyone else was. Because he was different. Because he could never be completely confident he really belonged on this planet. Because he wasn't human.

Because he feared being alone.

Lois stepped up to him and put a light finger on his sleeve. "Here's the deal," she said.

He nodded, his expression carefully leached of all emotion.

"You take me flying," Lois said. "If you get me back here safely, you are allowed to propose."

Clark's smile unfolded with tantalising slowness. "You want to go flying with me?"

"Can you do that?"

"Easily." He made a jumpy gesture towards her. "I'll have to carry you."

"Is that a problem? You said you could lift a train."

"No. No, it's not a problem. Just ..." He dropped the ring box into his pocket and swept her into his arms. "Ready?"

Figuring this was almost certainly a dream and -- thankfully -- you couldn't die in a dream, no matter how recklessly you behaved, Lois nodded. "I'm ready."

Clark carried her onto the balcony. His arms tightened a few degrees, nestling her against his chest.

Then, the air shot past them, the buildings dropped away, and the inky darkness reached out in welcome.

Lois straightened, scanning the sky. "Clark, this is amazing."

"Yes."

"You're flying," she gasped.

"That's not the most amazing thing happening here." His mouth came close to her ear. "Thank you, Lois. Thank you for trusting me."

She looked into his face, and he smiled, filling her with warm familiarity. She was high above the streets of Metropolis, held in the arms of a man, and she had never felt more safe and secure. She laid her head against his shoulder.

"Warm enough?" he asked.

"Yes." His love would keep her warm always.

"Not scared?"

"No." Nothing could hurt her while she was with Clark.

His mouth brushed against her ear again. "I love you, Lois," he said. "From the moment, I first saw you, I loved you. I want to be with you ... always."

Of course, he loved her. He'd proved his love with the gift of total trust.

Lois reached up and kissed him. "Let's go back," she whispered.

She thought she saw a glimmer of disappointment. "You've have enough of flying?" he said.

"No," she said. "I want to do it again tomorrow. And the next day. And every day after that. But we had a deal."

He smiled. He lowered them gently to the balcony of his apartment. He guided her down his body until she was standing on her feet.

Clark took the ring box from his pocket and opened it. "I will always love you, Lois," he said. "My heart ... my love ... the fact that I want to be with you forever ... I've never tried to hide how I feel about you. Will you marry me?"

Lois put her hand on his wrist, trying to exercise enough patience to take a moment before making her commitment. She used the time to look deep into his eyes, trying to read his soul.

She saw emotions she had never glimpsed before -- isolation, yearning, uncertainty ... and a transparent layer of hope.

And love. Such pure love. Such devoted commitment.

"I'm different," he said. "I know that changes things. I should have given you time to -"

"I've had enough time," she said. "I've known from the start that you are different."

"You couldn't have known *how *different. I mean ... flying ... that's -"

"Perfect. And exactly what I would expect from a man who thinks chicken is romantic."

His smile was a little piece of heaven, melting some of the lonesomeness from his eyes. "Lois Lane, would you do me the incredible honour of being my wife?"

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes. Yes!"

He slid the ring on her finger, and she tumbled into his arms. His mouth met hers, and he kissed her with lavish abandon and bubbly joy.

When they eased apart, both a little breathless, Lois examined the diamond ring on her finger. "It's perfect, Clark," she said.

The tip of his finger brushed down her cheek. "My secret ... It doesn't have to change anything," he said.

"Oh, yes, it does," she corrected.

"It does?"

"It changes everything. It means you are going to be saved from the lifelong ignominy of having fed your wife nothing but a few mouthfuls of black rice on the night you proposed."

He nuzzled against her neck. "Want to go flying again? You can choose anywhere in the world."

Anywhere in the world ...

That was going to take some getting used to.

Lois snuggled further into Clark's chest, clinging to him physically as her mind began cataloguing her new knowledge.

Clark Kent was an alien.

He was the most human person she'd ever met.

He had been born on a faraway planet.

His home was with her.

His capacity to love was as big as the galaxy of stars.

For all that, he was the man who held her heart in his hands and she wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with him. "I feel like ..."

"Yes?"

"Black rice and bacon."

His eyebrow lifted. "Really? We can go anywhere; have anything you choose. That's why I didn't cook. I figured we could fly somewhere nice ... if you hadn't left already."

"I want what I didn't know I had, but without losing what I thought was mine."

"Everything I have ... everything I am ... everything I could be ... it's all for you, Lois."

She believed him. "And for everything you have ... everything you are ... everything you will be ... you have my love and support ... always."

He lifted her chin and kissed her. "Shall we go?" he asked. "See if we can find the best bacon and black rice dish in the world?"

Lois nodded, and with an exuberant grin, her fiance swept her into his strong and loving arms.

As they flew from the balcony, Lois admired her ring again. Clark had proposed. She had accepted. They were going to be married.

"Happy?" he asked.

"Gloriously. I've finally found The One."

"You sound wonderfully sure."

"I am," she declared. "He's perfect. He can cook. He has a great body with muscles in all the right places. He has the best smile. He thinks butter chicken is romantic. And he chose black rice as the dish to accompany his proposal. What more could a woman want?"

"A normal man?"

"Nah," Lois said. "Normal is overrated. Tonight, I realised I could never marry a man who couldn't fly."

His arms tightened around her. "Thank you for accepting me, Lois. All of me."

"You'll never be alone again," she declared. "From now on, you're with me, Clark Kent. And I wouldn't change a thing."

THE END

The following story –

“Countermeasures”

by – Morgana

was Nominated in the:

Best Mid-Length Story

and

Best First Kiss

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Countermeasures

By Morgana

This is an alternative universe story; what were Lois’s thoughts just before her wedding to Lex Luthor? What if Clark came straight to the wedding ceremony as *himself* rather than Superman? No terrible ordeal suffered within the Green Kryptonite cage and no Lois walking down the aisle to an eagerly awaiting Lex.

An awesome trio of betas: Andreia, Bob and KenJ, helped to push this fic from a meager outline to a full-blown story. My hat is off to them! This is my answer to the “I Love You” challenge posted on the message boards.

Legal Disclaimer: Some of the dialogue is from The House of Luthor. The characters and settings are all owned by DC, September 3rd productions and anyone else with legal claim. This is merely a quick little nonprofit story strictly for fun.

***

A vivid and colorful assortment of exotic flowers; catarctarum, ginger rojos and heliconia, lush as a rainforest and as soothing as an ocean breeze, decorated the large, brightly lit room. With wild abandon their heady scents swirled about, trumpeting the day’s meticulously planned events. The orderly debris of wedding preparations were evident; empty shoe boxes, yards of muslin wrappings for the gown were laid on the settee and a discarded red silk robe rested on the bed. The pretty little vanity table held a single vintage perfume bottle containing Chanel No. 5, yet *another* expensive wedding gift from Lex that she neither wanted nor needed.

Only minutes before the master bedroom suite of Lex Luthor had been populated with an entourage of stylists to rival a Hollywood star; nail technicians, makeup artists, and hairstylists. The designer of Lois wedding gown had been flown in from Milan, merely to make sure the bride looked exquisite in his latest frothy creation. Rounding out the group was Greta Keith, the perpetually cheerful wedding coordinator and of course Lucy and her mother, Ellen Lane.

With all the preparations finished, Greta had shooed everyone out, so the Bride could have a moment to herself. She chirped, “My goodness! Mr. Luthor certainly is a lucky man! You will make him the *perfect* wife! ”

Once the heavy wooden door had closed behind her, the room was silent. Despite the cheerful decorations and exquisite floral arrangements, it was a heavy, oppressive silence, broken only by the quiet sniffling sounds of a woman in tears.

Lois stood up from the upholstered bench in front of the vanity table and gazed at the image in the full-length mirror. The woman looking back at her was an absolute stranger, wearing a designer’s lacy wedding gown with what seemed like a thousand tiny pearl buttons arranged like soldiers in a line down her back. She remembered thinking that each button Lucy closed sealed her future all the tighter.

The silk tulle elbow length veil with its pearl embellished edge was created from the lightest fabric, to faintly caress her face like a lover’s kiss, but instead, it felt like an iron mesh shroud weighing on her head.

Lex’s diamond engagement ring was far too large and showy for her taste. Of course it was Lex's ring. Such a grandiose piece of jewelry could never be her ring. It was not at all appropriate for an investigative reporter who moved effortlessly between the strata of Metropolis’ underbelly and its polite upper crust of society. Still, it was suitable for a woman who was about to align herself with one of the wealthiest men on the planet. Lex Luthor’s wealth deemed he was a man of possessions just like this. Was it a foreboding symbol of their pending marriage?

Her lips tugged into a brief, watery smile as she remembered how Lucy had squealed with envy and girlish delight when she clapped eyes upon it for the first time. So typical of her sister, looking at the size of the stone and not considering what machinations was behind it.

Looking again at the image in the mirror, she thought, were these not the normal silken accouterments of a woman on her wedding day? If so, why did she not feel happy and cherished rather than like another shiny new Luthor possession about to be put on public display?

Yesterday, during the rehearsal dinner, Lex had kissed her hand and called her beautiful. Sadly she didn’t feel that way; he had fixed her with the gaze of a hunter keenly studying its prey. No doubt in eager anticipation of their wedding night. Now, hot, salty tears slid down her cheeks, ruining the carefully applied make-up that a highly paid professional had just completed.

“Ten minutes, ‘Mrs. Luthor’.” Greta said, through the wooden door.

Lois took a deep breath, grabbed a handful of tissues from the vanity table and savagely wiped away another cascade of tears. She looked at the reflection in the mirror, feeling sad, lonely and a little afraid.

She turned her gaze back to the stranger in the mirror. “Lois Luthor,” she said. Trying out the last name and discarding it, like a pair of ill-fitting shoes. A pair of *painfully* ill-fitting shoes - the kind that pinched the moment you stepped into them. If you were smart and didn’t let the glossy appearance turn your head, you put them back into the stiff cardboard box.

“Lois Lane-Luthor.” She puffed out the name. The last name was again an awkward fit, settling neither her ears nor her anxious heart. It was a name connected with great wealth and power, but also to vague whispers and distrust.

Out of the blue, a new combination came to mind and she said aloud, “Lois Lane-Kent?” Her disturbed emotions calmed, everything fit like pages in a love letter, perfectly preserved and scented faintly of sweet jasmine, its heady bouquet making even the most tentative of lovers blush. This last name was right, this name meant warmth, laughter and so very much more. Clark, with all his maddening quirks was her best friend, partner and everything else in between. With this revelation before her with such clarity, how could she marry a man who to all intents and purposes, was an absolute stranger?

She shivered with trepidation; Lex was not the kind of man to calmly accept being jilted at the altar. Sadly, it was far too late to make any counter moves.

A firm knock at the door gave her a start. She pulled out more tissues and tried vainly to repair the damage her tears had done.

“I’ll be out in a minute!” Her voice mingled with fear and anger in equal measure.

In response the door gently swung open. When she heard the door move, she whirled around, thinking it was her mother. Probably coming in with the idea of giving her the traditional reassuring Mother/Daughter pre-wedding pep talk - a talk she couldn’t bear to hear.

Instead of the perfectly composed Ellen Lane, standing before her wearing a black polo shirt and charcoal pants and looking better to her than if he were sporting a hand-tailored Armani tuxedo, was the only person she truly wanted to see right then…Clark!

She took a tiny hesitant step in his direction. “You … came … I…” She cried out and then any further words caught in her throat. Lord knows, Clark was a handsome man. But today his appearance was different; he stood tall and strong, like a determined warrior king come to claim his bride. The power emanating from him struck her almost like a physical thing; this power was comfortingly familiar, yet strangely frightening. Was this her gentle friend? Surely he hadn’t come to wish her well? Had he perhaps come like the prince in a fairy tale… to rescue her?

In the hallway, she imagined hearing the sharp, authoritative tones of Perry’s voice somewhere down the corridor and oddly Bill Henderson’s as well. The former was in Florida, supposedly enjoying his retirement and the latter certainly had no reason to be attending her wedding. As she watched, without a word, Clark stepped into the room and quietly – almost reverently - closed the door behind him, shutting out all other sounds. The visage of warrior held for a moment, but was melting away like the morning mist, to be replaced by a gentle prince.

His lips parted, however no words ushered forth. He too was overcome with emotion; the woman he loved with all his heart and soul was adorned in a wedding dress … a wedding dress she was wearing for *another* man. One firm step and then another as he came closer and looked down at her. With infinite care, like he was touching a precious, fragile gem, his hand cupped her cheek and he whispered. “Lois, I had to come. We’ve said some pretty harsh words to each other over the past few months…”

Lois placed a small trembling hand over his, her brown eyes filled with pain and sadness. “I know and I hate fighting with you. I … I’ve missed you so much.”

“So have I. Lois, I came to say…”

Her voice sounded so small and young, “Yes?”

“Please, don’t do this to yourself … to me … to us.” He whispered and then, at the last, his voice broke and the transformation of warrior king into a young prince was complete. He stood entreating one last time for the hand of his lady.

Tears sprang afresh to her eyes and suddenly she didn’t care about the make-up or the designer’s lacy confection of a wedding gown. All she wanted was to be held by the man before her. Words, so many words, kept pushing and moving about in her mind. All of them useless, empty and pale in comparison to the three words this tender, loving man so richly deserved to hear. Simple words, she realized that she had *never* said to her fiancé – even on the night of their engagement.

With measured, purposeful movements, Lois removed the ornate engagement ring from her finger which bound her to another man and stepping away placed it on the vanity table. It was time to face Lex and the wedding guests. Come what may, Clark had given her the strength to take this countermeasure.

She returned to him freely, letting his strong arms enfold her and all of the uncertainty and sadness vanquished from her once aching heart. The words emerged, joyous and clear, “Clark, I love you!”

Looking up at Clark, she knew these words had touched him, like a nurturing balm to his soul. He was shedding tears now, tears of profound relief and rejoicing. What was he thinking? She prayed those simple words had given all the dreams of his life substance and more. Now they had *hope*.

With a little faltering, a questing finger reached up and caressed her cheek once more wiping away tears, this time of joy. The finger moved down to touch her lips. Lois felt his hesitation; after all, only seconds ago she had been engaged to another man. But for once, prudence and convention were cast aside; as he leaned down and tenderly pressed his lips to hers. The kiss held love and deep, abiding ardor, her heart jumped and she felt a happy trill of desire. *Definitely* not the innocent kiss of a friend, but the kiss of a man wishing to be much, much more.

When they separated, he looked deeply into her eyes, his own dark with passion and finally said the words she longed to hear, “Lois, I love you.”

Abruptly, only a few feet beyond the door, they heard the sound of loud voices and running feet. A voice – Lex’s – was heard, angry and defiant. A brief fight broke out, than a body slammed hard against the door. She heard a woman scream, probably Greta Keith thinking she was going to lose her commission. Lois looked at Clark an expression on her face swathed in questions.

Clark explained, “I …I came here with Perry, Jimmy and Jack. We brought along some folks from MPD. Lex, your *ex-fiancé* has committed numerous crimes and the powers that be want to have a few words with him.”

Lois blinked and looked over Clark’s shoulder to the mirror. The image that looked back had been altered; no longer frightened and confused, now the stranger that she'd seen in this same mirror only moments ago had vanished. Standing here with Clark, that other woman - that shiny new possession of Lex's – was forever gone. For the first time in months she was herself. The thrall Lex had held her in had disappeared. The steely, confident investigative reporter had returned. She carefully removed the silky white veil and placed it on the vanity table beside the engagement ring. “Crimes? What sort of crimes? Against whom …?”

“The Daily Planet for one.” Clark’s voice trailed off as he got that familiar faraway look in his eye, as if he were listening for something. His eyes focused once more and he said, “Honey, please let me get you out of here. This place is going to be swarming with police and the media, asking a lot of intrusive questions. Besides,” he said shyly, “we have a *lot* to talk about.”

Clark opened the door wide and she felt his hand lay protectively on the small of her back; it was so familiar, so reassuring! Together they exited into a corridor filled with LexCorp staff and several bewildered wedding guests. They tried to get away only to come face to face with a sullen Lex Luthor, his cut lower lip bleeding profusely, being escorted by taciturn Inspector Henderson. For a moment, a look passed between the three of them as a mosaic of emotions ran across Lex’s face than he said with a touch of the old defiance. “The contest is done. Kent, you have won the prize. I challenge you to prove yourself worthy of her.” With a sense of worn dignity, he looked away.

Bill Henderson nodded to Lois and Clark than led the prisoner away in steel handcuffs. Not far behind stood a grim-faced Perry White rubbing the bruised knuckles on his right hand. “That’s for what you did to The Daily Planet…”

The rest of his words were lost as an ecstatic Lois ran to Perry and engulfed him in a tight hug, following him came Jimmy and Jack; she hugged each of them in turn. These men were her friends and family. It was so good to be among them again rather than an entourage of paid companions! Come what may of the days ahead, she knew they would always be in her life.

The much beloved southern accent reminded her of comfort and security and most of all the deep fatherly love Perry always held for her. “Ah now Darlin’, you mean the world to us. Sorry for getting here at the last minute, we never stopped looking for a way to prove …” His voice trailed off, now was the wrong time and place for explanations and bluster. He turned to Clark and said, “Think you can get Lois away from this mob and safely home? I have to square young Jack with the authorities.” He gave her another hug, and then gallantly handed her back to Clark, the man who orchestrated the downfall of Luthor and was her true rescuer.

Clark smiled, happiness twinkling in his eyes, “I think that can be arranged Chief!” He quietly took command of the situation. Firmly taking her hand in his, with the ease of someone who was quite familiar with the Luthor penthouse, Clark navigated through the gathered throng to the private elevator, leading Lois away from the hollow, artificial life Luthor had so carefully constructed to starting a new life with the man who cherished and loved her above all others.

The End

The following story –

“Encounter in the Woods”

by – Queen of the Capes

was Nominated in the:

Best Short Story

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Encounter in the Woods

By Mary Potts aka Queen of the Capes <queenofthecapes@gmail.com>

Rated G

Submitted March 2013

Summary: A young and distraught Clark Kent meets someone very interesting in the woods one day.

***

He was turning into something. He didn't know what, but the things that had been happening to him lately just weren't normal -- at least, not for anything human. Clark Kent had gotten enough teasing, growing up, just for being adopted; he wasn't sure he could survive becoming some kind of a freak.

Lana would be angry at him for standing her up on Valentine's day, but right now, he just didn't feel up to facing her, or anyone else. He needed to be alone; someplace far away where he couldn't hurt anyone, couldn't accidentally crush them, or see through their clothes, or light them on fire with a careless look. What was next; the power to instantly disintegrate someone by touching them? He was a monster.

He ran on. The open, snow-covered fields gave way to a thicket, which in turn became a forest. He charged through the trees, not stopping. A large pile of snow sloughed off a branch directly onto him, but he didn't even notice the cold. He came to a ravine, then stopped. He sat by the edge of it, his arms curled around his knees.

After a while, someone called his name.

Clark's head shot up. At first, he thought that maybe it was his mother, looking for him, but it didn't really sound like her. The voice called again. No, it wasn't anyone he knew.

He stood up and followed the sound.

"Clark?"

It was coming from this way...he pushed a few low-hanging branches aside and pressed on.

"Clark!"

He picked up speed, wondering who it could be. Maybe he had it wrong, though; maybe this person was just looking for someone else named Clark...

"Clark Jerome Kent! So help me, if you don't get back here right now..."

Or not.

He heard the crunching of footsteps behind the shrubs ahead. He pushed through.

There was a clearing. A woman was standing there, looking away from him. She was brunette, and except for the oversized jacket she wore, she didn't seem to be dressed for winter. She hugged herself tightly, tapping one foot impatiently. He didn't recognize her at all.

A man came through the bushes on the other side. Like the woman, he seemed to be dressed for a warmer day, although he wasn't even shivering. "Sorry, Honey," he began. "I -- "

The man looked up at him and froze.

The woman turned, following the man's stare, and froze.

Clark himself froze. "I -- I thought I heard my name," he stammered.

The man and the woman shared a look. "Well, this is awkward," the woman murmured.

The man looked up at him again. There was something strange about him that Clark couldn't quite put his finger on. "Er, we didn't realize there would be anyone else in these woods," he began, then paused. "It's Valentine's day, isn't it? Shouldn't you be off somewhere with L -- uh, with your girlfriend?"

The woman gave her companion a mildly annoyed look.

"Well, I -- he's -- at that age," the man told her. "You already know how it was -- is -- at that age..."

"Oh, I know," she said, rolling her eyes.

Clark looked from one to the other with a growing sense of uncertainty. "I wanted to be alone for a while," he admitted.

"Ah," said the woman, beginning to tug at the man's elbow. "Well, then, we shouldn't keep you. So, sorry about the misunderstanding; we'll just be on our way..."

"Wait a minute," said the man, not even budging as the woman continued to pull. "Don't you -- er, I mean, wouldn't a boy your age have some specific place to go when he needs to get away?"

Clark stared at him, blankly.

"Some sort of tree-house, perhaps?" the man prompted.

"Oh." Clark shrugged. "Yeah, I used to have one; Dad and I built it back when I was a kid. It got blown over in the storm two years ago, though."

The woman stopped pulling the man's arm, and they both stared at him in clear surprise.

"It -- what?" the man asked.

"Oh, that's awful!" said the woman, drawing up to the man's side and wrapping her arms around his waist. He responded with an arm around her shoulders.

Clark squirmed. "It -- it's not such a big deal, really," he lied. "I mean, yeah, seeing it smashed up was a bummer, but I'm not a little kid anymore."

They shared another look.

"You need something, though," the man said, softly.

"I -- " Clark frowned. Just who were these people, and why were they so obsessed with whether he did or did not have a tree-house? Lots of kids didn't have them, and they had no reason to think he should be special. "Who are you?" he asked.

There was that look, again.

"You're not from here," Clark went on. "But, you know my name -- I heard you call it out in full -- and you seem pretty interested in my life. What exactly do you want with -- " he stopped as a familiar sensation burned around his eyes. "Oh, no," he whispered.

Just as the heat began to well up, the man moved. Clark slammed his eyes shut, silently cursing himself. He felt something being slipped onto his face.

"It's all right," the man said. "You can open them, now."

Clark waited until the heat had fully passed before he dared to crack an eye open, dreading what he might see.

The man was standing in front of him, no-longer wearing his glasses. His shirt had a large hole burned into it, exposing his bare chest to the elements. Other than that, he seemed completely unharmed.

He didn't seem shocked, either. He didn't point at Clark and call him a freak. He seemed...to understand.

"So much for secrecy, huh, Clark?" the woman called from where she'd been left standing.

Clark's heart began to pound. "Wh-what?!" he stammered, staggering backward.

"Not you," she said, walking towards them. "The taller one."

The 'taller one' rolled his eyes and sighed. Clark studied his face again. It was remarkable how different it looked without the glasses... He reached up, feeling the frames settled somewhat awkwardly on his own face.

"All right," said the man. "You're right; we're not exactly from here. But I promise you, we don't mean you any harm."

"Okay..." said Clark. His mind was still racing. He looked at the hole in the man's shirt again, and the un-burned flesh behind it. And...that woman was calling him Clark...

"Are you...like me?" he asked, cautiously.

The other Clark paused. "You could certainly say that," he said, slowly. The woman behind him started to cough.

So, they were alike.

And his name was Clark.

And he was older.

"Are you from the future?" he asked.

The woman gasped.

"Well, we're from *a* future," said the other Clark. "Not this universe's, although it's fairly similar."

"Oh," said Clark, nodding. "I see."

The woman stared at them, her eyebrows raised. "I'm surprised you caught on so fast," she said.

"I used to read a lot of sci-fi."

"I read a lot of sci-fi."

The two of them spoke at once. Clark and his older counterpart glanced at each other. The woman smothered a laugh.

"So, why are you here?" Clark asked.

The woman groaned. "It's a long story."

"Right now, we're looking for a friend," the man replied. "Only he doesn't exist yet, so we have to wait for our *other* friend, so he can help us find him."

Clark blinked.

"It's a loooooooong story," the woman repeated.

"It sounds like it," Clark observed. "So, when are you from?"

"July," said the woman, stamping from the cold.

"Here, just give me a second," said the older Clark.

There was a blur of movement that Clark himself could barely follow, and suddenly, a pile of dried branches appeared in the middle of the clearing. The older Clark stared intently at it for a while. Smoke began to rise. Flames began to crackle.

"Wow," Clark breathed.

The older man smiled at him. "The powers really come in handy, once you've learned to control them." He dragged a log over by the roaring fire. "Here you go, Honey."

"Thanks," the woman said, plunking herself down on the log and immediately holding out her hands to the warmth of the flames. "Mmm, much better," she murmured. "This is why I married you."

"I'm *married*?!" Clark asked, his eyebrows shooting into his hair.

His older counterpart broke away from grinning at the woman, and coughed uncomfortably. "Er, technically, I'm not actually you," he pointed out.

"And, technically, you are," said Clark. He looked the woman over. "You're not Lana Lang," he observed.

The woman snorted. "Not even technically," she said.

"So, who are you?" Clark asked.

Again, they shared a long look.

Clark sighed. "Look, I know that all the stories about time-travel have it where you're forbidden to talk to your past self or give away information about the future. I get it. But, like you said, I'm not technically you. It shouldn't break causality if you talk to me, and I just -- I need answers. *Any* answers." He raked a hand through his hair. "Yesterday, I nearly broke Pete's arm. This week alone, I started two fires in the barn, and one in the school gymnasium. I don't know what I'm turning into."

The woman stared at him with sympathy, then turned to his counterpart. The older man was now sitting beside her, staring into the fire. "I know," he said, then raked a hand through his own hair.

"He doesn't have his tree-house anymore," the woman said. "What if something happened to the globe, as well?"

The older Clark looked up at this.

"Globe?" Clark asked.

The woman nudged his counterpart.

"All right," the man said. "Come have a seat."

Clark dashed to the log and sat beside his other self, his heart pounding.

The older man stared into the fire, apparently thinking. "Okay," he said at last. "Do you know that you're adopted?"

Clark nodded.

"Just checking," said his counterpart. "You and I -- we were born on a planet called Krypton."

"Wait -- we're from another planet?!" Clark felt his heart begin to sink. "So, I'm not even human?"

"Don't even think like that!" the woman snapped at him, causing him to look up with a start. "What planet you're from has nothing to do with anything. Clark has always been the most human guy I know," she went on, resting a hand on the man's knee. "In fact, even before I knew the truth about Superman -- "

"Honey," said his counterpart, "You're jumping ahead."

"Sorry," she said. "But, Clark, he has to know that he's still a person, and not some kind of -- " she waved a hand vaguely in the air.

" -- Monster," his counterpart said, looking into the fire again. "That's what I used to think I was."

Clark nodded.

"But, she's right," his counterpart went on. "These things you can do don't change who you are. You were raised to be Clark Kent, and you're *still* Clark Kent, and no matter how strange your life gets at times, you will always *be* Clark Kent."

Clark grinned. "You sound just like Pa," he said.

His counterpart grinned back. "Who do you think I learned it from?"

"So," Clark began, drawing up his legs and hugging them close to his chest, "are the other people on Krypton like us?"

"Krypton...exploded," said his counterpart, softly. "That's why you were sent away. It isn't because no-one wanted you -- far from it. You were born to two people who knew their world was dying, and did what they could to save you."

"Oh," said Clark. He stared into the crackling fire, his feelings mixed. On the one hand, he wasn't just simply discarded. But on the other hand, he was an orphan, and probably more alone than anyone else in the universe.

"Our parents found our spaceship when we were a baby," his counterpart continued. "They didn't know where we came from, but they've been trying to protect us ever since." He paused. "You might hear Dad mention laboratories and frogs..."

Clark nodded, unable to suppress the involuntary shiver.

"You don't have to be paranoid," the older man said, "but it never hurts to be careful."

"Unless, of course, 'never' includes proposing without even telling your would-be fiancee -- " the woman chimed in.

The older Clark rolled his eyes. "I would have told you afterward," he said.

"You should have told me before," said the woman. "And anyway, you didn't."

His counterpart sighed. "*Anyway*," he said, "she's got a point; don't let yourself get so paranoid that you can't even share your secret with someone you love and trust." He took the woman's hand and squeezed it as he spoke. She smiled up at him in response.

"Also," the woman said, turning to him again, "never let someone who's secretly in love with you think you're dead for more than five minutes."

Clark frowned in confusion, but filed this information away anyway. He reached up and touched the frames of the glasses again. "These really work?" he asked.

"You'd be amazed," said the woman.

His counterpart chuckled. "The glass holds your vision-gizmo back, yes," he said.

"Vision-gizmo?" Clark echoed.

"That's what she calls it," the man said, nodding toward the woman now leaning on his shoulder.

Clark thought back to what his alternate self said when he built the fire. "And...you can control it?"

The older Clark nodded. "It takes a long time," he said, "but someday, you'll learn to control your powers. You'll learn how to hide them." He grinned. "And one day, you'll get to *show* them."

Clark stared at him in disbelief.

"You're gonna grow up to change the world, Kid," the woman said, smiling at him. "You get to fly around saving lives, arresting bad guys, and confusing a woman into thinking you're two different people."

He crinkled his forehead. "Two diff -- did you say *fly*?!" His eyebrows shot up.

His counterpart was grinning at him. "When you're eighteen," he said. "And believe me, it's the best one."

There was a cracking in the branches, somewhere deeper into the woods. Clark looked up, trying to pin-point the sound. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his other self do the same. The cracking got closer for a while, paused, and then started to get further away. "It sounds like someone's lost in the woods," Clark said. "Should we go help?" He heard the sound of muttering.

His counterpart stood and helped the woman to her feet. "That's one of our friends," he said. "We'd better be going."

"Do you need these back?" Clark asked, reaching for the glasses.

The older man shook his head. "I have a spare," he said, reaching for the jacket the woman wore and pulling a case from one of the pockets. He opened it, pulled out a pair of thicker-framed glasses and slipped them on. "Keep those. If anyone asks, you can just say that you found them in the woods; it's technically true."

Clark nodded. "Thanks," he said.

The two of them turned to go.

"Wait!"

They paused.

"One last question," he said. He turned to the woman. "Who are you?"

She smiled enigmatically, and his counterpart wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "She's the greatest woman you'll ever meet," the older man said, and then turned and vanished with her into the woods.

'Vanish' was the right word, it turned out. After about an hour of searching for them, Clark gave up and headed for home.

He was just to the edge of the property when he heard a voice call his name.

"Clark Jerome Kent!"

He smiled. That would be Ma.

She was already standing at the door when he reached the steps of the front porch. "Where have you been, young man?" she demanded. "When Lana called, asking where you were, we didn't know what had happened to you!" She paused, taking in his appearance. "Where did you get those, Clark?" she asked.

"In the woods," he said, reaching up to adjust the glasses on his face.

"Is that where you were, Honey?" she asked, softly. "In the woods?"

Clark nodded. "Yeah. I just -- " he suppressed a chuckle. " -- needed to be by myself, for a while."

His mom reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. "And did it help?" she asked him.

He smiled at her. "Yeah," he said. "I think it helped a lot."

THE END

The following story –

“Far From Fiction”

by – Mozartmaid

was Nominated in the:

Best Mid-length Story

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Far From Fiction

By Mozartmaid <mozartmaid@gmail.com>

Rated G

Submitted July 2013

Summary: Lois is left behind as Superman flies off to save New Krypton. Tempus has a plan for her in an alternate reality where Lois and Clark is nothing but a TV show...

Thanks to my betas, Female Hawk and KenJ and my GE, GooBoo!

***

Time stopped as my whole world disappeared out through the Daily Planet window.

I was strong until that moment. Until the last flutter of his cape had disappeared in a streak of red, I was able to hold on, believe that our love would carry us through any disaster, any eventuality.

But as soon as he was gone, really gone, I collapsed. Inwardly, my heart broke into a million pieces as my one anchor to this earth left, possibly forever. I buckled into the steadying arms of his parents; mere proxies for the one I longed to hold me... who I feared might never hold me again.

And I had stood there and let it happen! Because Clark had always been my rock, I had been able to lean on him, trust his judgment that helping his people was the right thing to do. His noble nature had rubbed off on me, after all. But with him gone, I fell immediately back into lost and lonely Lois Lane-- ;and I can't believe I let it happen!

"It's over," I whispered brokenly, realizing what I had lost, let go of because I had decided to be noble and self-sacrificing--for a people and a place I'd never see. "I shouldn't have let him go!"

Only in my deepest heart did I admit the hate I felt for those Kryptonians for taking away my Clark, my husband in all but name. They had snatched away our future happiness together by appealing to what had always been strong in Clark, his need to help people. And I hated them for it. I hated them for taking him away, and I felt guilty because of that hate.

As the tears fell, I cringed at what Clark would think if he could read my mind like his Kryptonian brethren could read his. Would he be shocked? Disappointed that he had almost married a woman so selfish?

I always knew that marrying Superman would mean I would have to share him with the world. I just never thought that could mean I would have to share him with the universe...

Jonathan Kent murmured to me, "A love that risks nothing, is worth nothing."

I wanted to believe that, but Clark and I had already risked so much. Our love had already been tested by amnesia, clones, and psychopaths. Why must it be put through this trial as well?

***

I sat alone on the sofa for hours that night... first holding the teddy bear Clark had given me during a long-ago fair in Smallville... Our time together had been so short--it could have been so much more meaningful if I had acknowledged the connection between us sooner, instead of running away from him.

It doesn't matter. What matters is the time I had with him—and the hope I must hold onto that he will return to me again someday.

In my darkest despair, I could almost hear him calling to me... I didn't know if it was my imagination, and I didn't care. My heart simply reached out to the endless skies that separated us as I stood up from the sofa and moved to the window. I wiped my eyes, searching the starlit sky for his star. "Clark?" came out choked and weak, speaking his name only burning a more painful hole in my chest, as I feared I may never speak it to his face again.

I heard him, though, in my soul, and despite how crazy it sounds, I'm certain through the darkness and across the stars he'd already traveled, I heard him say, "I love you." I hold on to those words, bury them deep in my heart, a balm to the wound that is still freshly there, a wound that can only heal with his return...

Slowly, I made my way back to my sofa. As I sat, I idly watched the curtains flutter, thinking of the many times Clark had come in through those curtains as Superman. I can almost see his reassuring smile, his majestic cape swishing behind him.

In retrospect, I wondered how many times he had come by my place after a particularly harrowing rescue, before I had known his secret. How many times had he come here because I had turned him away as Clark? I never asked him about those nights, sensing that he had felt embarrassed about that period of our relationship; and I didn't want him to feel embarrassed that those visits had been his guilty pleasure--they had certainly been mine . And in my own way, I had tried to be there for him, even then, as best I could without knowing the truth.

And now... when I needed him most, I had let him go... and all I can do is trust that he'll come back to me.

***

I think I dozed off a moment. I looked up, seeing the curtain still fluttering, and I thought I saw a figure on the balcony...

My heart in my throat, I called out, "Clark?" as I raced over.

Before I could get to the window, a tall blond man stepped inside instead, and I felt my blood run cold with fear.

"Tempus," I whispered, dread surging through me.

"So good of you to remember me, Lois," he said with a snide grin. "I know you must be awfully lonely without your fiance in tights... so, I thought I'd give you a treat."

"What do you want?" I said steadily, trying to reign in my fear. I didn't trust him any farther than I could throw him.

"Just for you to take a little trip..."

He grabbed my arm, and before I could protest, we were whisked away...

***

I woke up in my apartment.

I sat up and looked around, suddenly remembering being abducted by Tempus.

I began walking around, noticing that something... was off. The walls around me seemed unnaturally flimsy, and the light outside was a shade or two brighter than normal. I tried the sink, and the stream that came out was a pathetic trickle. I'd have to talk to Mr. Tracewski about that...

"Hey, thought you left already... I know the feeling. I'm gonna miss this old set."

I froze, hearing that voice, a voice I'd know anywhere from behind me. I turned, and there was Clark wearing a baseball cap, jeans, and a t-shirt. I ran to him without thinking and threw my arms around him.

"I never thought I'd see you again!" I cried, overcome.

"Teri, calm down. I told you, we'll keep in touch. " He pulled back from the hug and looked me in the eyes. "What's with the waterworks?" he asked gently.

I looked up at him, and really saw him, realizing that something wasn't right. I stepped out of his arms and looked around the apartment again. Was this a trick? Who's Teri? Where had Tempus sent me?

Clark--or the man I thought was Clark-- had a concerned look on his face. I wanted to crumple into tears right there. That was my Clark's look of concern---but, he wasn't Clark.

I sat down on the sofa, which was much more uncomfortable than my real sofa, and started sobbing. "Tempus! Tempus did this!" I cried.

The man who wasn't Clark came and sat beside me. "Teri, what's going on? Look I know, taping the last three episodes was a bit insane, but we got through it. I thought you'd be on a flight by now back to New York. Are you okay?"

I looked up at him, the man who wasn't Clark, with tears streaming down my face. "Who are you?" I asked, shaken. "Where am I?"

He looked at me with infinite patience, which only sent me into more tears, as that's exactly how my Clark would look at me. "Did you hit your head?" he asked kindly.

I shook it in answer, demonstrating that it had not in fact been smacked. He took my hands, and I fought the urge to lean into him. "Teri, I know it's been stressful... We both loved these characters, and it's hard to let them go. I'm still trying to get them to at least let me keep the cape, you know? Just to have something to remember it all by... Look, why don't we go get a bite to eat, get off the set, and shake it off, okay?"

Not knowing what else to do, confused and heart-broken, I accepted his arm as we wandered out of my apartment and on to what looked like a film set...

*DEAN*

Teri must be taking the wrap-up harder than even I am...

We stepped out onto the Warner Brothers back lot, and she looked around, eyes wide.

"Where am I?" she whispered.

I took her by the shoulders, and steered her towards the parking lot. "Teri, are you sure you are okay?"

She turned to face me, her eyes hitting me square in the chest. It reminded me of a few of those long nights on set, when we were both so exhausted yet would find a little bit of magic left -- usually in a scene that ended with a kiss. When the director would yell cut, we'd always pull away like two guilty children.

Teri was married... and yet, this was work, our job. We were paid to be in love.

How many times over the last four years have I had to repeat that to myself?

But she turned to me with one of those intense gazes that always gave me chills on set, when I really felt her channeling Lois Lane.

She whispered something, and I longed to have Clark Kent's super hearing just for a moment to catch it. I asked her again if she was all right and she stopped in the middle of the parking lot.

"I'm Lois Lane," she said with desperate conviction that, quite honestly, frightened me.

"Teri---"

Breathless, with tears in her eyes, she shook her head. "You have to believe me -- I'm Lois Lane!"

Noticing some techies eyeing our odd little scene, I ushered Teri into my car. I came around to the driver's side, buckled up and started the engine.

Teri was in tears next to me. I couldn't just ignore her, but people around the lot were starting to notice and I knew the last thing Teri would want was gossip to stir up. So I quietly backed my car out and started driving. I was tempted to turn on the radio, but I didn't want Teri to think I was disrespecting her grief.

When her tears subsided a little, I finally spoke. "Do you want to talk about it?" I pulled out on to the 134 Freeway, which was already jammed with the evening traffic. We'd be here a while.

"I don't understand what ha--happened," she stammered. "Tempus... what did he do?" she whispered fiercely.

Teri is one of the sharpest people I know. She dove into her role wholeheartedly as Lois Lane, but she could always turn it off and relax after a shoot. This new Teri sitting next to me was unnerving.

I glanced over at her, her doe eyes wide with fear and trepidation. I couldn't let her continue to suffer like that. I reached out for her hand. Her tiny one slid into mine, and she seemed to breathe easier.

"You're just like him," she whispered. "But--I know you're not..."

"Teri--what's going on?"

"I. Am. Lois. Lane," she said deliberately. "I don't know how to explain it... I don't know how to explain you--and why do you keep calling me Teri?"

The traffic was beginning to move a little. I shifted my Miata to scoot around a few cars, but we ended up right behind all the slow traffic a moment later.

"We acted together. In a show about Superman," I explained patiently. "I played Clark Kent/Superman, and you played--"

"-- Lois Lane," she said numbly. "Tempus sure does have a sick sense of humor..."

"Who?"

"Tempus. He hates everything about y--Clark. And this surely tops his schemes..."

I sighed. Still trying to wrap my mind around the idea that this might not actually be Teri. Unless--had Teri lost it? We both had wanted the show to continue. We had all kinds of ideas that the producers had been willing to discuss, and I had at least two ideas for episodes I was thinking of writing...

But surely...

At last, traffic was starting to free up. But I had no idea where I could take Te--er, Lois? "Do you want to get a bite to eat somewhere?" I asked.

"I need to figure out how to get back. H-he'll come back, and I have to be there," she said a little desperately.

"Who? Eh, Tempus?" I said warily, not believing I was having this conversation with my co-star.

"Clark," she said, so brokenly, so full of lonely love and isolation that my heart reached out for her -- whoever she was. Had Teri really lost it? Or was this just a strange joke being played on me?

But no matter. She was upset, and we were friends.

"Tell you what? We're only a few miles from my condo. Why don't we go there?" I suggested, realizing that if we appeared in public together we'd probably get mobbed, and if Teri started talking like she was Lois Lane, well, the papers would have a field day.

"I suppose so," she answered quietly, staring out the window. A light rain had begun, and I switched on the wipers. The quiet swoosh of the wipers across the windshield was the only noise in the car.

I heard her voice, but didn't hear what she said. "What?" I asked quietly, turning off the highway as I headed for home.

"I'm not crazy... I just don't know--how to explain this. Or--you," she said.

"It's okay... we'll figure it out," I said calmly, though I had no idea how.

*LOIS*

He looked like Clark. He sounded like him -- but he wasn't him.

This world seemed so strange, so--- not right.

Clark had taught me to believe in the impossible and the improbable. He had taught me to believe in miracles...

I had to believe that somehow either he or HG Wells would find me. Even in this strange, alternate world, where Clark was- -- not Clark.

I surreptitiously studied the man next to me. "What did you say your name was?"

He seemed startled at my question, but quickly recovered. "Dean... Dean Cain," he said, shaking his head. "Are you sure you're all right?"

I sighed, and sunk in my seat. "Fine," I murmured, meanwhile feeling far from it.

At last, we pulled up to a gated house. Dean leaned out the window to punch in a code. Whoever he was, apparently he was important enough to need a gated house.

We drove into a garage and went inside. He led me to his kitchen. A spacious, modern kitchen that might even make an incompetent cook like me passable...

"Would you like something to drink? Orange juice... water... wine?"

"Wine," I said immediately.

He poured us two glasses of Merlot and lifted his in a sort of toast.

He glanced around the kitchen, seemingly at a loss what to say, when he reached across the counter to check his blinking answering machine.

"You have one new message: Thursday, November 24, 1996, 4:02 PM: 'Dean, hey it's Teri. Just wanted to let you know I got back to New York safely--'"

Dean hit the button and glanced at me. I think my jaw dropped to my toes -- that woman sounded just like me!

"That was--Teri?" I somehow managed to get out.

Dean looked just as shocked as I felt. He took his baseball cap off and ran his fingers through his hair in an unnervingly Clark-like gesture. "Yeah... so I guess that really does make you ---Lois Lane," he said, though he still didn't seem to believe it. "But how is that possible?"

I shrugged, still trying to understand how there could be a Clark who wasn't Clark, and a me who wasn't me out there in the world.

"I just want to get back to where I belong," I said simply, an ache building in my chest as I thought about Clark, out there--somewhere.

"Look, I don't know what to think. I mean, unless my answering machine is faulty... that was Teri on the phone. So -- that must make you --" he gestured his out towards me, and I nodded to encourage him. "Lois Lane?"

"Yes," I answered softly. "Look, I don't get it either... I mean, you look just like my Clark! But -- you're not him... " I suddenly started to feel panicky. "You're an actor? And you play Clark on TV?" I said, having just as hard a time as he did understanding what was going on.

"I have an idea," Dean said, moving towards the living room. "I have some tapes of our show--maybe watching them will help you understand---"

"Understand what? That Tempus sent me to this alternate universe--where Clark and I are a sitcom?"

"Not a sitcom... More of a family drama...er, well, it's a family show..."

He dug through his large cabinet, next to his big screen TV. Suddenly he turned around, a triumphant grin on his face. My heart flipped --how could he look just like Clark, and yet not be him?

He cleared his throat, perhaps seeing my slight discomfiture and started getting the VCR ready. "What's it like?" he asked, suddenly a little shy.

"What?"

He glanced over his shoulder, though not looking at me. "Flying with Superman?" he said with a slight chuckle. He shook his head, coming to sit by me on the sofa as he grabbed a remote. "I can't believe I'm asking you that..."

"It's okay..." I said, even though I felt a lump in my throat at the thought... Would I ever see Clark again? He was worlds away, and I--was completely lost in another dimension.

I sighed, gathering my thoughts and reining in my emotions. "It's amazing. He's--amazing."

Dean smiled slightly and seemed embarrassed. "I can't believe any of this is real, but--" he said, pressing play.

We sat there for the next three hours, watching episodes of what were essentially mine and Clark's lives. Not word for word, mind, and the effects looked pretty fake- - but the shocking thing was the events of our lives took the shape of plots in this television series.

I was riveted to the screen, and made Dean show me episode after episode, flabbergasted that a whole world existed where Clark and I existed, but merely in fictional form.

After about the third episode and halfway through the second bottle of wine, Dean turned to me, curious. "So--what happened when you disappeared?"

I took another long sip of the wine, overwhelmed by the events of the day, but eventually answered him. "Clark left... to lead his people on New Krypton," I croaked out, the pain of his absence still so raw. "And I--I don't know if I'll ever see him again."

Tears were streaming down my cheeks as I looked helplessly up at Dean. He grimaced sympathetically and reached across the table to hand me a tissue.

"Thanks," I murmured. Suddenly, I had a thought. "Wait. If your show follows our lives, albeit not exactly--but maybe I could learn what will happen to Clark?" I looked up at him expectantly, hope surging through me.

He gave me an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, I don't have the season four tapes yet. But Lois, in our show, Superman does return," he said, and then seemed to hesitate.

"What is it?" I ask calculatingly, seeing his guarded expression. "What aren't you telling me?"

He cleared his throat, like a doctor about to deliver some bad news, but his eyes met mine, "Clark comes back because a Kryptonian named Lord Nor decides to attack Earth."

*DEAN*

I can't believe those words left my mouth, and that somehow, somewhere, they are actually the truth.

I can see it on her face. The look of terror in her eyes, and I immediately want to reassure her. "But it all works out in the end, Lois. Clark fights Lord Nor and saves Earth."

Lois' tears returned, her eyes full of soulful sorrow. "But that was a television show, Dean. Of course the hero wins. But in real life?"

I sigh, still trying to wrap my mind around the idea that this is the real Lois Lane, engaged to a real Superman, out there somewhere. I laugh a little to myself, and Lois gives me a reproving look.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. I guess it's true what they say about parallel universes and all that."

She looked at me with a wry expression, classic Lois Lane, in my view. "But what are we going to do about it? I have to get back!"

Even in her distress, I found her determined spirit charming. It was unsettling, really. Teri had only played a character that I had found disarming at times and had to work hard not to fall for. But Lois Lane in the flesh? I was a dead man.

I wanted to help her any way I could, strangely because of Clark Kent. I somehow could feel the expectation on my shoulders. I looked like him, and therefore she expected that I would be like him. And some foolish part of me desperately wanted to try to be.

My pager beeped. I glanced down and saw it was Sharon, a woman I'd been dating off and on. We were supposed to go out tonight. But there was no way I was going to leave *the* Lois Lane alone in my apartment, in a strange world. I knew Clark Kent wouldn't want me to either.

"Can you excuse me a moment? I need to make a phone call," I say, heading off into the bedroom.

*LOIS*

While Dean left to make his phone call, I tried to keep myself from falling apart, worried about my world.

Clark would be back. And so would I.

I had to believe that.

I scanned the names of the episodes on the tapes, trying to work out how accurate they may have been to Clark's and my real-life adventures. Was Dean right? Would Lord Nor try to take over Earth?

But how was I to get back? How would Clark know how to find me?

I felt so lost, only half-recognizing the titles of his books, seeing how truly different this world was. I came across a picture of him and Teri, dressed up like me and Clark and tears caught in my throat at the striking resemblances. Sure, Clark's Superman suit looked much more resplendent in real life, but there was a genuine affection between the two actors that came across clearly in the photo. I nosed around a bit more, but didn't see any other photos.

Was Dean single?

My heart went out to him, somehow feeling like he was similar to the Clark I had met in that other universe, the Clark who had lost his family and his Lois... it broke my heart to think Dean was alone in the same way.

I heard him clear his throat behind me. "That was taken after Season 2, just before Teri cut her hair."

Almost subconsciously, I reached for my own pageboy hair, chilled again by the uncanny similarities of our worlds.

"I always thought it looked better cut that way," he said softly, gesturing to my current style.

I suddenly sighed, frustrated to hear the same tenderness in his voice that I would hear in Clark's and yet know that he wasn't Clark. "How am I going to get back?" I asked helplessly.

"I don't know. But we'll find a way," he said, again so like Clark. It broke my resolve, and I was abruptly in a flood of tears once more.

Dean hesitated a moment, but then suddenly wrapped me in his arms, rubbing my back like a small child. "Please don't cry. We'll figure this out. I promise."

"And you don't think I'm crazy?" I said, my voice sounding muffled as I cried into his shoulder.

"I don't know what to think. But I don't think you are crazy."

Eventually my tears calmed, held in his arms. I pulled away from him, feeling guilty for having sought some solace there.

He cleared his throat, sensing the awkwardness and offered me more wine.

I suddenly felt very sleepy and shook my head. "I'd just like to go to bed, if it's all the same to you. I have no idea what to do, but I know I can't think as tired as I am."

"No problem at all. There's a guest room upstairs. Follow me."

*DEAN*

Lois Lane was sleeping in my guest room.

I smiled to myself as I jogged lightly back down the stairs.

What a strange world...

My kitchen phone rang and I reached to answer it. "Dean, hi. It's Teri," came that voice that always made me smile. That voice in the form of Lois Lane was even more extraordinary.

I steadied myself, resisting the urge to blurt out the fact that Lois Lane herself had somehow found her way into our world and instead listened to why Teri was calling.

"Did you have a nice flight?" I managed to get out, hoping she didn't hear the edge of nervous excitement in my voice.

"First class is always better than coach," she quipped. "Hey, listen, I was supposed to be back in LA by Friday for the unofficial L&C farewell party, but my agent just called and I have to stay in New York over the weekend. Is it horrible that your co-star won't be there?" she said apologetically.

Normally, I would have been very disappointed, and I knew that the rest of the cast and crew who had been looking forward to another chance to celebrate and remember the show would be, too. Yet, I had her replacement just upstairs...

"Uh, sure. I'm sure they'll understand," I said, smiling at the idea of actually taking Lois Lane herself to the wrap-up party. "Business is business, right?"

"Thanks. So you don't mind making my excuses for me?"

"No, don't worry about anything. I'll find another date."

"OK. Well, look me up next time you're in New York, and same when I come back to LA."

"Of course. Take care, Teri."

"You, too, Dean. Bye."

I hung up the phone and sighed, my heart still racing at the idea of Lois going to the party.

Would it work? Would everyone buy that she was Teri?

And would Lois mind?

I hoped not.

I had always enjoyed my co-star's company, but especially when she was in the throes of playing Lois Lane.

Secretly, I had really enjoyed our fourth season -- when we were married. I had been able to pretend Lois Lane was my wife, hold Teri in my arms and kiss her quite frequently. There were a few occasions where I had felt quite guilty afterwards, confused between my acting and my own feelings of loneliness.

It wasn't easy being a good-looking TV star. You usually had either starlets or local fans chasing after you, and neither seemed to want to be with you for the right reasons.

So no wonder, sometimes between the moments of reality, under the TV lights and with a make-believe super persona to back me up, I enjoyed kissing my co-star.

There. I admitted it. She was happily married to someone else, and I enjoyed kissing her. Her Lois Lane was so much fun, so charming, and a part of me had fallen for her.

But Lois Lane herself was another level of amazing. And I looked just like her real-life fiance. In her world, I was Superman.

I reached for the wine bottle, needing something to take the nervous edge off my emotions. I sighed as I sat in front of the TV and searched for a basketball game to watch.

But my thoughts kept drifting to the strange events of today. It seemed that there actually were parallel worlds. What was fiction here, was true somewhere else. This was ground-breaking -- if the scientific community knew, they'd have a field day.

I could be famous for something other than playing Clark Kent/Superman.

But the part of me that remembered what it was like to play Clark Kent, who was scared of his origins, and feared getting dissected like a frog, knew I had to keep this to myself.

If anyone actually found out that Lois Lane was really herself, her life would never be the same.

I owed it to that real Clark Kent out there, and to the character I had believed in for the last four years, to do everything in my power to protect Lois -- and to somehow figure out how to get her back where she belonged.

*LOIS*

I woke up to sunshine on my face.

The bed I was in was deliciously comfortable and I groaned at the thought of having to leave it.

"Morning, sleepy head," came a familiar voice from the doorway.

*Clark?*

My heart sank as I peeked from out of the covers, realizing I was still in that other world, with a man who looked and talked like my fiance, yet wasn't.

I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. Dean had a tray in his arms and brought it over to me.

Eggs, bacon, and toast, along with a glass of orange juice. He even had added a flower and a local newspaper.

My hands immediately reached for the paper. I glanced up at Dean, and he smiled.

"I should have known that a true journalist would first be hungry for the news in the morning."

My eager eyes devoured the headlines, unfamiliar with the obviously important names. The differences in our worlds was hugely unsettling. "President Clinton?" I squeaked out. Very unnerving to be a top reporter and not even recognize the name of the leader of the free world.

"A bit different than from where you're from?" he asked sympathetically.

I nodded mutely and continued to read while I reached for a piece of toast.

Dean cleared his throat, and I pulled my eyes away from the newspaper to look at him.

"Uh, we don't know how long you'll be here... and uh, well, Teri can't make it this weekend to the wrap-up party..." he started, looking decidedly very nervous. "I was wondering – if you'd want to go?"

I set the paper aside and gave him my best you've-got-to-be-kidding gape. "You want me to go to a party where I pretend to be the actress who plays me on TV?"

He grimaced. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything -- I'll find another date--"

But I didn't want him to have another date. He was obviously lonely, and I was worlds away from my Clark -- I suddenly grinned up at him. "I suppose it would be something to do."

"So--you wouldn't mind?" he asked, looking a little hopeful.

"Well, it's not my first choice -- but neither is being sent to a world I can't explain. But you know what they say about being in Rome," I said gamely.

"You truly are an amazing woman, Lois Lane," he murmured.

The soft look in his eyes took me aback, suddenly reminding me of Clark. If he was just an actor, he seemed to have an awful lot of affection for either Teri or... me. "What was your relationship like with Teri?", I blurted, and he gaped at me, clearly taken off guard. "Sorry. I have a tendency to say what I think," I shrugged apologetically, reaching for the orange juice.

He nodded with a sigh. "I suppose it's a fair question... Teri and I had a great relationship. We had great chemistry -- lots of fun on set. I--well, I guess--"

"Did you fall for her?" I asked, slightly amused. How ironic if he had fallen for Teri much like Clark had fallen for me.

He shrugged. "I don't know... Often times, it was--confusing. There was definitely something there between us, only--" he glanced sheepishly at me. "Teri is married."

"Oh," I responded, beginning to understand.

"Yeah... but it's fine. I mean, Teri and I are great friends."

Now it was time for me to grimace. "You sound a lot like Clark, in the early days of our relationship. He always claimed that he just loved working with me. But there would be days when... I knew, you know?"

Dean reluctantly nodded. "Yeah... I know."

I reached for his hand before I knew what I had done, and his eyes met mine, so like Clark's. "I met another Clark once," I began softly. "He never met his Lois Lane... and though I can't help you become Superman, I think you're a decent guy, Dean. She's out there somewhere, I'm sure of it."

He stared at me a moment, I suppose searching for what to say. He pulled his hand away from mine and stood up, walking towards the window. "This is all so... strange, I guess... and I don't want to drag you down with my own issues, Lois... Maybe it would be better if you stayed here--"

I gave him a lopsided smile. "Did you really learn nothing playing Clark?" I teased. "When do I ever stay put?"

He grinned back, seeming to relax a bit from the tension a moment ago. "Fair enough. Besides, I was always curious what it would be like to actually take you out."

*DEAN*

This has been the strangest day, and quite honestly, the most fun I've had in a long time.

I took Lois out shopping, so she'd have something to wear for the party. She admitted she hated shopping, but she was a lot of fun on Rodeo Drive. We pretended she was Teri, as a sort of warm-up for the party, and tried to avoid the paparazzi whenever possible.

Lord knows what Teri would say if she saw photos of Lois and I hanging out in downtown L.A.

Anyway, despite missing her Clark, Lois was able to let loose a little bit as we joked and teased. I told her stories about Teri and I on set, and she'd come back with these amazing parallels to our fictional show. I'm still blown away by the fact that she's really Lois Lane in the flesh, but I also feel like I know her, as Teri had really captured the essence of her, especially in our early seasons.

This Lois was just as bouncy, just as sharp, just as witty. She had a quick mind, and a generous heart. Every now and then, she'd get a bit melancholic, and I knew she was missing *him*. I really did feel like Clark Kent, unable to measure up to Superman... knowing that I could never win her affections the way he had. And while I respected their relationship, I just couldn't help feeling that I was a part of it somehow, a part of them. What a peculiar thing to say, and yet, I did feel connected. I thought that what Teri and I had created on camera was at the very least, a glimpse into the love that these two felt for each other. And somehow, I felt connected to that love, as strange as it is for me to admit.

As we drove back to my place, after Lois had finally picked a suitable dress, she drifted off to sleep. I hummed softly to the radio, wondering if I should wake her when we arrived back at my place.

When I pulled in the garage, she looked so peaceful, so sweet, that I didn't want to disturb her.

I hesitated a moment, but then, telling myself that it was nothing but altruism and a desire for her to stay resting, I came around the other side of the car and lifted her out of the seat and into my arms. Now, I had carried Teri any number of times on set. But I wasn't ready for the real thing.

Lois Lane was cradled in my arms. Though she wasn't very heavy, I suddenly felt her turn into my embrace, her head settling on my shoulder, as if she knew exactly how to place her body with mine. And I realized, she probably thought it was her Clark -- Superman, who carried her.

I wasn't sure if I should feel complimented that I so resembled the hero, or worried that I was so attracted to her.

"Clar..." she murmured, nuzzling under my chin.

I simply couldn't believe this is happening. This was starting like so many fantasies that I had on the set with Teri... but I knew this wouldn't go anywhere, as I wouldn't dare take advantage of the trust she had put in me.

And like Teri, we were just friends.

"Clark Kent is one lucky guy," I couldn't help whisper as I laid her down in the bed upstairs.

"Come back to me soon..." she murmured, turning onto her side, and I found myself smiling.

What a life... to be engaged to Superman. And she was so used to him leaving at any and all times of day or night. Yet she knew -- he'd always come back.

I sighed. Her Clark was out there on New Krypton, I suppose. And while things had resolved okay on our television series, I couldn't help but feel a bit of fear for her.

I hoped she'd find a way back.

And I hoped that Superman would be there waiting for her.

*LOIS*

I was trying to shake myself from the nightmare... it just seemed too horrific to contemplate.

Kryptonians had taken over Smallville... people were working as slaves, building a fort for the Kryptonians...

Where was Clark?

Why wasn't Superman there to stop them?

"Clark..." I called out, and suddenly felt very lonely and afraid. Clark was gone... he was on another planet...

I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking me out of the dream.

"It's okay, Lois." I knew that voice... that was Clark's voice. It pulled me out of the haze of my dream, long enough for me to look into his eyes, to reach for his arms. He held me a minute and I felt safe, secure... if Clark was here, then everything would be all right.

But he gently disentangled himself from my embrace, looking slightly guilty. "Lois, I--I'm sorry."

I looked at him, perplexed a moment, until the truth all came rushing back to me. I was still in that other world, where Clark was nothing but an actor and I--

"I have to get back," I said, looking straight at him. "I think the Kryptonians are on Earth... I dreamed about them. We have to stop them!"

Dean let out a heavy sigh. "I understand, Lois. But how do you suppose we get back there? It's not like I have an inter-dimensional time machine lying around here."

I felt the crushing weight of the truth heavy on my shoulders. Tempus had certainly done a job on me, hadn't he? Dean was right. There was no way back... not without the help of HG Wells. And how was he to find me here?

I pulled my knees up and hugged them close to me. I had never felt so hopeless in my life. I couldn't see a way out of this, a way back to Clark or even back to my world.

"What does it matter? Even if I could go back, Clark is gone..." I whispered, feeling tears clog my throat.

Dean, looking a bit helpless, sat down on the bed next to me. "There has to be a way, Lois. I can't believe that you are stuck here forever."

He didn't sound very convinced, and it just pushed my tears to the surface. "I just wish... I just wish that Clark could save me," I said brokenly, and fell into Dean's arms once more to have a good cry.

*DEAN*

Lois eventually went back to sleep, but I was unable to do the same. I went down to the living room and found myself drawn to my Lois and Clark tapes. I thought I'd have to put all of that behind me, and yet somehow, someway it had suddenly become a larger part of my life than I had ever expected.

I put on a season 2 video, though I didn't really care what episode. I just wanted to try and imagine what it must have been like for Lois, if all of this were real. She had told me that the story lines were roughly the same as events in her life, so I knew things hadn't happened the same word for word and moment for moment, yet still -- the extraordinary reality of Superman being real was overwhelming to me.

As a kid, I had been a huge Superman fan, and I was enthralled as the rest of the world had been by Christopher Reeve's Superman. But the fact that I looked like Lois' Superman, so much so that she confused us, was a lot to take in.

I watched my performance as Clark and the more self-assured Superman and wondered how I measured up to the real deal. I could see where I should have said a line differently, or when something was off with the timing, but in reality, even without considering the super powers, Clark Kent was a lot to live up to.

And yet why did I feel I needed to live up to him?

*Because it's not every day that Lois Lane walks into your life.*

I mean, obviously I knew that there could never be anything between us, despite my fantasies and her missing Clark. But the truth was, we didn't know how or when she'd return to her own time and place. All I knew was that somehow -- she had to, and while she was here, I'd try to be the best Clark Kent I could for her.

*LOIS*

I stared at the dress Dean and I had bought yesterday. I can't believe I am getting ready to go to a party, while who knows what was happening back home.

I took a deep breath. It could all just have been a dream. I could have just taken my insecurity and Dean's suggestions about Lord Nor to heart and had a nightmare.

But something in my gut was telling me it was more than just a dream...

I closed my eyes and thought of Clark. Somehow, he'd rescue me from this... somehow, I would make it back and everything would be all right.

Whatever was going on in Metropolis, I just hoped that at least one thing Dean had said was true -- that Superman would indeed return.

*DEAN*

Lois Lane came down the stairs looking more stunning than I could ever imagine. Teri was a knockout, but there was something so striking about Lois' spirit that shone through, no matter what she wore. She had on the elegant black dress I had bought her yesterday. It was a little low cut, but the creamy contrast of her skin to the velvety fabric made me want to reach out and touch her.

I didn't have to, though, because she took my arm and smiled up at me. "Well, if we're going to do this--let's go."

She seemed to be forcing herself a bit and I turned to look at her. "Lois, you don't have to go through with this. I can just go to the party alone, really. You'll have to put up with people referring to you as Teri. Are you sure you're okay with that?"

She shrugged, and her smile got wider, which made me worry even more that she was forcing it. "If I stayed here I'd just wallow in self-pity. At least at a party I can try to have a little fun."

*LOIS*

The party was a little quieter than I'd expect for a Hollywood event. However, Dean explained to me that this was just an informal wrap-up party, so as to avoid the press, which was probably for the best, all things considered.

I wasn't ready though to be referred to as Teri, while at the same time being playfully called Lois by co-stars. It made me a bit melancholic, actually, and I think I drank a few more cocktails than I should have.

Dean found me about an hour in, wallowing in my own misery at the bar.

"Do you want to go home?" he said, and then cringed. "Sorry. Bad choice of words. We can leave whenever you'd like."

I didn't look at him. Already hearing how much he sounded like Clark was too much, especially in my vulnerable state. But to look up at him, in a suit, even without the glasses, and see that compassionate gaze -- it would break my heart...

"Have you talked to anyone besides me?" he asked, sounding a little nervous.

I sighed and downed the rest of my too-sweet martini drink. "Don't worry, our cover is still intact. I spoke with Marth—I mean, K." I shook my head. "Maybe I should have stayed at your place... this is all a little too weird."

*DEAN*

She looked so despondent, and I felt quite guilty for having brought her here. All around us were pictures from the show, and while I saw great memories and friends, she must see loved ones and people she missed, people she feared she'd never see again.

It had been a mistake to do this to her, and for all the world, I wondered what Clark Kent would do in this moment.

"Excuse me," said a diminutive male voice behind me.

I turned, and there was Terry Kiser, fully dressed as HG Wells. I know he loved his character, and he had added a certain bit of credible whimsy to the show, but the last thing Lois needed right now was to run into someone in costume.

"Terry, how are you?" I asked, unenthused.

"Don't you start calling me Teri again," Lois grumbled and then I shook my head, nodding in Terry's direction. Lois followed my gaze, and then with a gasp, ran over to him.

"HG Wells? Is that really you?" she said, giving him a hug.

I cringed, fearing what Terry would think at Lois' display, but instead he answered her as if it were the most normal question in the world.

"Yes, my dear. I have been trying to track you down for days! Without Superman on the planet-- how I normally locate you two—I became entirely distressed. Do you know what has happened in your world?"

"Wait, so you're actually HG Wells?" I asked, incredulous, looking between the two of them. Would the whole real-world cast of our show just keep popping out of the woodwork?

"Yes, my boy. But don't go anywhere... I may need your help as well."

*LOIS*

I was so relieved to see that HG Wells had found me. It meant that I had a way back! That all was not lost!

"Wait. So what happened?" I asked, momentarily distracted by the prospects of going home, that I missed the implications of what he had said.

"Well, my dear, I'm afraid that Major Zod is after Superman."

"Major Zod? Don't you mean Lord Nor?"I asked, glancing at Dean, who I admit, was looking a little uncomfortable.

HG Wells gave me a puzzled glance. "I have no idea who you are talking about... but Major Zod, he's holding Metropolis hostage. We need to contact your Clark and bring Superman back, right away!"

"But how? I mean, he could be anywhere," I answered sadly. "As much as I want to go home, to go without Clark being there... well, it would almost be as bad as being stuck here."

"Well, when I tracked you here, I realized that Clark Kent had a copy of himself in this dimension," Wells said, glancing at Dean. "Though he isn't Superman, of course, he could give the city of Metropolis some hope."

"And risk his life to do it!" I interjected. "You can't expect Dean to pretend to be Superman!"

"My boy, what do you think? Could you play Superman, just long enough for us to locate the real one and bring him back to Earth?"

*DEAN*

I stared at Lois, and then back at the real HG Wells. My mouth went dry with fear, thinking of the implications... the prospect of playing Superman again, in a world where he actually existed... It was the chance of a lifetime, and yet, not without its own risks.

I sighed, resting my hands on my hips as I thought. "I mean, I could play Clark Kent, no problem. But to put on the suit, in his actual world--" I shook my head. "I don't know. I mean, people will realize pretty quickly that I am not the real Superman."

"I'll help you," Lois interjected, evidently warming to the idea. "I mean, I've seen Clark when he's lost his powers. There are ways... please, Dean. You would be that symbol of hope for Metropolis, until we can somehow get word to my Clark. It would mean a lot to me."

She looked at me with those doe eyes of hers, and I knew I wouldn't say no.

It was the role of a lifetime, after all. I just hoped that I'd make it through it alive.

"All right... when do we leave?"

DEAN

We had stepped out into the alleyway, and HG Wells pushed a few buttons on a little device, and suddenly, we were there... in Metropolis.

I looked up in awe for a few moments, trying to absorb the world around me. The city felt vaguely like New York, but lighter, somehow, maybe full of more innocence. I glanced at the shops around us, not recognizing any of them. The billboards carried advertisements for brands I had never heard of.

One thing was for sure. This definitely wasn't Kansas, Toto.

HG Wells handed me a pair of glasses, which I slipped on. "Remember now, you are Clark Kent. You had been on assignment as far as anyone at the Planet is concerned. You are engaged to Lois Lane. We'll meet later to discuss how we'll use Superman. Meanwhile, I will work on a way to try and contact him. Do you think you can handle it from here, Lois?"

She beamed at Wells. "Yes. I just want to run home and change clothes. I'll take D--I mean, Clark by his apartment as well. Where are the Kryptonians though?"

"Oh they are around, I'm afraid. There is a curfew, I believe. Stay together and you should be fine. Good luck, my dear."

Wells disappeared and suddenly I was standing alone with Lois Lane, on the streets of Metropolis, ready to jump into a role I knew inside and out yet was terrified to play.

"Now it's my turn to ask," Lois said with a smile as she grabbed my arm. "How are you holding up?"

"All right, I suppose. Just... nervous. I mean... I'm really not sure if I can do this..."

"You can. I know you can. Now, let's go get changed."

*LOIS*

I was breathing easier, being back in Metropolis.

Walking alongside Dean, I could almost imagine that things were how they had been before. Clark and I on a story, off to save the world...

I glanced over at him, and could see he was nervously looking around. He was quite unsure of himself, and I felt a pang of sympathy for him.

Clark/Superman were big shoes to fill. I could only hope that HG Wells found my Clark soon, and hopefully before Dean got into any trouble.

I felt a nervous flutter of doubt in my stomach about this whole scheme. Dean was just an average guy -- an actor, no less! He could play the role, but could he convince his audience?

"Here's my apartment," I announced. "You can come up if you like. I'll just be a few minutes."

"Uh, I think I'd better. I'm still trying to wrap my head around all this."

I gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Things will work out. You can do this."

I smiled to myself, proud that I had been so encouraging. It reminded me of the early days of Clark's and my relationship. I was always telling him not to worry that he couldn't measure up to Superman, never knowing how ironic my pep talks were. But Dean was like the naive Clark I thought I had known. I'd have to do my best to navigate him through these unfamiliar waters.

My apartment was just as I had left it, which was a relief. Looking through my mail, it seemed I had been gone a few weeks, even though to me it had only been a few days. I immediately worried about what Perry must be thinking. I ran to my answering machine and listened to my messages.

One from Lucy... two from my mother... Those will have to be answered later. Ah, here we go -- Perry.

"Uh, Lois, we haven't heard a word from you in three days. I've got Inspector Henderson investigating what's going on. Without--- Superman I --well, we're worried about you is all."

My heart went out to Perry, who was like a father to me. I wanted to call him right away, but I knew I needed to have a plausible story lined up about my disappearance.

"Is everything okay?" I jumped at the voice, forgetting that Dean was in my apartment.

"Uh, yeah. It's just Perry, my editor. But of course, you know that... anyway, it seems I was gone for longer than just a few days. I just need to listen to the rest of these messages."

There were a few more worried ones from Perry, and at least two from Jimmy, all within the span of about a week. Had they given up on me? Did they think I was -- dead?

I felt panic begin to rise. Maybe it was impulsive, but the plaintive phone messages really shook me up. I had to at least let Perry know I was alive.

I dialed Perry's direct line.

"Perry? It's Lois. I-"

"Lois! Where in the Sam Hill have you been for the last two weeks?"

"Two weeks? Well, uh, Clark...we, uh--- well, we were on this story and-"

"But you're all right?"

"Yes, everything's fine. Clark's back too, Perry. We'll be in a bit later."

"Good. I need someone to investigate what's going on with these... aliens. I wish to Elvis that Superman were here. They claim to be from the same planet as him. Can you imagine? Well, look, it's good to hear your voice. "

"Yours too, Perry."

I hung up the phone with a sigh. I'd have to have a story prepared for Dean to give Perry as Clark. I know Clark's writing style inside and out, but that wouldn't help unless we came up with a plausible story.

I wandered back into the living room, and saw Dean sitting on the couch, looking uncomfortable in his new environment.

"Are you all right?" I asked, still a bit taken aback at how he looked just like Clark.

"Sure. I suppose so," he said, and then breathed out a heavy sigh. "So what did Perry say?"

"Just that he wants us on this alien invasion story, which is fine by me. I'm hoping they know how to reach Clark. Or will give me a clue as to how to reach him."

Dean suddenly looked up at me, an anxious expression on his face. "Wait. You're not planning to talk to them, are you?"

I nodded firmly. "Absolutely. They are from Clark's planet. Hopefully that means that they know him. I mean, what are the odds that the people from the same planet as Clark's would end up on Earth without knowing something about him?"

Dean's face suddenly went pale with fear. "Lois, you know that I am not really Clark. I am just an actor. I can't--protect you should anything go wrong."

His concern for me was touching, and reminded me of Clark in the days before I knew his secret. Of course then, Clark could have indeed protected me and I always knew that Superman was looking out for me.

"I understand the risks, Dean. But even if I were captured, word could get back to Clark and--"

Dean looked at me in shock. "Wait. That's your plan, isn't it? To get captured so Clark will have to come back. Lois--"

"I know what I am doing. Well, sort of... I just mean, if I can bring Clark back, then it will be worth it."

*DEAN*

I stared at Lois a long moment, completely flummoxed by her proposal.

She was crazy.

And daring.

And... amazing.

No wonder Superman fell for her.

I sighed as I stood up off the sofa.

"So... what do you want me to do?"

"The easy part," she said with a smile. "I'll write up some notes for a story and I'll try to call if I can to update you. You go to the Planet, write the story -- you can write, can't you? -- and play the distressed fiance of Lois Lane."

"Uh, yeah, I can write passably. I wrote a screenplay for our show once. Not that it was the best, but--"

She tore off a piece of paper and slammed it into my chest as she made a grab for her coat. "Great. Then you have experience." She handed me a wad of cash, which looked very different from standard American dollars, and a pocket map of the city. "The Planet is only a few blocks from here. You can walk. Here's some money for food and odd ends. Oh, and here's a key to the apartment. I'll be back if I can. If not, please don't worry about me. I have to bring him back, Dean. Surely you understand?"

Her fingers were resting softly on my chest, and I suddenly found it hard to swallow. Her brown eyes were kind, yet there was a fire lit there, and I knew she wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted. I nodded, feeling numb. I was an actor in a play. I had my lines, and yet the reality of what she was about to do was overwhelming. She would march right into the enemy's camp, and I wouldn't doubt much more, in order to bring Clark Kent back to Earth. I couldn't help but admire her for it. It was one thing to stare down a foe on television, and something else entirely to see that courage real and raw before your eyes.

"Just--be careful," I managed to say, and she answered me with a sad, small smile.

"You sound just like Clark. Before--before I knew, you know?" she said, looking vulnerable and beautiful at the same time. But like someone had dropped a curtain, the look was gone, replaced by steely determination. "Everything will be fine, Dean. You've just got to trust me."

*LOIS*

My words to Dean echoed in my head as I left him to his own devices: *You've just got to trust me. *Trust me to do what? I knew I was being irrational and foolhardy, especially when there was no Superman around to catch me if I fell into the wrong hands... but what I was hoping was that being captured would lead me to Clark. I didn't know how -- he could be light years away by now -- but I knew I had to try.

It was easier than I had expected to find the alien base camp. They were set up right in the middle of the city, overseeing all the goings on of Metropolis. They held the mayor and the chief of police hostage, and threatened to kill them should the city try to reach for outside help. I learned this from a few passersby who were trying to warn me to stay away.

The Kryptonians had taken over the old City Library building, and I tried to head around the back to see if there was an unguarded entrance. But it was swarming with Kryptonians. It was either present myself to them or turn around and head back, and I wasn't about to run away.

"Who's running this popsicle stand, anyway?" I asked boldly to one of the guards.

"Step away, Earth woman," he warned, lifting a strange rifle in my direction.

I lifted my hands in what I hoped was also the intergalactic symbol of surrender and tried to take on a more mild demeanor. "Sorry... I guess what I was trying to say was -- 'take me to your leader.'"

"Major Zod does not speak to Earth people. Move along," he said, turning away from me.

"No, you don't understand. I'm Lois Lane. I'm Cl--I mean, Kal-El's fiancee."

This garnered some interest from the guard, and he signaled to someone else who ran into the building.

"Wait here," he said sternly.

Well, at least this seemed like progress.

A few minutes later, the man who had run inside returned. "Major Zod wants to speak with her."

I was suddenly grabbed by the arm and led into the building. They led me through several corridors until we came to the main library hall. This Major Zod character had set himself up on a makeshift throne of sorts, mostly made of books and nineteenth century furniture. It would have been laughable if the man himself hadn't been so imposing.

"Lois Lane... You are just who I wanted to see."

"Well, that makes two of us... I guess," I said lamely, fearful as to why exactly he wanted to see me.

"I knew Kal-El's father on Krypton. We were actually old friends... until he betrayed me to the Council. My chance at revenge is in taking over this planet -- and seeing Kal-El kneel at my feet."

"Kal-El stands for peace. Whatever...issues you may have from the past, he will only try to make peace with you, not war," I said, frightened by the dark look of hate in the man's eye.

"But he will fight me. He will have to," Zod said darkly.

"Only if you continue to try and take over the Earth. I know Kal-El will find a way to stop you!"

"I only need this city... and you, my dear, are the other piece of the puzzle. As we speak, word is being sent to Kal-El that you are my prisoner."

*DEAN*

Walking into the real Daily Planet was amazingly weird. It looked a lot like our set, except much busier, and the building had a more imposing sense of history to it. The wood paneling didn't just look old, it actually was built in the early twentieth century. In the main hallway, famous articles on everything from World War II to Jimmy Hoffa to the moon landing covered the walls. I was a bit in awe, and felt a tad overwhelmed at the role I was about to play. Even if I had gotten comfortable playing Clark Kent over the last four years, stepping into the man's actual life was entirely different.

I reached the bullpen and tried not to look like I was trying to figure out which desk was mine. I spotted Lois' name plate, and had to do a little circle until I worked out where mine was; it was catty-corner to hers. I sat down in his chair, and got chills up my spine.

This was Superman's desk. He actually existed, and I was playing his alter ego in real life! I let out a huge puff of air, trying to calm myself enough to start writing.

I started to log on to the computer and realized I didn't have Clark's password. I felt a moment's panic, worrying that our little scheme was going to unravel even before it had begun, all because of a password!

I typed in a few obvious ones: LoisLane? Nope... Smallville? Nada. Krypton? Bingo.

I smiled to myself, proud that I had figured out Superman's password. I mean, for a man with many secrets, you'd think he'd be harder to figure out. But like I had played him on the show, what you see is what you get. And I found that oddly comforting.

So now that a small disaster had been averted by finding his password, it was time to get to work.

Lois had handed me a write-up on a story that they-- er, we supposedly had been working on. Luckily, it actually sounded somewhat familiar. Something about Senator Harrington... I used her notes and tried to write up a cohesive story, not having a single clue as to how long it should be or if it was in Clark Kent's style. But I figured she'd edit it before it went to Perry.

Speaking of Perry, he was heading to my desk, and my first test of an actor was about to begin.

Perry White in person was quite impressive. He had a tall, stocky stature and a stern expression to match. You could see that he had seen it all -- wars, presidents, scandals... you name it. The history he had witnessed was stamped on his face. But there was also a kindly, grandfatherly manner about him that reminded me of our Perry on set. I immediately breathed a little easier, stepping back into the role as a sort of adopted son.

"How you been, Clark? Lois tells me a story has been keeping you two busy," he said, though a question seemed to be in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm just writing it up now, Chief," I said, hearing Clark Kent in my head once more.

"Are you sure that's all? I know it's been strange around here since Superman left... I mean, is Lois handling it okay?"

Poor guy. Clark Kent, I mean. He's constantly compared to Superman. He must be one hell of a confident guy to deal with the constant put downs. Clark Kent was Lois' fiance after all.

"Yeah, she's fine, Chief. Really. I mean, we did take a little extra time. Just the two of us to get away. And sorry if you were worried about us. But everything's fine."

I have no idea what made me add in that embellishment, and I regretted it the moment it escaped my lips. Because now I'll have to remember to tell Lois that I had said that, and we'll both have to think of where we could have disappeared to.

"Where is Lois? I thought you two were coming in together."

"Uh, she wanted to investigate these aliens. I told her not to go alone... but she thinks she might be able to reach Superman if she speaks with them." There. Fully convincing that I was part of this bizarre world. Perry looked like he believed me, and I suppressed a smile, feeling almost dizzy that I was really part of a world where men flew and aliens invaded the Earth.

"I wish you had gone with her," Perry started.

I sighed, playing up my Clark Kent. "I tried, Chief. But you know Lois..."

Perry nodded. "Yeah, I know. You can't convince her to do anything she doesn't want to do. Let's just hope her scheme works... And let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"Sure, Chief."

*LOIS*

This really wasn't one of my better ideas...

Zod had dismissed me as carelessly as if I were some offending insect. His guards carried me away, down into the basement of the library. Never had I feared libraries before, but I thought I might develop an aversion to them after this...

The basement smelled damp and was quite chilly. We headed into a poorly lit hallway filled with small caged rooms. I realized this was a book storage area that had been converted into their makeshift prison. I passed by the mayor and the chief of police, both of whom recognized me.

"What's happening in the city, Miss Lane?" the mayor asked anxiously, though he was quickly silenced by the guard with a wave of his strange weapon.

A guard was tugging me roughly by the arm down the hallway, but I wanted to say something to reassure him. "Keeping in good spirits, sir."

I was jerked harder for speaking. "Some evolved people you are! Still treat women like chattel!" I grumbled as they tossed me into my book storage unit -- um, cell.

I slumped onto a tiny shelf, which I realized would also have to double for a bed if I ended up stuck here for too long. The entire width and length of the cell was no more than about four feet. Great if you need to store books. Crappy when you want to store people.

Being captured had been my plan. But for some reason I hadn't really thought through the reality of it. And word was being sent to Clark that I was a prisoner. That was hopeful, even if it was designed to torment him. It would spur him into action nevertheless, and assuming he wasn't galaxies away, he would return to Earth to rescue me.

At least, I hoped so.

As much as I knew Clark loved me, there was a tiny part of me that worried about him not wanting to return. What if he felt more whole with his own people? I know he longed to fit in, and what if his leaving Earth had given him that?

These were my deepest fears, but I knew they were unfounded. Clark loved me. And he loved this planet. If we were in danger, I had to believe that he'd do all in his power to return as soon as could.

And Dean?

I wondered how he was faring at the Planet. I hoped he was able to play a convincing enough Clark to fool Perry. Though I know that not much got past our intrepid editor, it would be way too complicated to try and explain how a Hollywood actor who played Superman on TV ended up in Clark's desk.

I sighed, standing up in my tiny cell, as I tried to look down the narrow hall to see the mayor or the police chief. Some guards were blocking my view.

I looked down at the lock on my cage, and suddenly wished I had long curly hair that required the wearing of bobby pins on a daily basis. The lock was a typical locker padlock. With a small pin, I could pick that thing in no time... Too bad my hair was bone straight.

I sat down again, wondering how long I'd have to wait here until Clark returned. Hours? Days? Weeks?

Dear God, I'd go stir crazy if I had to be here longer than a day.

I sighed again, deciding to try and conserve my strength. I closed my eyes and tried to just think about the moment I'd see Clark in his blue and red coming to rescue me...

*DEAN*

After I finished typing up my piece, I started to relax a bit, feeling like pretending to be Clark Kent wouldn't be so difficult after all.

Colleagues pretty much ignored me, and I was able to sift through some of the archived pieces that the real Lois and Clark had written.

Their writing was really quite good, and after the early pieces, you could start to see how they influenced each other's writing style. Yet, no matter how real the articles were, it was still absurd and astounding to see Superman in the headlines.

I heard the elevator ding open, and saw HG Wells head towards my desk. I got the feeling that every time he showed up, more trouble lay ahead.

"Can we talk privately, my boy?" he asked politely. I nodded and we headed into the conference room. "Well, I believe the Kryptonians are heading to the Planet any moment. I think they plan to get out their message of... well, dominate rule over the people through this paper."

"How did you manage to beat them here?" I asked.

"Well, actually it's conjecture and speculation, really. They took over LNN, and I figured their next logical target would be the Daily Planet. But I have a plan, and I need your help to make it happen," he said, suddenly making me nervous with that determined look in his eye. "We have to make them think that Superman has returned... we need to go to Clark's apartment and stage a little... scene. Are you up for it, my boy?"

I sighed, feeling more anxious than I would have liked. "I guess I have to be. It's why I came, isn't it? Okay, let's get out of here..." I said, as we made our way towards the elevator. "Have you seen Lois?"

"No, I'm afraid not. She may have been captured."

"I think that was her plan all along," I said grimly. "I don't know how Clark puts up with it. Her rashness would drive me crazy," I admitted, knowing full well that I wasn't the Man of Steel, capable of dealing with such an impulsive fiancee.

"No doubt, my boy. No doubt," Wells chuckled.

"Maybe we should take the stairs. It might be faster?"

***

I was dressed as Superman, standing in the real Clark Kent's

apartment.

It was a bit homier than the one I had 'lived' in on set. For one, it had carpet, and a real working dishwasher. It was a bit smaller than the one we had used, and didn't have that cement, basement-like smell that plagued the set. I couldn't help noticing all the details that made the real thing different from the imposter from my world.

Including myself.

I was the imposter here.

Yet I had to be convincing enough to a group of aliens that they couldn't take over this planet; that its protector had returned.

The suit suddenly felt too tight, and I could feel myself cooking up a sweat. Superman doesn't sweat. They'll notice I am not really him. Surely there are a million tells...

Yet, this was a world where no one connected the fact that Clark and Superman looked so much alike. This world was used to being fooled by simply stating what should be the truth.

But would the same logic work on an alien race?

I had to believe that it would.

"Dean? Are you ready, my boy?" HG Wells called from the living room.

I took one last glance in the mirror, wiping my forehead of any sweat that might be there and took a deep breath. It was now or never. I'd had four years to prepare for this role, and now millions of people counted on me making this work.

"They are going to want to meet with me," I hedged, as Wells handed me what would be my script for the ruse.

"Yes, they will. We will delay it as long as possible. And hopefully, Clark is already on his way back to Earth. Are you sure this camera is set up right?" Wells said, looking warily at the hand held camera set up on a tripod.

"Yeah, it will work. Just press the red button... Let's get this over with and sent to LNN as soon as possible."

"Right. All right. I am going to press it in 3, 2--"

The red light came on, and I suddenly felt like I could do this. I had, after all, acted the role a hundred times in front of the camera. What was one more little scene?

We set up the recording space to be in front of a blank wall, so that there was no way to verify where I was speaking from.

"Fellow citizens of Krypton, this is Kal-El. I ask that you leave the people of Earth be, that you leave this planet. I have heard of your taking over the city of Metropolis, and how you have tried to cower its citizens. It will not work. The citizens that I love so dearly are courageous and indomitable. I am returning to Earth to stop you. We will meet soon, and this matter will be settled, once and for all."

I nodded to Wells, who then hit the red button again.

"Well done, my boy. Superman would be proud."

I smiled wryly. "I only did what I have been doing for the last four years. Speak someone else's words. Now let's take this to LNN and get it broadcast right away. Then, I am going to see what I can do about getting Lois Lane set free."

*LOIS*

It was almost nightfall. The basement was dark, but there were a few small windows, high on the wall down by where the guards kept watch.

We had been offered just a bit of bread and water, and eating my meager meal, I suddenly realized how foolhardy I had been.

What had I been I thinking, provoking them like that?

Clark was light years away, and I had no way of knowing if he could come back to Earth. Perhaps we were doomed...

I sighed, hating myself for giving into wallowing. I knew that Clark would want me to stay strong, to believe in him. Of course he'll come back, and he'll put Zod and all the rest of these Kryptonians in their place.

I just had to keep believing that...

*DEAN*

LNN broadcast my video all over Metropolis. As soon as I left the LNN building, I changed out of the Superman costume, suddenly nervous about what we had done. If Superman -- the real Superman--didn't come back, I would have to face General Zod, and I knew I would be quickly discovered as a fraud.

Still, I also knew that Lois had gotten herself captured and I felt I had to do something about it. I had learned a trick or two playing Clark Kent. I felt I should at least try to rescue Lois. Worst case scenario, maybe Superman would come back in time to rescue us both -- it sure had worked often enough for Lois.

Even as I thought it, I shook my head at the absurdity of the situation. I was going to rescue Lois and Superman himself would rescue us if I didn't pull it off?

Where were the cameras? Surely this was a joke, a movie to capitalize on the end of our series... cause no one would believe this back home!

I headed back to the Daily Planet to see if I could dig up a map of the library where Lois was being held. If I was going to be foolhardy, I at least wanted to try to be prepared and foolhardy.

"Kent! In my office, now!" I heard Perry bellow as soon as I hit the bull pen.

No doubt he wanted the Superman scoop, now that the video was out there.

"Yes, Chief?" I asked, stepping into his office where he was wearing a track in the floor with his pacing.

"What do you know about this Superman video? Has it been authenticated?"

"I don't know, Chief. I just saw it on my way back over here."

He stopped a moment in his pacing to look at me. "Back? Where had you been?"

"Uh," I said, uncomfortably, getting a taste of what the real Clark must feel like lying to his editor every day.

"Where's Lois? Have you heard anything?"

"Yes, Chief. She's being held by the Kryptonians, down at the old City Library. I think she went there to try to talk to General Zod."

Perry snorted a half laugh, "Yeah, she would do that, wouldn't she? So... what are you going to do?"

"Well, Chief--"

I didn't have time to tell him my idea, as I saw him suddenly distracted by something going on in the newsroom.

"Great shades of Elvis, I don't believe it," he grumbled, moving past me to head into the bull pen.

I turned around, and was momentarily speechless as there stood my Doppelganger, the real Superman. I felt chills up and down my spine, seeing him in person. He seemed a little taller than me, and his uniform looked a lot sharper than the one I had worn on set, or even the one we had dug up to make the video.

I had this weird feeling of relief, seeing that he really was real -- that there really was a Superman out there, somewhere. During the time I played Superman, I would run into fans quite often. The adults of course understood that I was just an actor, but it was the kids that were always the hardest to meet with. They'd look up at you with hero worship in their eyes, as if you could solve all the world's problems. And you'd have to explain to them that Superman wasn't really real, that you couldn't really fly. And I hated those moments, as it always killed something precious and pure -- their innocence about the world.

And yet, here was standing before me, the real deal. I felt a smile light up my face, knowing that from now on, I could always tell them that Superman did really exist, that I was just his stand-in.

The whole newsroom buzzed to life around Superman, but I saw his eyes searching for one person.

Lois Lane, of course.

I suddenly felt guilty for not making sure Lois had remained safe. How was I to explain that I let her walk right into a trap?

His eyes eventually lit onto me. He had a puzzled expression, which I had expected. With just a hand gesture, he excused himself from the crowd and motioned that I follow him into the conference room.

I didn't know what to say, just staring at him, thinking of all the millions of Superman fans back in my universe who would kill to be standing in my shoes just at that moment. And yet, I would have done anything to change shoes with any one of them. I was so worried that he'd be angry at me for not looking after Lois.

"Are you the Clark from the other dimension, the other Superman?" he asked eventually. It took me a moment to realize what he meant. The story arc we had had on our show with a second Clark, who was also Superman...

"No," I said hastily, lest he think I have superpowers. "It's... even weirder than that..."

He crossed his arms on his chest, waiting expectantly for me to explain. Again, his resemblance to me unnerved me. How many times had I used that pose of intimidation on camera?

"My name is Dean Cain... I... I'm actually an actor, and in my universe--I played you on TV," I managed to get out, the words feeling foreign in my mouth as I tried to wrap my head around what was going on.

He looked at me like I had two heads. I knew that our plots had been often weird and contrived, and I imagined the real Superman had seen any number of strange things and improbable circumstances, but I definitely had him stumped by that admission.

"You played me... on TV?" he asked.

"Yeah... look, Lois can tell you all about it when--"

At her name, his questions about my origins suddenly took a back seat. "Where is she? I went to her apartment first, but she wasn't there."

I sighed, really hoping he was as good a guy as I had always imagined him to be and that he wouldn't grab me by the collar when I told him this next part. "You know Lois... She..."

"Just tell me where she is, Dean," he said in a stern but calm voice that sounded so close to my own, yet still had the power to drive fear into me.

"She went to talk to Zod and got herself captured. She's being held at the City Library. I tried to talk her out of it--"

Superman suddenly smiled, and I had this weird deja vu feeling as I recognized the emotion on his face -- it was one I had often summoned up when secretly admiring the derring-do of our beloved Lois Lane. I felt a smile cross my face in answer, and I wondered why I had worried before about his reaction.

"I know. She didn't listen... Don't worry, I'll get her back... But maybe you can do something for me," he said, beginning to pace. I could tell he was formulating a plan.

"Sure, anything," I answered, feeling a little bit like a fan boy. *I get to help Superman!*

"I will need kryptonite to defeat Zod," he said in all seriousness, adding to the whole weirdness of this turn of events. "Go to Star Labs and explain everything to Dr. Klein... Would you mind reprising your role as me just one more time?"

*LOIS*

I paced in my tiny cell. I was too nervous to try and lie down to sleep, and too cramped to remain in one position. I needed to get out of here!

Perhaps if I demanded to see Zod I'd at least get a chance to walk around...

I looked down the narrow hallway, easily seeing what was going on elsewhere in the room, as the room was just lined with book cages. I still couldn't believe they thought these tiny cages were suitable to hold a person, even if I was a prisoner.

I suddenly had to go to the bathroom, and seeing as they hadn't provided me with any kind of privy, perhaps they'd let me out to use the facilities.

"Hey, you!" I called, drawing the attention of one of the guards.

He stood up from his makeshift desk, towering over the lesser height of the book cages, and glanced at me. The chilling hate in his eyes shook me to my core. I was reminded that these Kryptonians all had Clark's powers. I have and never will be afraid of Clark, but I understand the capabilities of his powers. And those powers wielded in the hands of someone intent on hurting someone was an intimidating prospect, to be sure.

The guard stared me down, waiting for me to continue.

"Um, any way a girl can use the restroom around here?" I said weakly, suddenly trying to convince my bladder that it really didn't need to be emptied at the moment.

My eyes caught a flash of color, and I blinked quickly a few times, not sure of what I had seen. Was that a streak of red and blue? I felt a lurch in my heart, afraid of letting myself hope...

Then, a green glow caught my eye, down by where the guards were standing, causing them to double over suddenly in obvious agony. As quick as light, from the other end of the room, my hopes coalesced as I finally saw him... My Superman, my Clark.

The green glow to my left was gone, and suddenly I was whisked away, down the opposite hallway.

Before I knew it, I was soaring over the spires of Metropolis, held in Clark's arms.

My mind could barely process what had just happened. How had Clark managed with the kryptonite? Was he really here? And would he stay?

I stared at his familiar features, unable to speak for a moment. He had come back to me, just as I knew he would. He was here, and he was real...

As much as Dean had resembled my Clark, there was no replacing him. The way my Clark cradled me to his body, the way his eyes searched mine, as if seeing into my very soul -- all told me that I was at last home and safe.

We didn't speak until we reached my balcony. He gently set me down in front of him, leaning his forehead against mine, each of us breathing in the other's presence. At last, he whispered against my temple, "I missed you."

I looked up into his warm, chocolate eyes, feeling my heart melt into them. My arms slipped around him, under his cape, pulling him close to me. "You returned," I exhaled, my soul filled with relief.

I pulled out of the hug, but didn't let him go. His eyes searched my features, as if reassuring himself that all of me was here too, just as he had left me.

He leaned down, and inevitably, our lips met. He kissed me, full of earnest passion. His arms held me close, gentle yet insistent, his forearm supporting my back. I answered him in equal measure as happy tears slid down my cheeks.

"You came back to me... you came back," I whispered in between kisses.

"I had to... you knew I would," he reassured me, his lips alternating between my lips, my neck, my chin, like warm points of light surging through my body.

He pulled out of our kisses after a moment, his eyes serious, as his thumb caressed my cheek, my face cradled in his hand. "Lois, I have to go back. Dean--"

My head was still dizzy from his kisses, and it took me a second to remember Dean. "Oh! So you met him?"

He smiled wryly. "How else do you think I managed with kryptonite nearby? But I have to go back. I have to face off with Zod, and Dean is going to help me do it."

"Clark, are you sure you can do that? I mean, with kryptonite so close..."

"We've already got a plan worked out. Just... promise me, you'll stay out of the way," he said in that patronizing way that annoyed as much as comforted, knowing he was just trying to look out for me.

"Why do you even say that? You know I need to get this story..." I challenged him, but with a smile -- still thrilled beyond words that he had returned.

"Lois..." he grumbled. "Fine. But stay out of the way," he conceded, sweeping me up into his arms as we flew back towards the library.

*DEAN*

I stared at the kryptonite in my hand, mesmerized by its very real existence. It was darker than how Hollywood had imagined it, and the crystals were less pronounced. However, it had amazingly done the trick and incapacitated the Kryptonians guarding Lois.

It would also keep me safe from any other Kryptonians until Superman returned so we could finish the rest of our plan.

My mouth went dry with anticipation, wondering how I could explain all this to anybody when I get back. Who would even believe me?

Just then, I saw Superman landing a safe distance away from me, carrying Lois. I felt a smile on my lips, seeing the two of them together. It was like seeing a reflection of Teri and me, and yet there was so much more there. Perhaps what I was seeing was the love they had for each other.

"Are you ready?" Superman asked, as Lois approached me.

"Are you sure you know what you are doing, Dean?" Lois said skeptically, eyeing the kryptonite in my hand.

I shook my head. "I haven't a clue... but he seems to," I said, gesturing towards Superman.

She nodded with a sigh. "OK, so what is the plan?"

"You stay with Dean," Superman said, still keeping a safe distance from the kryptonite. "I will go in and confront Zod. I will have to fight him, to prove to the other Kryptonians that I am their leader. When I hear our back-up arriving -- I informed the authorities of our plan -- Dean will follow with the kryptonite. If I can get Zod to yield and promise to leave Earth, then it will be over..."

"And if you can't?" Lois asked pointedly. "What then? He doesn't seem like the type to concede easily."

Superman sighed, and for the first time, I saw the man under the suit, the man who isn't always sure of his choices.

"I will do what I have to do to see that Earth is safe," he said quietly.

They say reading about heroes makes you feel like you can be one of them. Seeing one in person, gives you the humility to realize that it is never easy to be a hero. I understood that now.

Superman glanced at me and nodded. "All right. I'm ready. Let's finish this."

*LOIS*

I kept eyeing the kryptonite in Dean's hand, worried how this would all turn out. How could we be sure that Clark could get far enough away from Zod before Dean had to use it?

I touched Dean's arm, to get his attention. "I know you pretended to be hurt by kryptonite on your show... But Dean, the real thing... it's --"

His warm hand covered mine, reassuring me. "I know. Don't worry. I'll be careful," he said in warm tones, sounding so much like Clark.

We had hung back quite a bit to ensure that Clark wouldn't be affected by the kryptonite. When he reached the main library, we made our way to the other side, through the hallway that surrounded the main stacks. We would be behind Zod, hopefully giving Clark the advantage if there were residual effects from us being nearby.

Superman was confronting Zod, and Zod did not seem at all amused that he had returned. "Why ever should I leave? These people are serving me nicely... here, I can rule. Here, I have power!"

"I exercise the Right of Challenge, Zod. I have the right to fight you... and I demand to have that right acknowledged," I heard Clark demand.

"Indeed," came the smug answer. "Fine, the victor that emerges from this chamber shall rule Earth."

"I don't want to rule Earth. But I will fight for the right for the people of Earth to live free."

"So shall it be done."

*DEAN

*So, they would fight each other, much like I had fought Lord Nor on our show. But Clark had had no training in physical combat, like I had had with Ching. Clark may not understand how ruthless Zod would be. He would fight to the death, and Clark would do all in his power not to let it end that way.

"Lois, Zod will try to kill him... Clark has to understand that," I whispered to Lois.

She was peeking around the bookshelves to watch what was happening with her hero. "It's up to him now. And us..." She turned to me suddenly, "Who is the back-up we are waiting for, and when are they coming?"

"Inspector Henderson and a dozen or so police. But they can't get near this place without kryptonite... They are in the process of trying to secure the rock that Lex Luthor had... I took the only rock from Star Labs. I think Luthor's is held in a vault at the Courthouse, but there is some bureaucratic tape that must be dealt with first..."

She looked at me with a shocked expression. "Do they understand what we are dealing with here? We don't have time for bureaucratic tape!"

"Lois, the less kryptonite on the scene, the better, actually. I am hoping it won't come to them needing to back us up... If there is a lot of it in the area, it could hurt Clark as well."

She nodded her understanding, and I could see the memories of other times when Clark had been confronted with the green poison evident in her eyes. "I know...," she said softly. "So, what is your plan?"

I handed her the kryptonite. "Hold this while I go change, would you?"

She took it, horror crossing her features as she tossed it back to me. "Dean! You can't -- I mean, he'll know you are not him!"

"I know... that is the point. Fake him out for a moment, so I can get close enough to expose Zod to the kryptonite. Don't blame me. It was your fiance's idea."

*LOIS*

I don't know what is worse... Clark acting foolishly or Dean following suit...

*DEAN*

I put on the spare suit that I had worn to make the video earlier. Clark had given me a yellow belt with a small pouch that I put the kryptonite in, hiding it behind my back under the cape, along with my Clark Kent glasses. I would have the appearance of Superman, yet the kryptonite would render Zod powerless.

Still, it didn't mean that I wasn't nervous about playing the part...

I was in the hallway changing, but I could hear things were heating up inside. I heard the sound of fighting and the clang of something like swords.

I knew I was taking too long to get into the suit, but the cape was giving me trouble. I usually had someone to help me put it on.

Giving up on putting it on myself, I stepped inside, seeing if Lois could help me, when I heard her scream. I glanced over to where we had been crouching, and saw that one of Zod's goons had grabbed her. The cape was slung over my arm, but I tossed it aside as I ran over to her. The kryptonite sitting in my belt pouch, weakened the soldier, and Lois gave him a swift kick in the groin.

Just as she assured me she was safe, I saw her eyes grow in alarm as she pointed over my shoulder. "Clark!"

I turned around and saw that Zod had Superman on the ground, backed into a corner. If I neared them, Superman would also be affected by the kryptonite. However, if I didn't do something, Zod might run him through anyway.

"Zod! I'm over here!" I called across the room using my best Superman voice. My heart was going a mile a minute with a sudden kick of adrenaline. I felt exposed as well without the cape on my back.

Zod looked up, looking puzzled a second as he realized there were two Supermen. It gave Clark the chance he needed to get away, though I noticed he didn't fly, but rather stumbled off towards Lois. I think the kryptonite must have affected him a bit, for when I turned to Zod, he too looked weaker. He gave a better effort at not showing it, though. As I neared, he fell to his knees.

"What... are you doing to me? Who--"

I took the handcuffs off the belt Clark had procured earlier from Inspector Henderson and put them on Zod. "Your rule here is over, Zod. Leave Earth," I said, relishing the words. "Kal-El has returned, and he has bested you. If you have any honor, you will leave peaceably."

I forced him to his feet, though I felt a bit guilty at how badly the kryptonite was affecting him. I had imagined it many times on set, what it must feel like, and I had always conjured the feeling of a splitting headache with all over muscle weakness. But seeing the effects in real-life, I think it must be even worse than that.

Superman and Lois were nowhere to be found, as I had assumed they wanted to clear out if the authorities came with even more kryptonite. Though I felt a bit nervous, knowing I had the Kryptonian leader at my mercy. If his soldiers attacked me, despite the green poison, would I stand a chance?

I headed outside, and much to my relief, Inspector Henderson and MPD were standing by. Before we stepped outside, I put on Clark's glasses, hoping to reinforce the illusion that it was just Clark Kent helping out Superman. Maybe not having the cape on would help that image as well. As we stepped onto the library steps, half of the police force held some small portion of kryptonite, leading me to assume they had obtained the rock and busted it up to split among them.

"What do you want to do with him, Henderson?" I called, though attempting to sound a little more like mild-mannered Clark Kent.

Henderson approached, motioning to his men to stand down. I saw a group of Krptonians surrounded by guards with kryptonite. We had them at our mercy now, to be sure.

"General Zod, is it?" Henderson asked my captive warily. "Will you and your people promise to leave this planet?"

"Kal-El has won..." Zod said weakly. He mumbled something in what I assumed was Kryptonian, and a huge shadow appeared over the library out of nowhere. It seemed something sinister was going to happen, but suddenly, all of the Kryptonians vanished into thin air. The shadow overhead fell through the clouds, revealing a large, black spaceship. It hovered over the library for a moment, causing all nearby to look up in fear.

Then suddenly, with a whoosh sounding like fifty helicopters taking off, it disappeared into the sky.

The police slowly lowered their weapons, staring at the sky above us as we all tried to make sense out of what had just happened.

When they seemed to think the aliens were gone for good, a few men moved into the building, presumably to free the remaining prisoners.

Dr. Klein appeared, coming out of one of the patrol cars. "Clark! I'm glad it worked!" He carried with him a large lead box. "I'll collect the kryptonite. The City has agreed that it will be safer at Star Labs, where only Superman can have access to it."

I nodded in agreement, wryly handing over my piece of the strange green rock. I almost wanted to take it with me when I go back... but I knew I would see Clark and Lois first, and I simply wouldn't bring it near them again.

"Thank you for your help, Clark," said Henderson. "I know you are eager to get back to the Planet to write your story, but I have just a few questions..."

***

I made my way back to the Planet, actually quite thrilled with the idea of writing up the story. I know Lois will want to have her stamp on it, and I kind of relished the idea of writing up my own Superman story.

I was formulating in my mind how I should begin the story, when I saw HG Wells appear, a few blocks before I reached the Planet. I felt a wave of disappointment, knowing that my time here was coming to an end.

I sighed as I approached him. "Do I at least get to say goodbye to Lois and Clark first?"

"Of course, my boy. Of course."

***

As we walked along to Lois' apartment, I tried to imprint in my mind as much of the city of Metropolis as I could. I wanted to remember this place forever, knowing that it was unlikely I would ever see it again.

The sounds of the cars, the height of the buildings... even the blue sky -- all seemed different to any city I knew back home, rendered as they were against the backdrop of being Superman's city. Here, you can even believe a man can fly...

We climbed the steps to Lois' apartment and rang her bell.

"Dean! I was afraid you had left us already!" Lois cried, giving me a hug in greeting.

Clark was in his normal clothes, sitting on the sofa. He nodded in my direction as I came in.

"Thank you for your help today. I don't know how I would have managed without you."

"You would've found a way."

"Maybe..." he said, though he looked doubtful. Lois came to sit next to him. Their eyes met, and Wells and I both felt a little like intruders.

"So... I guess it is time to say goodbye," I said reluctantly. "I don't think 'thank you' are the appropriate words... yet somehow, they are right."

"How so?" Lois asked.

"Well, thank you for being... you, I guess. It was so hard for me to let the show go. But this experience... it is one I will carry with me forever."

"Oh Dean! Thank you for taking care of me! When Tempus--" Lois suddenly jumped up, looking at Wells. "What are we going to do about Tempus?"

"Don't worry, Lois," Wells assured her. " I caught up with him before I found you and he is standing trial, even as we speak. Well, sometime in the future anyway."

"Then I guess there is nothing left but to say goodbye," Lois said softly, coming over to me. She gave me a hug, and I could see Clark looking on, a knowing smile on his face.

"What?" I couldn't help asking.

He shook his head, laughing. "Nothing. It's just ...did you really play me on a television show?"

"Yep. You're a big deal where I'm from. Everything from comic books to movies. You're an American icon."

"Hmm... An American icon, huh? Well, I guess that means if I ever need a backup career, there's always television!"

*LOIS*

After Dean left, Clark went to get us some Chinese food from that nice little place he knows... in China.

He flew back a short while later, giving me the time I needed to change into a cute black dress and light a few candles. I put on a Frank Sinatra CD, and the song that Clark and I had danced to on a night long ago started to play...

*Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On a, Jupiter and Mars

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me*

"Would you like to dance?" I asked him, suddenly feeling breathless.

Still in his Superman suit, he set the Chinese food down on the table and took me in his arms. We danced quietly a moment, enjoying being together again. "I saw many things on my time away from Earth... and I'll tell you about all of it some other time," he said softly, his breath warm on my cheek. "But for now, all I want to do is hold you close to me."

*Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

In other words, please be true

In other words, I love you.*

We swayed to the music, and I suddenly felt us lift off the ground, ever so gently. "Now this is dancing," I said, my heart filling with anticipation.

"That's my line," he teased gently, leaning down to kiss me.

We lingered in the air, moving to the music, lost in the moment. As the song ended, Clark brought us back down to earth. I felt a sense of melancholy fill me, and I could tell he sensed it.

"What is it?"

I moved over to the table and started unpacking our dinner, courtesy of Superman Express. "I just... I just can't lose you again, Clark. I have to know... you are staying, right? You aren't going to leave me again at the first sign of trouble on some distant star are you?" I feared I sounded clingy and insecure, but I couldn't help it. I had to know that he was committed to us... not just me and him, but Metropolis. Earth. "I mean, you didn't meet some other woman while you were out there, did you?"

He looked at me incredulously, and I suddenly felt very foolish. "Lois, I couldn't wait to get back to Earth. It was all I could think about... I tried to fit in with the other Kryptonians, but -- I am Clark Kent, first and foremost. And all I want is to get married to you."

"Really?" I asked in a small voice, not trusting myself not to cry.

"Really...now, let's have some dinner... and then, perhaps we can play among some stars of our own."

*DEAN*

I was back.

HG Wells disappeared in a small spark of light, and I was back, standing in my condo alone.

I let out a sigh, trying to process all that I had witnessed.

Superman was real.

Lois Lane was an amazingly real woman.

I walked over to my collection of video tapes, thinking I might watch an episode of my show, but I suddenly didn't really want to. I had the memory of seeing those characters that I loved so much, that I had poured so much heart and soul into, become real.

A picture caught my eye on the mantle, one I didn't remember putting there. It was me and Teri. Or so I thought... but upon closer inspection, I realized it was from the night of the wrap-up party, when Lois herself had accompanied me.

"You sly old man," I said aloud, marveling at how I thought it had gotten there. It had to have been Wells.

I had a memento to carry with me forever.

To remember a dear friend, and a character I deeply loved.

"Thanks, Wells. Wherever you are."

***

A few weeks later, Teri and her husband were on their way over for drinks and dinner. As I straightened up and planned for dinner that day, the picture of me and the real Lois at the wrap-up party kept catching my eye. I debated whether I should leave it out, knowing that Teri might eventually ask about it.

I played out the scenario a dozen times in my head:

*"Dean, I don't remember this photo. When was this taken?"*

I would flounder a moment, unsure where to begin. Then I'd sigh and walk over to her, with her husband looking on.

*"Teri, you're never going to believe this..."*

Every scenario I played out ended badly. She'd laugh, or say I was drunk. She and her husband would worry I was obsessing over the show, or worse, her. No matter how I tossed it around, I always came up looking crazy or desperate.

So right before they came, I took the picture and hid it in a desk drawer.

We talked and reminisced for hours that night. We all joked and laughed and told stories, though I kept one story entirely to myself.

I also realized something else that night that was entirely revelatory to me.

As much as loved talking to Teri and enjoyed her company, I was relieved to realize that I wasn't in love with her. I never had been.

It had been Lois Lane that I was crazy about.

Teri had brought her to life, and I had fallen for the character.

I felt so... free.

For months I had carried around all this guilt that I had stepped over a line with my feelings for Teri. She was such a good friend, that if she ever had noticed, I know she'd never say anything. Neither would her husband.

And they were both so in love.

What an idiot I had been... wallowing in all that guilt.

Still, there was a hole in my heart, as I longed to find someone who could play my co-star in real life.

And even though I know a real Lois Lane is out there, I know she has found her Clark Kent.

I was reminded of a story line we had wanted to do, if we had continued on for five seasons. We had intended on finding the Clark Kent from the other universe -- the one whose parents had died when he was a kid -- his Lois Lane, by having HG Wells time travel to save her from being killed on a story in the Congo.

If there are parallel worlds -- and my experience proved to me there are -- then there seems to be just one logical answer.

My Lois Lane was out there somewhere.

And all I needed to do was find her.

THE END

The following story –

“Fire Drill”

by – SueS

was Nominated in the:

Best Short Stories,

and

Best First Kiss,

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Fire Drill

Rating: PG13 for impure thoughts and a little action

Timeline: First season, a few weeks after PML

In 'Pheromone, My Lovely', Clark comes to work the day after everyone gets sprayed to find the newsroom has become a love-in. Lois sits on his lap and repeatedly attempts to nuzzle his neck while he's valiantly trying to figure out what the heck is going on. The way Clark multi-tasks a conversation with Jimmy while gently keeping Lois at bay amuses me every time I watch it. Lois is still on Clark's lap after we see Lex arrive, so I like to think it's possible that she managed to get her lips on him at some point. For the purposes of this story, she totally did.

This was meant to be my Fall Ficathon story. Now it's my contribution to the May WAFFy challenge. I swear, the older I get, the slower I write. In another year or two, I'll be lucky to squeeze out a word a day.

I'm still inflicting a story on my long-suffering betas and I didn't want to torture them further by adding this to the mix. I therefore beg the reader to forgive any faults they find herein.

<><><>

The morning bullpen session was winding down when Perry cast a swift look at the door before lowering his tone. "Now y'all didn't hear it from me, but there's going to be a fire drill today." He fixed the reporters gathered around the conference table with a hard stare. "And, this time--" Perry's gaze landed on Lois. "--everyone is going to participate. And I mean everyone." His attention shifted to Clark. "Do you get me?"

"Yes, Chief," all fourteen reporters dutifully answered with one voice.

Clark tried not to squirm in his chair. The last fire drill had not gone well. He'd been halfway down the stairs when he'd heard an actual fire alarm a few blocks away. He'd never been able to explain his absence satisfactorily to Perry. Short of telling his editor the truth, he was going to have to gut this one out and stick around for roll call.

Lois had a different excuse -- she simply hadn't left her desk. She had been working for hours on a story and no amount of Perry's bluster could convince her to participate when she was, as she put it, 'in the middle of a streak of brilliance.'

"Unbelievable," Lois muttered under her breath as everyone returned to the newsroom. "Why the sudden interest in workplace safety? If they're so concerned for our health and welfare, why are they doing this on a rainy day?"

Clark would have replied, but that would mean admitting that he could hear her. He flashed Lois a sympathetic smile instead as she moved past his desk towards her own. Then he sat back to enjoy the view for the next five seconds. Heaven knew he didn't pay much attention to fashion, but if he ever met the designer who revived miniskirts, he was going to buy them a drink. Working at the Planet came with all kinds of perks that had not been mentioned during his interview: free coffee and pastries, an expense account, and -- at least twice a week -- the thrilling opportunity to observe Lois Lane's legs.

Once Lois' lower half was safely tucked beneath her desk, Clark picked up a pencil and made a half-hearted effort to switch his brain from his partner to the looming mass transit strike.

"Hey, Clark?"

He looked up to see Lois had turned at her desk to face him. The long, toned line of her right calf was again on display. In an instant, all thoughts about mass transit and the poor schmucks who couldn't simply fly themselves to work disappeared from his thoughts. "Yes?"

"What was the name of that city inspector? The one we met with Monday about the sinkhole in Astoria?"

"David Lewis?"

"Yes! Thank you." Lois flashed him a grateful smile and reached for her Rolodex. That movement produced a faint rustling sound, one that only Clark heard because he was desperate and lonely enough to be actively listening for it. The pencil he'd been holding dropped from his suddenly weakened fingers.

For nearly a month now Clark had been fighting a losing battle -- one that Lois didn't even know she was winning. She'd no doubt be horrified to learn that not a single night had passed since she'd performed the Dance of the Seven Veils that he didn't relive the entire event, albeit with a new ending. Sometimes he surrendered to her seduction the moment he opened his front door. Sometimes he waited until the last veil had dropped. Sometimes Lois wasn't repulsed the next morning when his last shred of willpower disappeared and he propositioned her.

And sometimes -- like now -- he could hear a seductive echo of the gold beaded top she had worn that night. His rational mind told him it was only the faint rasp of her clothes as she moved. But his imagination was ever eager and willing to conjure up the shimmy and sway of a scantily clad Lois at the slightest provocation.

Fueled by that memory -- and the hope of a glimpse of cleavage -- Clark got up and walked over to perch on the corner of Lois' desk. "Why do you need to talk to David Lewis? Aren't we supposed to be working on the transit strike?"

Lois made a face. "Unless they actually go on strike, there's not much to report, is there? I think a third sinkhole in as many days warrants a little attention."

She had a point there. However, her sense of timing was more than a little suspect. "Oh, I get it." Clark gave her a knowing smile.

Her eyes widened in faux innocence. "Get what?"

"You're going to skip the fire drill."

For a moment it looked like she was going to deny it. Then she leaned forward and asked in a conspiratorial tone, "You wanna join me?"

And there was the glimpse of cleavage he'd been hoping for! Clark had to swallow to work free his voice before squeaking out, "Sure."

An alarm went off. Okay, yes, this was a bad idea. Sooner or later, he was going to have another weak moment. But -- and this was the hope that he clung to -- somewhere, deep down, Lois was equally as attracted to him. She never would have shown up at his apartment that night if there wasn't something there.

It wasn't until Lois swore under her breath and stood up that Clark realized that, in fact, the ringing sound wasn't his guilty conscience. It was the fire drill.

"Let's go, people!" Perry barked from a few feet away, startling Clark out of sneaking another peek at Lois' legs. "Everyone out. Use the stairs."

Lois shot Perry a dirty look, but turned and headed for the stairwell. Clark followed close behind her, bemused as he saw that she had grabbed her purse, but was leaving her coat behind. "Maybe you should bring your coat?" he suggested as they shuffled with their coworkers up the ramp.

She glanced over shoulder at him. "Are you kidding? We're only going to be out there for five minutes."

<><><>

A steady, cold drizzle of rain was falling, so the Planet's employees were herded into the parking garage for roll call. Once everyone had been accounted for, they impatiently waited as the alarm continued to shrill. As the minutes passed, the rumble of the crowd became more discontented, but the safety monitors resolutely blocked the doors back inside. Even if it was a drill, no one could return to the building until the alarm was shut off. To Lois' great irritation, more than a few of her coworkers began to light up cigarettes, even though signs posted throughout the parking garage clearly designated it as a no smoking area. Waving her hands in annoyance did nothing to either clear the air or encourage them to extinguish their cancer sticks.

Fed up, Lois stomped to the far end of the garage where the air wasn't polluted. She glumly stared out at the rain and shivered against the damp chill of the air. A little voice in her head mocked her that Clark had been right -- she should have brought her jacket. Just then, something settled across her shoulders and she jumped in surprise. Her grip tightened on her purse and she turned around, ready to wallop her attacker if she needed to. Clark's hands shot up in surrender and he took a step back.

"Oh!" she gasped as she realized that he had laid his suit coat across her shoulders. It was still warm from his body and smelled faintly like his aftershave. She shivered again, but this time it wasn't from the cold.

The warmth and smell of his jacket brought into sharp focus the fragment of a memory that had been haunting her for the past few weeks. She was sitting on Clark's lap while he looked through some photos. He turned his head and she kissed his neck. Even now, she could practically feel the heat of his skin and the thrum of his pulse beneath her lips. She still couldn't decide if it was a mercy or just plain old unfair that the rest of those two days were a blur. The only other thing she could really remember distinctly was waking up on Clark's bed in that skimpy costume.

The memory of that morning set off another shiver. The first thing she'd seen when she woke up was a wood-beamed ceiling. It had only taken a few seconds for her to realize that was Clark's ceiling and she was sprawled across his bed. For a heart-stopping moment she had been convinced that she'd slept with Clark. The shock of that thought swiftly turned to disappointment because she didn't remember any of it. Her head had been pounding with the world's worst hangover, which was why she sometimes wondered if she had dreamed up what happened next. She had barely stood up before she'd been caught in a strong pair of arms. And then Clark had uttered the words that still seemed to echo in her ears: "Lois, I can't take it anymore. If you really want me, I'm yours."

It all felt like a fever dream. She might even have been able to convince herself that it was a product of her over-active imagination except for two things. One, she'd had to return the rented costume. And, two, she couldn't shake her one perfect moment of recall from those lost hours -- the taste and texture of Clark Kent's neck.

Now, standing only a couple of feet away from the man himself, Lois barely managed to stifle a sigh. Since that morning -- with the thrilling exception of a stolen kiss in the honeymoon suite of the Lexor -- Clark had been an absolute gentleman. Sure, that kiss had been a ruse, but she liked to think he'd meant a little of it. He could have simply pulled the covers over the surveillance equipment to hide it. Throwing her on the bed and kissing her senseless had been overkill.

God, she had to admire his attention to detail.

At this moment she had a perfect view of that tantalizing spot on his neck. It was just above his collar and in front of his left ear. All at once Lois realized she was staring at his neck, so she directed her attention to his face.

"Thanks," she managed to squeak out.

His dark eyes met hers as he gave her the smile that always made her stomach flutter. "Anytime."

Suddenly Lois was too flustered to keep looking him in the eye. She tried to look away, only to have her gaze wander unerringly to that spot on his neck.

"Aren't you cold now?" she asked even though she really didn't want to give back his jacket. Her gaze darted back to his face and her breathing turned shallow. His expression had become tender, and that was even sexier than having him smile at her.

"I'll be fine." Clark smiled again and her knees wobbled in response. "Besides, I'm not the one who's shivering." His hands took hold of the lapels of his jacket, tugging it closed in the front before coming to lightly rest just above her breasts.

Oh god, it wasn't just her knees that had gone weak. Her entire body suddenly felt heavy. Her purse dropped from her grasp. Lois swayed back slightly so the outer wall of the parking garage could support her. To her immense disappointment, Clark let go of the jacket to bend over and pick up her purse.

"Am I?" she whispered. She was shaking all right, but it wasn't from the cold.

"Do you have your keys?" Clark straightened up and held her purse out to her. "Maybe you should sit in your car until they let us back in the building."

"I'll be fine," she mumbled. "We shouldn't be out here much longer anyway."

Lois took the purse back and, not entirely trusting herself to keep a grip on it, she set it on the ledge behind her. When she turned around, her gaze returned to his neck. What would it be like to kiss him there again? Did he really taste as darkly sweet as her memory insisted? It was entirely possible that the pheromone perfume had muddled her mind and kissing his neck a second time wasn't going to be nearly as erotic as she remembered it.

She was distracted from her gawking when his right hand rose to rub his temple. Lois could empathize. The sound of the alarm echoing through the garage was extremely annoying. "You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. I guess that alarm is getting to me."

Before she could think better of it, Lois had said, "Here, let me…" and grabbed his left hand to pinch the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. "My grandma taught me this one. It's supposed to distract you from the pain, I guess." Clark's hand was warm in hers and his fingers curled slightly, brushing gently against her palm. She couldn't quite meet his gaze now that she was holding his hand, so she asked that spot on his neck, "Does this help?"

She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "It's… distracting."

<><><>

Clark wasn't lying -- it was distracting. Everything about the past few minutes was distracting. He had expected a brusque 'thanks', or maybe even a rejection, when he'd placed his jacket on her shoulders. Instead, Lois' dark eyes had looked up at him just like they had the night she'd danced in his apartment. It wasn't until she took a step back that he realized how forward he was being; how possessive the gesture of holding closed his jacket was. He had instantly let go in favor of retrieving her purse, but her slightly dazed expression when he stood back up gave him hope that maybe he hadn't crossed a line after all.

Especially now when her cool fingers on his hand were the perfect distraction from the shrill bleating of the fire alarm. He watched, utterly fascinated, as Lois bit her lower lip. It wasn't just her legs that distracted him on a daily basis -- it was also her mouth. The few brief kisses they had shared -- and one long passionate embrace as Superman -- had him watching her lips nearly as often as he watched her legs. He never would have kissed her like that as Superman, if he hadn't already reached the limits of his self-control. He'd been aching to kiss her ever since she'd come to her senses in his apartment and rejected him.

That kiss had been enough to build a thousand fantasies around. Now he knew for certain what it felt like to kiss her deeply. He had memorized the silk of her hair passing through his fingers, the press of her body to his, and the sweet, sure clasp of her arms around his neck. He had dipped her during that kiss, simply to be able to have the weight of her in his arms, and she had surrendered to his boldness without even seeming to think about it. He ranked that perfect moment right above the first time he'd realized he could fly. Both experiences had made him giddy with delight.

He'd give anything -- anything -- to kiss her like that again.

Just then, before he could process what was happening, Lois had gone on tiptoe and was pressing her mouth to his neck. Clark froze, uncertain what was happening, but absolutely certain he wasn't about to stop her. All too soon, she stepped back and the heat of her kiss was gone.

"Oh my gosh, Clark. I'm sorry," Lois said, letting go of his hand to cover her mouth in apparent shock. "I'm so sorry."

"Are you still trying to distract me?" If she was, it was definitely working. He felt off-kilter, as though the concrete floor of the parking garage had suddenly shifted.

She gazed down at her feet and shook her head. "No, that wasn't it. I'm sorry. Truly."

Thoroughly confused, he asked, "Then what was it?"

"I--" Lois shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just wanted to see if it would be the same."

"The same?"

"The perfume…"

His heart began to pound hard in his chest as he realized what she was talking about. She had kissed his neck when she was under the influence of Miranda's perfume.

"Most of what happened that day with the perfume is a blur." Lois had started to twist her hands together in agitation. "But I thought I remembered… kissing your neck." Her voice trailed off and he saw her gaze dart to where she had just kissed him.

His recollections of those two days were a kaleidoscope of memories destined to keep him awake at night for the next fifty years. There were so many incredible little moments to recall - the length of her leg across his desk, the press of her body against his while she tried to convince him to play hooky -- those moments often got pushed aside in favor of remembering her striptease or their kiss at the airport. But the feel of her lips on his neck was something he wasn’t likely to forget any time soon. Especially now that it had happened three times.

"Which time?" he asked.

<><><>

"What?" Lois' eyes went wide in horror. "Which time?"

Clark looked a little dazed, and Lois wasn't sure if it was from his headache or if he was confused at having just been sexually harassed by her. His eyebrows knit together as he nodded. "Once at my desk, and then again when you, uh, when you danced for me."

At that moment, the alarm finally fell silent. The sudden stillness seemed to shimmer around them. For a few brief seconds Lois dared to hope that she had heard him wrong. But then another of her hazy memories came into sharp focus. She had kissed his neck twice. She had thrown veil number five around his shoulders, gone on tiptoe, and gone for the jugular. Only that instance hadn't been a brief peck. She'd taken her time, applied some suction, and ended with a soft little nip of teeth.

"Oh my gosh," she muttered as her cheeks grew heated.

Clark gave her an expectant look. "So… was it the same?"

She shook her head miserably. "No, I don't think so."

He seemed disappointed by her answer, if the sudden slump to his shoulders was any indication. "Oh."

What in the world had she been thinking, kissing his neck just now? And, to top it all off, she'd lied to him. Kissing his neck had been exactly what she remembered; heightened this time by the weight of his jacket on her shoulders and the heat of his skin contrasting so sharply against the chilly air. The fact that they were about to be the last two people still in the parking garage was making her mind race. What if she did it again? Told him she needed a second try, just to be certain? Would he tease her about it?

Come to think of it… Why wasn't he teasing her now? Here was the perfect opportunity for Clark to mock her and yet he seemed more interested in cataloging the experience than exploiting her shame for his amusement. Why had he been so disappointed when she'd lied about it being disappointing? For that matter, why was he keeping track of how many times she'd kissed his neck?

//"Liar! You are so attracted to me!//"

What if she'd been right when she'd confronted him about finding her attractive after the perfume fiasco? He'd denied it, but all the evidence was against him. More than once since he'd started working at the Planet she'd looked over at his desk to find Clark watching her. He usually looked away, sometimes he even blushed. So was he attracted to her or not?

"After the spray wore off," Lois said slowly, puzzling her way aloud through a maelstrom of conflicting information, "you told me that you weren't attracted to me."

Clark swallowed, but his eyes met hers, his expression cautious. "That might have been a lie," he said quietly.

Lois frowned at him. "Why would you lie about that?"

He shrugged helplessly. "I didn't think you wanted me to be attracted to you."

"You made it sound like I wasn't attractive at all."

Clark shook his head slightly. "That was never my intent."

"So are you attracted to me?"

Lois could have sworn his eyes darkened just a little. She definitely heard his sharp intake of breath. His lips parted, but he didn't say anything.

"Even just a little?" she pressed. "Somewhere, deep down, in some part of you that you don't acknowledge unless you're drunk or in a really, really good mood?"

His eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head. "I've never been drunk."

Lois shook her head impatiently. She was about to let him change the subject. "You didn't answer the question."

<><><>

How should he answer that question? Clark couldn't think of anything, especially not now when his entire being was singing with the knowledge that Lois Lane had kissed his neck simply to gauge the experience against the first time she'd done it. That meant that she had thought about that little bit of necking. Heck, she must have thought about it a lot. Enough to be consumed by curiosity. Enough to throw caution to the wind and waylay him in the parking garage. And now she wanted to know if he found her attractive? Had she really not been paying attention for the past six months?

There only seemed to be one way to answer her question. Scratch that. There was only one way Clark wanted to answer that question. So, as suddenly and recklessly as she had thrown herself at Superman at the airport, he had pulled her against him and bent his head to kiss her.

Lois didn't even seem to hesitate. In the space of a heartbeat, she had thrown her arms around his neck. Clark cupped the back of her head with his left hand while his right shifted to catch his coat as it slipped from her shoulders. Now that his hand was in the vicinity of her back, it seemed like the right call to use it to brace her. Her mouth opened beneath his and she tasted just as sweet as he remembered.

Just like at the airport, Clark turned her and tilted her back. And, just like at the airport, she melted into his arms. Her fingers stroked through his hair, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. Soft exploration gave way to hunger. Breathless and dizzy, Clark began to pull away. Lois caught his lower lip in one last, lingering tug as he brought her upright again. They parted, both breathing heavily. He adjusted his jacket so it was across her shoulders again. Just like before, he brought it closed in the front, only this time he didn't let go, savoring the possessive nature of the gesture.

"What was that for?" Lois whispered. The husky tone of her voice made him long to kiss her again.

Clark studied her face, his gaze following the line of her cheekbone down to the now-swollen lushness of her mouth. "I wanted to know if it would be the same."

"Was it?"

"It was better." Better, because she knew who she was kissing. And absolutely stupid because now she was going to ask when he had ever kissed her like that before. Panic shot through him as he realized just how much he had revealed.

Lois nodded. "You're right, it was better. The maid didn't walk in this time."

"The maid?"

"All this time," she continued as if he hadn't spoken, "I've wondered if you only kissed me as a ruse or if there was something more to it." She gave him a small, pleased smile. "Admit it, you find me attractive."

An alarm seemed to sound in his head. This time he was certain it wasn't the fire bell, but rather the terrifying moment he'd been dreading for years. If he admitted his feelings, it was only a matter of time before he'd have to tell her all his secrets. "Are you sure you want me to admit that?"

Her eyes darted down, as if she had been distracted by something on his collar, and then back to meet his. She nodded and softly said, "I'm sure."

Clark was elated by her closeness and the fact that she actually wanted him to be attracted to her. He pulled her closer, using the jacket he had hold of to do it. When he spoke, his voice was suddenly husky and his words deliberate. "I find you very attractive, Lois."

Her head tilted in curiosity. "How attractive?"

This time, a kiss was definitely the only good answer.

<><><>

The following story –

“Gawain and the Black Knight”

by – Deja Vu

was Nominated in the:

Best Long Story

and

Best Overall

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Gawain and the Black Knight

By Deja Vu <snot_vampire@hotmail.com>

Rated PG-13

Submitted April 2013

Summary: Everyone knows Princess Loisette is a brat. But somehow, things start to change when she meets the stableboy Clarkent.

Rating Explanation: No language, a lot of violence and action, some blood, some dark themes.

Disclaimer: I don't own *Lois and Clark*.

References and Influences: In writing this story, I used Wikipedia for a lot of research, and I have taken inspiration from a lot of works (mainly fairytales). Some fairytales and specific works which have inspired a bit of dialogue, a name, a plot point, or the way I handled a scene include (but are not limited to): various Arthurian works (including *Le Morte Darthur*, *Sir Gawain and the Green Knight*, and *The Once and Future King*), *Beowulf*, "Bluebeard," "The Boy Who Cried Wolf," "Cinderella," *Frasier*, "The Gingerbread Man," "Goldilocks and the Three Bears," "The Goose That Laid the Golden Eggs," "Hansel and Gretel," *The Hobbit*, "Jack and the Beanstalk," "Little Red Riding Hood," *Mr. Ed*, "The Pied Piper," "Pinocchio," *Pride and Prejudice*, "The Princess and the Pea," "Puss in Boots," *Quest for Camelot*, "Rapunzel," Robin Hood, "Rumpelstiltskin," a few Shakespeare works (*Twelfth Night*, *As You Like It*, and *The Merchant of Venice*), *Shrek*, "Sleeping Beauty," "Snow White," "The Sorcerer's Apprentice," "The Three Little Pigs," and "The Ugly Duckling" (mixed with *The Secret Garden* and *The Swan Princess*).

Author's Notes: I am using present-day English for ease of reading. Please forgive this choice and any anachronisms/inaccuracies you may find. I have, however, done quite a bit of research, and I've included a glossary at the end of the story, separated by chapters, to help explain certain terms for any who are interested. The bulk of this story takes place over a period of about half a decade. *Most* characters in this story (except the horses) have direct counterparts in *Lois and Clark*. I have also kept approximately the same age difference found between Lois and Clark in the television series (about a year and a half). And finally--there *will* be some dark spots in this story, *but* our favorite couple gets put back in the box with a happy ending, so have no fear! On a side note, I hope to one day make a few expansions and important changes to this story, but I unfortunately do not have the time at present to do so. In the event that I never actually get to it, I figured it was better to just go ahead and upload it.

Author's Thanks: I would like to thank DW for brainstorming with me, making some great suggestions, and looking over the story! She was a *lot* of help plot-wise and picked up some of my stupid mistakes while beta reading. I would also like to thank Female Hawk for her wonderful job as a beta--she really helps me know when to expand and when to tighten things up! She offered many suggestions to improve scenes and general plot, and they were much appreciated. In short, I was very fortunate when it came to my two beta readers for this story, and I am *really* thankful! I'd also like to thank my GE, GooBoo, for finding some of those last little errors!

***

Chapter 1: Two Different Worlds

A piercing scream rang throughout the castle. The eleven-year-old princess was unhappy again.

"Quiet, Princess!" her lady-in-waiting ordered, flapping her arms around like an angry swan. To say she was aggravated was to put it lightly.

"I hate you!" proclaimed the princess, who was also flailing about, though she was doing so on the floor. "You're a horrible pig!"

"And *you* are a bratty little girl!" returned Mirandaa. "I am utterly sick of you!" And it was true. In a short time, she had come to hate the girl. Princess Loisette allied a pale complexion and thin, unhealthy arms with a petulance that made her presence completely undesirable. Mirandaa had heard more than one person refer to the girl as "ugly" in hushed tones, and she was inclined to agree--there was absolutely nothing appealing about the princess. If Princess Loisette didn't always have such a sour expression, then she might be more attractive, but Mirandaa did not foresee such a change happening in the near future.

The object of Mirandaa's thoughts halted her temper tantrum for a couple of breaths, apparently astonished anyone would have the audacity to talk to her like that. Then, she took a deep breath and shouted, "*Heeelllllpppp*!"

"I would shut my large mouth if I were you, Princess," Mirandaa said in a furious but quiet voice. "You--" She cut off as the King of Metropolita rushed through the doorway. Then, she gave a fumbling curtsy, her heart suddenly in her throat.

Upon seeing that both girls were unharmed, King Samuel stared down at his daughter, obviously trying to rein in his anger. "Princess," he said slowly, "what is it?" Hanging unsaid at the end of his sentence were the words "this time."

Loisette gave what she must have thought was a dignified sniff and looked up at him. Now that she had captured her father's attention, the heat of her temper seemed to have disappeared. "Daddy," she said, her eyes wide and sorrowful, "I do not like having Mirandaa as a companion. She dislikes me so--"

"Princess, I'm sure that's not true," King Samuel said in a voice that spoke volumes for his frustration. He nodded toward Mirandaa, and she thought she caught a sympathetic glint in his eyes. "If you could please excuse us ... ?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," murmured the lady-in-waiting before disappearing out the door, though not before she gave one last angry glare toward the princess.

***

"But it *is* true," Loisette insisted after Mirandaa had left, the volume of her voice rising as she stood. "She hates me, Daddy." She stared upward at her father, her lower lip trembling. She knew it was true--and she wanted him to know it, too.

That was the trouble--nobody liked her. None of her ladies-in-waiting had ever wanted to play with her or assist her; they had always wanted to be somewhere else. Her temper came not from a bad disposition, but from a sense of utter desperation. It hurt that no one liked her--and she couldn't help but lash out. She wanted somebody to talk to who would actually care about her. Sometimes, they pretended to care ... but she always knew the truth.

Her father sighed. "Princess--" He was cut off when two stick-thin arms circled his waist and a brown-haired head pressed tightly against his chest. He exhaled again and awkwardly patted his daughter's back. "You must stop this nonsense. If you're not dying, then you shouldn't be yelling as if you are. If you continue doing that, then one day when you *are* in trouble, no one will come."

"I'm sorry, Daddy," the girl whispered into his gold and red tunic. The silk was cool against her cheek, but it could not comfort her.

King Samuel gave her a gentle squeeze. When he spoke again, his voice was soft but firm. "Princess, we're running out of Noble companions to give you. Before long, there will be no one left. This can't continue indefinitely."

Loisette pulled back. "But Daddy--"

"It can't, Princess," he said resolutely. "Soon, you will be stuck with someone whether you like it or not. It isn't proper for you to be without a companion. Your mother wouldn't have--" He shook his head. "It just isn't right." He gave her a slight nod of farewell and then left.

Princess Loisette stared after him sadly, wishing he had placed a kiss on her hair ... like she always longed for him to do. She hated when he thought about her mother. Queen Ellena had died in childbirth ... as had the sister young Loisette had been looking forward to having. So many years had passed that Loisette could barely remember her mother. But that wasn't the case with her father--he remembered her mother well. Maybe too well.

It seemed as if he were always in his chamber staring at a painting of Queen Ellena, who many said Loisette took after. He barely saw Loisette herself ... except to admonish her. While he usually gave in to her desires, she had the feeling he was reaching the end of his tether. And when he finally demanded she keep a specific lady-in-waiting, he would become even less of a presence in her life. He would ignore her cries and trust her to the care of a stranger.

Loisette crumpled on the floor in silent tears. She wished her father didn't hate the sight of her--wished her mother was still alive to speak with her and hold her. She was so lonely.

A tiny squeaking noise reached her ears, and she looked up to find a mouse coming out of a hole in the wall. Her countenance brightened just a fraction.

Robert Bigmouth was her only real friend in the whole world. She had given him that name because he could eat whatever she gave him at remarkable speeds, and watching him eat usually heartened her a little bit. She stood and opened a drawer, unfolding a handkerchief and removing a piece of cheese from the secret stash she kept there specifically for her diminutive friend. Kneeling on the ground, she reached out and placed the cheese in front of him.

Giving a squeak of excitement, he began to nibble at the proffered gift, and she stroked his tiny gray body with a gentle finger. She didn't know if he actually liked being touched, but as long as there was food in front of him, he didn't seem to mind too much. The action gave her a modicum of comfort, so she was glad.

"Oh, Robert Bigmouth," she said softly, tears in her eyes, "I don't want another lady-in-waiting. I just want to spend time with Daddy." She looked up suddenly as an older woman came hurrying into her room.

Robert Bigmouth took one last nibble and then--after giving the intruder what appeared to be an annoyed look--disappeared into his hole.

"Aliss," Loisette said with a sigh, "you scared away poor little Robert."

Her nanny gave a half-curtsy and shook her head in disapproval. Slightly out of breath, she said, "I heard you were being a naughty girl again, and I rushed to get here. I take it your father smoothed everything over?"

Loisette nodded, looking sadly at the mouse's hole.

"You really shouldn't be playing with that thing," Aliss scolded. "You know your father doesn't like having animals around."

The young girl looked down at her hands and began idly playing with a speck of dust on the floor. Yes, she did know that. The only non-human creatures her father tolerated around the castle were horses and the court magician's animal familiar. She moved her gaze back to Aliss. The older woman had a stern expression on her face, but Loisette could read the kindness behind it. "Aliss--why does he hate it?"

***

Loisette's question made Aliss uncomfortable. She hated to lie to the princess--but she also didn't want to tell the truth. As a stalling method, she went to tidy something on the princess's desk. Sitting there was a plate of food that had barely been touched. Aliss's brow furrowed in worry. The princess hardly ever ate anything. In fact, Aliss suspected that pet mouse of hers ate more than she did.

It seemed as if Loisette were wasting away more with every passing year. Her appetite was almost non-existent, and she rarely went outside the castle walls ... She reminded Aliss of a smothered rose. Loisette was meant to be beautiful, Aliss could tell, but she wasn't receiving the nurturing she needed. The King was so wrapped up in thoughts of his dead wife that he failed to see the withering flower of his daughter. Aliss had been with the girl since she was born and loved her as if she were her own--but it wasn't enough. Somehow, Aliss couldn't provide what the princess needed. And she didn't know what could.

It didn't help, of course, that she wasn't able to be with the princess much anymore. When Loisette had grown old enough to be given a lady-in-waiting as a companion, Aliss's services as a nurse were no longer needed. She had then been assigned to help children around the castle become more comfortable with their new roles as servants. She helped dry their eyes and lift their chins, but she had never forgotten Loisette and never would. She would always look out for her.

"Aliss?" Loisette prodded. She was obviously still waiting to hear why her father hated having animals around. And Aliss knew she would have to give an answer. She owed Loisette that much.

Turning, Aliss sighed and nervously crossed her arms. "Your mother loved animals, Your Highness ... especially horses. Some say she could even talk to animals--that a fairy gave her such a gift at her birth." She gave a sad smile. "The older you get, the more you remind me of her. And I think your father feels that way, too."

In a soft voice full of pain, the princess asked, "Is that why he doesn't like to see me?"

Aliss knelt beside her and pulled her into a hug. "Oh, Princess--" Her heart was breaking for the child. She didn't know what to say.

The girl's head began to shake as she shed tears into her nanny's bosom. Aliss lightly stroked her hair and held her, whispering quiet assurances to her young charge. But she knew that the girl's pain went so deep that it could never be uprooted by a few words from an old nurse--no matter how lovingly they were spoken.

***

The Stable Master for the Riding Stable, Dwayne, worked in silence as he showed one of the stableboys under his control the proper way to saddle a royal horse. Dwayne knew that Clarkent had seen the action performed a million times before, but they were servants of the ruler of Metropolita, and Dwayne always tried to ensure that those under his control were trained well.

Though he held an important position in the smaller but more important of King Samuel's two stables, Dwayne was a quiet man who never said a word when one wasn't needed. He was a lot older than Clarkent, and he was very good at what he did. Nobody at the castle--and perhaps no one in the kingdom--knew as much about horses as Dwayne did. He had been around them ever since he became a stableboy at seven years of age, and his gift with the creatures had manifested itself even then.

Dwayne finished his demonstration and paused for a moment; then he quickly removed the horse's tack, placing the pieces carefully on the grass. Ordinarily, he wouldn't put any of it on the ground, but it would only be there briefly. The brown and white horse, Agides, lowered his neck and began nibbling at some grass, glad to be freed of his trappings, even if only for a few seconds.

Clarkent stared at the large creature, obviously nervous. Agides's personality was lamblike compared to most of the horses in the royal stables, but Dwayne understood the pressure felt by a boy wanting to prove his worth. It had been quite a while since he was a child himself, but he could still remember those days.

Hiding a smile, Dwayne motioned for Clarkent to try his hand at tacking the horse. They were using a caparison in the royal colors--red and gold--and other decorative trappings, so it was a little more complicated than simply putting on a saddle and bridle. The boy outfitted Agides with skill, however, and soon Dwayne was admiring the royal symbol on the horse's chest, a rearing gold pegasus.

Clarkent grabbed the horse's lead rope and led him around in front of Dwayne, who watched quietly but with a look of approval. A horse would often hold his breath when being saddled up—either out of nerves or to prevent the saddle from being put on tightly--so the gear usually didn't fit snugly when first put on. Walking made Agides relax, which meant Clarkent was then able to make some final adjustments.

Finished, Clarkent looked to Dwayne inquiringly.

"Good," the man said with a grunt, the slightest of smiles on his lips.

***

Clarkent smiled as he heard Dwayne's word of praise. Coming from the Stable Master, that one word meant a lot.

When Clarkent had been Assigned to the castle, he had been terrified, to say the least. Though it had been about five years ago, he still remembered the day he left home with great clarity.

He had been helping his father in the fields when his mother had come running toward him. "It's time," she had said, sobbing, and she had fallen to her knees at his feet and embraced him.

"What do you mean?" he had asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"It's the Assigning, son--remember how we talked about that?" his father had said in a soft voice, looking more sorrowful than Clarkent had ever seen him.

Even for someone as young as he had been, the Assigning wasn't hard to forget about. When non-Noble males were seven and females nine, they were taken from their homes and Assigned to serve the king and Nobles as servants. Births were logged carefully in every town's Birth Registry, as families would often attempt methods of bypassing the Assigning. But it was pointless to even try. Somehow, the king's men always found out ... And the fines they levied against offenders were crueler than any physical punishment could have been.

Many commoners whispered about how the Assigning was merely a form of slavery. While basic needs were met, those who were Assigned were not paid, and they were not allowed to leave their posts until they came of age at seventeen. There were exceptional situations, of course, in which a servant could be Recalled, but these exceptions were few and far between. A servant who was Dismissed, however, due to issues such as thievery or pregnancy, left in disgrace. The stigma attached to a Dismissal was so great that few dared make the Nobles unhappy by invoking their anger. A Dismissal was almost as bad as an Exile--but while both Dismissed and Exiled people lived in disgrace, at least Dismissed servants could continue to see their families, though that was only a small consolation.

On that terrible day, his mother had hugged him tightly, as if it would be the last time she could do so. Then she had led him by the hand from the fields. They had walked toward a grubby wagon filled with other children who were being taken to the Assigning ceremony. His parents had both hugged him one more time, and he'd climbed up into the wagon and sat next to a girl whose body was being wracked by sobs. He had simply sat there in silence, staring helplessly at his parents.

"We love you so much," his mother had cried out when the wagon began to roll away.

"I love you," he had called back, his voice breaking.

"We'll see you on Visiting Days," his father had yelled. "We promise."

Clarkent could still remember the ache of longing in his heart and the broken-hearted look on their faces as he strained to keep them in view as long as he could. The skill-gauging tests before the Assigning ceremony and the ceremony itself had all been a blur. The only thing he could think about for weeks afterward was a question: Why had this happened?

Dwayne had helped him through the shock of leaving his family. The older man could easily have been frustrated with Clarkent's initial listlessness, but he wasn't. He was patient, and the haze that had afflicted the boy finally cleared. Then he had suddenly thrown himself into his stable duties. Though Dwayne made an excellent Stable Master, the stable under his care had never been cleaner since the day Clarkent had first truly begun working as a stableboy.

Clarkent had been fortunate to be assigned to the Riding Stable, as Dwayne made a firm but kind supervisor. In addition, the horses were generally of higher quality. The other royal stable--which was larger and held a hundred horses used primarily to pull carriages and carts--operated under the cruel command of Kile. Dwayne said little--which suited Clarkent's demeanor since he had been wrenched away from his parents--but his scattered words had helped the young stableboy become a fine judge of horseflesh.

When Dwayne was done with his lesson, he told Clarkent, "Groom the first ten horses. And check for stones."

The boy nodded in acknowledgement--the first ten horses were the ones he was usually assigned to work with, so he was familiar with them--and he watched as Dwayne moved to go check on the progress of the others under his supervision. Grooming horses was a step up for Clarkent. Normally, Dwayne's first task for him was to help feed and water the horses and muck out their stalls. But that task appeared to have been relegated to the other stableboys ... at least for the day. Geralph--the obnoxious boy two years younger than Clarkent--was even now struggling to get inside a stall to feed a horse. The horse kept shaking its head and shifting in place. Clarkent suspected Geralph would soon be relegated to cleaning carriages, carts, and riding equipment ... like other stableboys who weren't good at handling horses.

But even Clarkent, who was good with horses, had his challenges. And his main challenge was Penelope Grace.

Penelope Grace was a female palfrey, which meant she had a smooth and ambling gait. Once upon a time, she had shown the grace that was her namesake, but now--in her old age--she had become immensely cranky.

Dwayne could handle her easily, perhaps because she was accustomed to his presence, but all the stableboys had difficulty with her. The only reason she was even still around was because she had once been Queen Ellena's beloved horse. As such, she was to be kept at the royal stables for the rest of her life. She even got to keep the same stall she'd once had ... mainly because she refused to go into any other stalls.

It was Clarkent's misfortune that he had the most luck with Penelope Grace out of all the stableboys. He wasn't good with her, by any means, but she had never bitten him, as she had all the other workers in the stable, except for Dwayne, of course.

Clarkent decided to groom her last, as he always did. Grooming wasn't a quick process. In addition to having to check hooves for stones (a task which frequently Dwayne reserved for himself), the morning grooming entailed using a curry comb, then wisping the horse with horse hair, then brushing, then wisping again, then rubbing the horse down with a clean cloth, and then brushing the horse's mane and tail. After that, a damp sponge was used to clean the horse's face, and oil was used to make the creature's hooves shine. This was a process that was repeated again later in the day.

Because of the extensive number of things involved in grooming horses, it was a while before Clarkent finally got to Penelope Grace. He gritted his teeth as he looked at her. As a white horse, she would have been a pain to clean anyway. But he swore she purposefully rolled around in mud to thwart his cleaning efforts.

He managed to clean her with remarkably little resistance compared to what he usually faced. However, when it came to checking her hooves for stones, he ran into difficulties. Though he pressed and pushed against Penelope Grace, he could not get her to lift any of her hooves.

He grunted as he pushed yet again, trying to make her shift her weight off one of her front feet.

Suddenly, he noticed a man in the stable staring at him, and he stood straight and flushed.

The man's appearance was innocuous enough--he had on a ratty brown cloak which covered the worn robes beneath it, and his gray hair was a little windswept. His eyes were wise and kind, and his right hand clutched the staff at his side. The top of the staff, Clarkent noted, was carved in the shape of a falcon about to take flight.

"Hello," the man greeted.

"Hi," Clarkent murmured in return. He glanced away uncomfortably. He had seen the man around countless times before, but--though the man had smiled or waved--they had never actually spoken. For them to finally exchange a few words now after all this time--well, it was awkward ... Especially since many of the times Clarkent had seen him, the man had appeared to be staring at him. What this stranger wanted with him, he had no idea.

"Are you having, uh, problems?" the man asked, nodding toward Penelope Grace.

Clarkent looked at the mare, who had turned her head to stare at him with what seemed to be suspicion. "Yes," he admitted. The horse let out a snort, and he watched her warily.

"The name's Peri," the older man introduced himself. "Maybe I can help you."

"Clarkent," he mumbled in return, watching as Peri approached.

Peri reached out a hand and gently touched Penelope Grace's nose, causing her to whinny. Then he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. She shook her head and neighed gently. "Try again, son," Peri instructed.

Obliging, Clarkent pushed against the horse's side and successfully managed to lift her leg. He scraped out a stone that had been lodged in her hoof and set it down. Then he quickly set to work and finished checking the rest of her legs. When he was finally done, he noticed the older man was still there, and he told him gratefully, "Thanks." He didn't quite understand what Peri had done, but he knew that it had worked. For that, he was thankful.

"I'm always glad to help, son," Peri offered with a smile. "So, do you, uh, like it here? What I mean to say is--are you glad you were Assigned here rather than ... somewhere else?"

Clarkent frowned, not quite understanding why this stranger would be asking him such a question. But he answered anyway: "Yes. I guess so." It could certainly have been worse.

"The Stable Master still treating you right?"

"Yes," Clarkent said cautiously. "Dwayne is kind."

"Good. Good." The man gave him a brief nod and then left the stable.

Clarkent stared after him. What had *that* been about?

***

After Peri left the stable, he went into the castle, and he soon ran across an old friend, Aliss, in the hallway. "I was hoping to see you," he said with a smile.

But she didn't smile back. "I'm worried, Peri."

Peri became serious. "About what, Aliss?"

"About Princess Loisette. She barely eats, and she never goes outside. I've tried to get her father to spend more time with her, but he just won't. I don't know what to do." Tears of helplessness and sorrow sprang into her eyes.

Peri embraced her and patted her back. "Don't worry, Aliss. Things have a way of working themselves out."

"I hope you're right, Peri," she said with a sniffle.

He smiled at her. "If she's anything like her mother was, she'll help pull herself out of this. You just gotta have a little faith."

***

A pink pair of well-worn silk shoes stood in the doorway of the castle's exit. Their owner stood still, anxious. Outside was a large world of uncertainties. Was facing them worth the risk?

Suddenly and determinedly, the pink shoes began to move forward of their owner's volition, taking that owner outside the castle for the first time in a very long time. It was scary, yes, but it was also strangely exhilarating.

After a few more moments of hesitation, the small shoes began to shuffle slowly and unsurely toward the Riding Stable, a place where their owner had never been.

***

Chapter 2: Two Worlds Collide

Clarkent stood beside his favorite horse in the Riding Stable, rubbing the buckskin dun's dark nose with loving gentleness.

Now that he was thirteen, he was discovering more and more that he really *had* gone up in the world. He had told Dwayne he could help the other stableboys complete their tasks since he had finished grooming his ten horses, but Dwayne had told him to simply wait to assist any riders that came in. That was normally a job reserved for the stableboys a few years older than he was, so he felt proud to be entrusted with such a responsibility. And he was excited for another reason as well--when a stableboy had reached the point where he could give riding lessons and help riders, he would also be allowed more free time. As perks went, that was a good one for Assigned servants.

Esroh Repus flicked his dark ears, listening to something.

"Repus," Clarkent murmured to the horse soothingly, moving his hand to glide down the well-defined muscles of the creature's neck. The horse rubbed his head against the stableboy, who smiled.

Suddenly, there was the soft crunching of feet on straw, and Clarkent turned.

Standing in the stable entryway was a brown-haired girl with a pink dress and an anxious expression. It was obvious that the stable was not the place she was meant to be, and Clarkent's eyes widened as he took in the silver coronet on top of her head. Was this the *princess*?

Realizing it had to be her, he gave a fumbling bow. Dwayne had taught him how to bow gracefully in case King Samuel ever entered the stable (which never happened, preferring as he did to have his horse prepared for him ahead of time), but now that there was a good opportunity to use that rehearsed bow, Clarkent was unable to bring forth any semblance of grace.

Fortunately, the princess was too distracted to notice him making a fool of himself. "This is the stable?" she asked with readily apparent distaste as she gazed around. From the expression on her face, there might as well have been rotting carcasses strewn in the stalls rather than living creatures.

"Yes, Your Highness," Clarkent murmured, slowly easing up out of his bow. Was he supposed to wait for a signal before rising? He couldn't remember.

"It smells," proclaimed the princess. She wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms.

Clarkent frowned. It was a stable. Of *course* it smelled. What had she expected?

He tried to look closer at her without being obvious about it. Apart from her clothes and her haughty expression, she looked more like a waif than a princess. Somehow, he had expected the princess's cheeks to be pinker and plumper. He hadn't believed most of the stories told about her--some said she was nothing more than a living corpse, and he'd certainly known *that* couldn't be the case--but apparently she *was* unhealthily thin. The higher-than-thou attitude he had also heard about also appeared to apply.

He glanced toward the end of the stable, where Dwayne was helping Geralph untangle a set of bridles. He caught Dwayne's eye questioningly, and the older man nodded. Clarkent knew that meant Dwayne wasn't going to come and help with the princess. He was going to have to assist her himself.

"You!" the object of his thoughts said, staring straight at him, as if seeing him for the first time. "Do you have a name?"

Clarkent resisted the urge to cross his own arms. He did *not* like this girl. It seemed as if every one of the bad stories he had heard about her were true. Regardless of his personal opinion, however, he wouldn't be uncivil to her--he wasn't going to risk a Dismissal because of a petulant princess. So he settled with a nod in response to her inquiry.

The princess continued looking at him. "Well? What is your name?"

He gritted his teeth and forced his tone to stay level. "Clarkent," he answered. He paused and then added, "Your Highness."

She gazed at him for a moment, as if trying to ascertain whether his use of "Your Highness" had been sarcastic or not. But he looked back at her unflinchingly, and she at last lowered her head. "I am Princess Loisette, and I want to go riding," she proclaimed in a soft but firm voice.

"Yes, Highness," he murmured. It was just his luck to be saddled with assisting this brat.

***

When Loisette had stepped into the stable, she had been frightened out of her wits. But she had endeavored not to show it, hiding her insecurities under a layer of snootiness.

The stableboy she had first laid eyes on seemed nice. He had been gently petting a horse and talking to it, and suddenly she had wanted to experience his kindness. But the only true kindness she had witnessed being applied to herself had been Aliss's--and so she didn't know how to approach him.

As she asked him his name, she noticed he was covered in the dust of the stable. He was surely foul-smelling, and there was no reason why she should want to be in his presence. But though she had come here with the intent to ride a horse, her already shaky resolve was starting to dissolve. She had to get a grip on herself. They were just animals. There was nothing to be afraid of.

Taking in a deep breath, she lifted her head and pointed to a cream-colored horse. "What is that horse's name?"

The stableboy--Clarkent--glanced at the creature. "High Flyer, Your Highness," he told her. He was obviously not a boy of many words. She wasn't sure if she liked that or not.

"I would like to ride him. You must get him ready for me."

His eyes darkening, the stableboy responded, "Yes, Your Highness."

***

Clarkent asked the princess to wait a moment while he went to speak with Dwayne. She looked annoyed at the delay but nodded in acceptance.

"The princess wants to ride," Clarkent told the Stable Master softly. "But she doesn't have a lady-in-waiting with her. Do I--do I go with her? Should I ask Billy to go with her instead?" Giving lessons was part of a stablehand's duties--but females never came alone for those lessons. They always had someone with them. It was rather unorthodox for the princess to be here by herself. As a result, Clarkent thought maybe Billy should assist her--he was a few years older than Clarkent and had thus been around the stable longer.

Dwayne studied him for a moment, a frown creasing his forehead. "Normally, it would not be appropriate for a stableboy to go out alone with a princess. But I think that it will be all right for you to go with her."

Clarkent wanted to ask what made him so special--why *he* could go with the princess when Dwayne seemed to be implying the other stableboys (including the more experienced Billy) shouldn't do so--but it wasn't his place to question, so he just nodded and walked away from Dwayne.

As Clarkent moved over to the equipment, the princess came up behind him. He began to pick up a saddle, and he saw her pointing at something.

"I want that," she said.

He shifted to see what she was looking at. She was pointing at a red and gold caparison.

He frowned. "They usually don't wear those for normal riding, Your Highness."

"I want him to wear all the pretty horse clothes," she declared.

Even though the term "horse clothes" almost made him laugh, Clarkent found his mood darkening. "Yes, Your Highness," he muttered.

As Clarkent saddled the palfrey the princess had picked out, it was hard to keep from grumbling. Putting on a horse's full regalia was a painstaking process, especially since he had only actually put on all of a horse's equipment once. He might have seen it done countless times, but it was different to actually do it himself. And since it was for the princess, he had to make sure everything was perfect.

Personally, he thought she wanted the full trappings just to make him do more work. And thinking about that simply annoyed him more.

Still--there was a part of him that was worried. While High Flyer's gait was one of the smoothest in the stable, he liked speed, and he was occasionally a little stubborn. It had never been bad enough that Clarkent would refuse to allow a beginner to ride him, but the horse would certainly have not been his first choice for someone as slight-looking as the princess. He would simply have to keep an eye on both horse and rider. Besides, the princess might quickly decide this newest pastime was boring—he could be worrying over nothing.

When Clarkent had finally put everything on the horse, he double-checked to make sure all the equipment was secure, and then he walked the Palomino around and fixed the sidesaddle one last time. He took High Flyer's lead rope, grabbed the whip the princess would need, and said softly, "Follow me, Your Highness."

He led the horse and the princess outside the stable to a wooden platform. A set of stairs led up to it, and there was a railing on the backside. The platform was there to help children and women mount taller horses, and Clarkent knew they would need it. It would have been too easy for the princess to pick a pony--which would have been more suitable for someone of her size and experience.

As he moved High Flyer to stand beside the platform, he gestured for the princess to climb the stairs.

She gave him a sour look--why, he wasn't sure--but did as he'd motioned her to. Her pink shoes climbed first one step and then another, and after a few more, she was at the top.

Clarkent dropped the lead rope to the ground. All the horses in the Riding Stable--except, of course, for Penelope Grace, who wouldn't stand in one place for all the salt licks in the world--were ground tied, which meant they had been trained to stand in one place when their lead rope was lying on the ground, so he didn't have to worry about High Flyer running off. He hurried up the stairs behind the princess, ready to help her mount the horse. After a second's thought, he dropped the whip he was holding on to the platform, knowing he would need his hands free.

Though she was only a year or two younger than him, she was small and extremely thin, and Clarkent was confident he could lift her without any difficulty. He told her quietly, "I'm going to help you onto the horse, Highness."

The princess nodded, and he couldn't help but think that she looked terrified. "All right," she said shakily. "If--if you think you must."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes in irritation and instructed curtly, "Hold the pommel ... Highness." When she looked confused, he gestured to the slightly raised area at the front of the saddle. After she had grabbed on to it--for dear life, it looked like--he stepped forward. Carefully, he placed his hands under her arms, lifting her. To say she was as light as a feather would have been an exaggeration, but in the brief time he held her up, Clark could feel how bony and underfed she was. As he set her on the sidesaddle, he thought there was something incredibly sad about her life, though he couldn't quite say what.

The princess instantly leaned forward to put her arms around High Flyer's tan neck, and Clarkent said quickly, "Easy. You'll scare him. Sit up straight."

She took in a deep breath as she rose off the horse's neck, looking more like a frightened little girl than a princess. "I've--I've never ridden a horse before," she told him quietly.

Though he should have expected that admission based on her behavior, Clarkent was nonetheless surprised. He had thought horseback riding lessons were a requirement for royalty. Who had ever heard of a princess who couldn't ride a horse?

"Never?" the word escaped him. He clamped his mouth closed. He really had to be more careful.

But she didn't seem to think him insolent. She simply shook her head. "I--I don't know what to do."

One of the common sayings of the day was "It's just like riding a horse--you never forget." But part of the problem with that saying was that a person actually had to learn *how* to ride a horse before it could apply. And so, mystified at how different this princess was from what he had expected, Clarkent tilted his head and looked at her, truly seeing her for the first time. Though she had come in here ready to spout off orders, he had the feeling it was just to hide her insecurities. But what he didn't understand ... was why she felt insecure in the first place.

She was a princess. She had been born with a golden spoon in her hand, after all! If she wanted boar for dinner, all she would have to do was ask for it. If she wanted a pretty new necklace, all she had to do was send someone to buy one. An entire kingdom was at her fingertips. Surely, she could want for nothing.

But if she had all that, why was she so unhappy? Why was she so thin? Why was she as wretched as everyone had always made her out to be?

Whenever Dwayne heard any of the stableboys share disparaging stories of the princess, he sharply told them not to take stock in idle rumors. Did he know something Clarkent didn't? Why did nothing about this princess make any sense? She was an enigma to him.

He took in a deep breath, resolving to be more patient with her. "Try talking to him," he suggested. "Horses can sense nervousness."

The princess looked at him unsurely and then glanced at her horse. "High Flyer," she said in a soft voice, tentatively reaching forward to stroke his neck. "It's okay. I won't hurt you. I just want to ride you. You'll let me do that, won't you?"

The horse's cream-colored ears twisted to hear her better, and she continued talking, "Please--be good for me."

"I'm moving your foot," Clarkent told her. She nodded, and he looked down at her dress with a frown.

The long skirt of dress was covering her foot, which could be potentially problematic, but there was nothing that could be done about it--unless he told the princess to go to the castle and change, and he certainly wasn't going to do that. So, biting his lip, he lifted her dress up enough so he could see her shoe.

She was wearing a pink slipper, which again wasn't the best choice for riding. He looked up at her. "The next time you ride, you should wear boots, Your Highness."

"Why?" she asked defensively.

"The heel will help keep your shoe in the stirrup," he explained.

"Oh," she said and then fell silent.

Since that had gone over better than he thought, Clarkent ventured, "You should also wear a slightly shorter dress."

She peered down over the side of the horse. "So it won't cover my foot?" she guessed.

He nodded. Then, satisfied that he had at least warned her a little about proper riding clothing, he placed a hand under the heel of her left foot. He guided her pink shoe into the stirrup, marveling at how small her foot was. Then he stepped back and gave her a few pointers on how to ride the horse--speaking in short sentences and never saying much more than ten words at a time. Finally, he handed her the whip, which she took uneasily. "You'll need that to cue High Flyer, Your Highness," he told her.

"What do you mean?" she asked warily.

"It's part of riding sidesaddle instead of astride," he answered, as if that explained everything.

"What?"

"You use the whip and your left foot as cues," he told her.

"Oh," she said, still looking unsure.

Clarkent got off the platform and took High Flyer's lead rope, guiding the horse around to get the princess used to its movements.

The princess soon got over her initial fright, which was good. But her fright appeared to turn into annoyance, which was *bad*.

"Why must I ride sidesaddle?" she asked him in a raised voice that was almost a growl.

Clarkent tilted his head and stared at her, not understanding why she was putting up a fight about this. "Because you're a girl."

Her brow narrowed. "What?"

Clarkent swallowed, fearing he had upset her. "Ladies ride sidesaddle, Your Highness," he told her quickly. Maybe putting a more positive spin on it would help.

"But it seems more dangerous," she pointed out.

Or not.

"It's not proper," he returned firmly.

"And why not?" she demanded.

He flushed. A comment Geralph had once made--"Women should be straddling men, not horses"--came to his mind, but it wasn't something that could be spoken to a woman, much less a princess. And he was ashamed of even thinking of it himself. So he simply answered, "It just isn't--ladies wear dresses ..." He couldn't bring himself to say much more than that.

She stared at him, and he wondered if she was going to challenge him and get him in a whole world of trouble. But then she looked away from him and asked, "Are you going to ride with me?"

"What?" he asked, not certain he had heard her right.

She turned back toward him. "I wish to ride in the field, and I command you to ride with me." She lifted her chin, her eyes flashing like those of a mother bear just daring someone to move closer to her cubs.

"Are you sure you're ready to ride in the field?" he asked her unsurely.

She pressed her heel into High Flyer's side and swished the whip with her right hand. The horse moved forward, and Clarkent had to act quickly so that the lead rope was not pulled out of his hands.

There was an expression of annoyance on her face. "Why? You don't want me to ride because you're scared you'll get in trouble if I get hurt?"

Her sudden attack startled him. "No. I ... I don't want you to get hurt," he said softly. He really didn't--princess or not, she was a human being, and he didn't want anything bad to happen to her.

"Oh ... " she trailed off. "Well, I'm ready for the field."

He nodded. "All right."

Clarkent led the princess and her horse to the stable. He moved to go saddle up Agides, who was usually reserved for the stableboys to use, but the princess's voice caused him to turn.

"Why are you not saddling that one?" she asked, pointing at Esroh Repus.

Clarkent shifted his feet uneasily. She must have remembered him petting the horse. "He is only for use by Nobles." Clarkent was allowed to ride Repus when exercising him--otherwise, only Nobles were supposed to ride him. That was just the way of things. Nobles had certain privileges which lowly stableboys did not.

"I am the princess," she stated with royal firmness, "and I want you to ride him."

"Y-yes, Your Highness," Clarkent replied, a bit puzzled. But he nonetheless turned away from Agides and walked toward Repus. Maybe the princess's presence wasn't so bad after all.

***

Loisette found that the infernal stableboy insisted on riding right beside her. He was obviously worried that she would fall off, and his overprotective nature irked her. "Go ride ahead," she told him, waving in front of her.

He shook his head. "No, Your Highness."

She stared at him for a moment, wanting suddenly to get under that ever-so-calm skin of his. "Fine," she gritted. "Then I will race you!"

She dug into High Flyer's side with her heel and cued him with her whip, and he broke out into a trot. She was sitting there wondering how to make him go even faster when the stableboy suddenly flashed up beside her and took away her horse's reins. He made a clicking noise and said, "Whoa," pulling back on High Flyer's reins and forcing him back into a walk.

Still holding the reins, the stableboy twisted his head to look at that. "Don't ever do that again, Your Highness," he growled.

Loisette was taken aback and could only manage meekly, "What?"

"You aren't experienced enough for races. You could've been hurt!" His voice was filled with steel, and his eyes were serious and stern.

But Loisette suddenly rediscovered her own mettle, and she shot back, "What's the point of riding these stupid things if you can't have fun?"

"Dying isn't fun, Your Highness!"

"Well, maybe I wouldn't have been close to dying if you hadn't made me ride sidesaddle!" she spat.

"That's how it's done!" he returned. "I didn't make the rules, Princess!"

"But you love upholding them, don't you?"

He shook his head, not understanding. "*What*?"

She slapped her hands on her lap, furious at this boy. "I want to race!"

"No!"

Loisette grabbed her coronet off her head and flung it to the ground. "I want to race *now*!" she shrieked.

He looked down at the small crown and then back up at her. There was a stubborn jut to his jaw. "No, Princess."

She took in a deep breath, about to start yelling. Throwing a temper tantrum on top of a horse was going to be hard, but not impossible, and she was prepared to do it--but then she looked at him again.

Unlike with the countless ladies-in-waiting she had had, he showed no desire to yell back at her or hate her. Instead, he was simply firmly standing by something he believed in. True, the thing that he believed in--that he had to keep her safe—was frustrating her, but at least he actually seemed sincere ... like he cared about her well-being.

Still--she was mad. And she didn't want to be around him anymore. All she wanted to do was go back to her room and feed Robert Bigmouth cheese. She'd had enough of the outside world for today. "I want to go back to the stables," she told him in a level tone as she picked up her coronet and put it back on. Her sentence was part demand and part request.

The stableboy--Clarkent, she reminded herself again, though she wasn't sure why it mattered--nodded grimly and handed her back her reins. He watched with his dark eyes as she turned High Flyer around to guide him back to the stable. Then he pulled up beside her, and they walked their horses back to the stable quietly.

She went to the platform and jumped off her horse before he could move to help her. Then she walked down the stairs with a dignified air and began moving toward the castle. She could feel his eyes on her the whole way, and for some reason it made her flush.

***

Chapter 3: The Second Collision

The next day, Princess Loisette sat in her room, fidgeting.

She wanted to go back to the stable. She liked being around all the horses, even if they *did* smell.

The reason she wanted to go had *nothing* to do with that impertinent stableboy. In fact, he was the reason why she *wasn't* going--she simply couldn't stand seeing him again!

After eating a piece of an orange, she placed another slice on the floor in front of Robert Bigmouth's mouse hole. He poked his head out, grabbed the slice, and went back inside.

The princess sighed. She should have placed it further away—at least then she could have managed to pet him once.

She began pacing around her room, feeling restless but unsure why. She suddenly stopped in front of her bed. Lying there was her small doll.

She picked it up and looked at it. She had never really liked dolls, but this one had belonged to her mother, and so she slept with it every night. The toy had a white dress on that was slightly yellowed with age, and her blonde hair was ratted due to infrequent brushings. Loisette had never brushed her own hair, let alone a doll's, and none of her ladies-in-waiting had cared enough to offer to assist with the maintenance of Loisette's toy.

As Loisette stared down at the glossy eyes and frozen smile of the doll, she thought back to her experience in the stable the day before. Too often, she felt like this doll--frozen in time and place ... watching as everything around her changed but herself ... cared for and cherished by no one, not even the one person who was supposed to love her above all else ... But when she had ridden alongside that stubborn stableboy ... it had made her feel alive.

Determined to break out of the porcelain shell of her life within the castle walls, Loisette placed the doll on her dresser and turned her eyes to her chamber door. She was going to go to the stable again.

***

As Loisette walked through the large entrance of the stable, she faltered when she realized the person she had wanted to see was nowhere in sight. Instead, a slightly older boy—perhaps fifteen--was standing near the entryway and pounding away at something. It looked like he was working on fixing a stall.

Seeing her, he bowed and then stepped toward her, his hammer in hand. "The name's William," he told her in a level tone. "Did you lose something, Your Highness?"

Loisette frowned at the implication that she was not meant to be in a stable, but she sensed the amusement behind his question, so she didn't get as angry with him as she might have otherwise. Which was not to say she wasn't angry.

"*No*," she bit out with a glare. "I came here to ride."

"That usually is what people want when they come into a stable," William commented dryly.

She glared at him. "Well, I do not want *your* assistance. I wish to be helped by Clarkent." The words had come out of their own volition. But on examining her feelings, she realized it was true--she *did* want to be helped by Clarkent. She didn't know why, but it did seem like he truly cared for her safety. The only person she'd ever felt that with was Aliss.

A man--likely the Stable Master--walked up to her, having heard what she said. After bowing, he told her, "Clarkent is looking for an escaped horse, Your Highness. The mare splintered the bars of her stall. It will probably be ten more minutes before he returns. But Billy and I can help you now."

Loisette turned to look at the dry-humored "Billy." There was a hint of a smirk touching the corners of his mouth.

"I will wait," she said firmly. It was hard to keep from sticking her tongue out at the stableboy.

"Suit yourself, Your Highness," Billy told her. He stepped away and resumed fixing the stall--which had to belong to the horse the man had mentioned, Loisette realized.

Though Billy moved away, the man stayed with Loisette. He stood there quietly for a minute before commenting, "It's good to see you in the stable, Your Highness. Your mother loved horses."

Loisette gave a brittle smile. "So I have heard."

He gave her a discerning look, and she wondered how much he knew about her. He noted casually, "The horse Clarkent's looking for used to be hers." He must have seen the light in her eyes, as he quickly added, "But I don't recommend riding her. That horse really gives new meaning to the word 'petulance,' Your Highness."

Loisette smiled at him. He seemed like a nice man.

***

Penelope Grace walked right up to the stable door and stopped.

Clarkent made a clicking noise. "Come on," he encouraged. He tugged at her lead rope, but she wouldn't budge.

He tried giving her a light pat on the rump, and she looked at him with disinterest. Then she snorted.

Clarkent resisted the urge to growl. He had finally tracked down the blasted horse and brought her within yards of their destination, and now he couldn't finish the job because she had suddenly decided it was more enjoyable to stand motionlessly out of a stall than in one.

He was contemplating giving her an even harder smack on the rump when he heard a piercing whistle. He turned and saw Dwayne a few yards away. Penelope Grace, who had heard the Stable Master's call, trotted forward obediently, nearly yanking Clarkent's arm out of its socket in her attempt to oblige Dwayne. Clarkent made an annoyed face, but he rushed forward and finished putting the horse in her stall before she could change her mind. As he turned away from the stall, his eyes widened as he realized the princess was standing in the stable and looking at him.

He made an awkward bow, not sure why his heart was suddenly galloping in his chest like a spooked courser. "Your Highness."

"Princess Loisette just arrived," Dwayne told him. The princess threw a grateful look at him, though Clarkent wasn't sure why. "Since you're here now, you might as well help her saddle up."

"All right," Clarkent mumbled. He moved to get out the equipment, resigning himself to putting on the horse's full royal regalia.

But the princess stepped up to him. "I don't need everything this time," she told him. "Just--you know--the saddle and stuff." She shifted uncomfortably, and it was obvious she felt as awkward as he did, especially considering how they had last left each other.

"Yes, Your Highness," Clark said softly, not wanting to question her motives.

Perhaps a second later, she proclaimed, "I wish to ride High Flyer again."

Clarkent nearly groaned. He had been hoping he could convince her to ride a different horse. It worried him when she rode High Flyer, even though she had only done it once. But when the princess had brought the horse into a trot, there had been a glint in the horse's eyes ... And that didn't bode well. Given a little more time, Clarkent suspected the horse would have *really* been flying high, and Clarkent would have been hard-pressed to keep the princess from falling off and breaking her neck. Still, he couldn't help but make one attempt to change her mind: "Perhaps a different horse--"

"No," the princess said sharply. "I like High Flyer."

"Yes, Princess," he muttered. He looked over at High Flyer, who was munching contentedly on a mouthful of hay. Maybe things would turn out all right. He would simply have to make sure they kept the pace to a walk.

***

After the horses were saddled up, the princess requested Clarkent ride with her again. He did as she wished, knowing a royal request might as well have been a royal mandate for all the free will that a requestee had in deciding whether or not to oblige.

As they left the stable, he found himself again mentally listing all the things that could go wrong if he was going to have to train the princess to ride. However, the sun was warm on his back, and the air was fresh, and his spirits soon lifted, and his mood brightened. The princess did seem perfectly capable of taking care of herself--and besides, everyone had to start learning somewhere. He was simply fortunate that she had proved such a good student. Already, she looked as if she had been riding horses for months. And before long, it would look like she had ridden them for years.

"It's really nice out here," the princess commented as she looked around at the field. A playful breeze was tickling the blades of grass, causing them to ripple in silent laughter. A bird flew overhead and let out a fragment of a song which another bird happily responded to. Then, as if wanting to complete the picture, a white cloud passed lazily overhead.

Observing all this, Clarkent smiled. "You're right."

Neither of them had exactly apologized, but what had just passed between them was close enough. And as long as the princess didn't suggest racing again, Clarkent thought he would get along well with her.

But then she had to go and burst his bubble. "Would you let me trot at least?"

"What?" he blurted out accidentally. "Your Highness, that isn't a good idea."

"I didn't fall off last time," she pouted.

"That doesn't mean you won't fall off this time."

"Oh, fine," she grumbled. He was relieved she didn't press the issue any further.

A few minutes later, she patted High Flyer's neck gently. "You're a good horse," she told him, her voice pleasant. Then she looked at Clarkent. "Do you like working in the stable?"

For some reason, the question took Clarkent aback. Did he *like* working in the stable? It had never really been a question of whether he liked it or not. It had been what he was Assigned to do, and so he did it. It wasn't like he could really change his lot in life.

But on considering the princess's inquiry, he found his answer quickly, and he told her, "Yes, Your Highness."

She frowned. "You don't have to keep calling me 'Your Highness,' you know."

Clarkent's bottom lip quirked upward into a smile. "Yes, Your Highness."

The princess rolled her eyes and spread her arms out, the reins resting on the front of her saddle. Clarkent was barely able to restrain himself from ordering her to stop. They were going at a slow pace--if she fell, all she would hurt was her dignity.

"Ah! I want to go on an adventure! I feel like Gareth!" the princess proclaimed, sounding a bit frustrated.

Puzzled, Clarkent tilted his head. "Who is that, Your Highness?"

The princess brought her hands back down to grab the reins, and she turned to look at him as if he had just asked what food was. "You've never heard of Gareth? What about Gawain?"

"I do not know them, Your Highness."

She shook her head, looking disappointed. "It's sad you haven't heard of them. Gawain was a great knight who went on many adventures."

"What kind of adventures?" he asked in interest.

She smiled at him. "All kinds. But I'll tell you my favorite story. One day, Gawain's youngest brother, Gareth, heard that Gawain was fighting a chimera. He'd been at it for two days. Though Gareth hadn't ever quested before, he took his horse and looked for his brother, hoping to reach him in time." She punctuated her story with a bouncing motion meant to mimic horseback riding. High Flyer snorted in discomfort, and she continued her story with a gentle pat on his mane. The silly motion served as a subtle reminder that this princess--though she often spoke like an adult--was very young. "But Gareth ran into trouble and came across a dangerous black knight who felt loyalty to no man. They were in a brutal battle, and at last, Gareth won. But he was mortally wounded. Still--that didn't stop him from riding to his brother. Gareth finally reached Gawain, who was standing at the body of the dead chimera. Gareth was relieved that Gawain didn't need saving, but he had lost too much blood from his injuries, and he slumped and fell off his horse."

Clarkent stared at the princess as she told her story. There was such a fire in her eyes and her movements, and he was entranced. The energy put into telling this story was much different from that put into her anger, and there was something mesmerizing about it. The thinness of her face faded into the periphery in the light of her passion. It made her look almost ... pretty.

Oblivious to how intrigued her audience was, the princess went on. "Gawain ran over and took his brother in his arms. Gareth told him how happy he was that Gawain was alive--and that it was all he could have wished for." Her voice became quiet and sad. "Gawain cried as his brother died in his arms. After that, Gawain became fiercely protective of his remaining brothers--Gaheris, Mordred, and Agravaine--and also of his king and friend, Arthur ... It was said no man could hope to defeat Gawain after that day if they threatened the ones he loved."

Clarkent looked down at Esroh Repus and leaned down to stroke his neck. "That's a sad story, Your Highness," he commented.

"But it spurred Gawain on to even greater things," she pointed out. "King Arthur never had a better knight."

"What about Lancelot?" Clarkent asked. In truth, Lancelot was the only one of the legendary King Arthur's knights whose name Clarkent knew.

The princess shrugged. "Lancelot is overrated--and he took his best friend's wife away." She shook her head adamantly. "No, Gawain is a greater hero."

Clarkent looked at her as she turned High Flyer toward an apple tree. She had led them to the royal orchards. "Do you think they--Gawain, Arthur, Gareth--are real?" Belatedly, he added, "Your Highness." It was getting harder to remember to be formal with her. He had to be careful.

As she reached up and got an apple, the princess smiled at him, and he blushed, though he wasn't sure why. "Does it matter?" she asked.

The princess gestured him over, and he moved Repus closer. She handed him the apple, which he took hesitantly. He looked down at it, twisting it in his hands. "I guess not," he conceded.

She reached up and got another apple. She tossed the fruit into the air and caught it with both hands, though she almost lost her whip in the process. "We should go on an adventure," she declared.

Clarkent had just taken a bite of his apple, and he paused to chew. After swallowing, he told her with careful slowness, "It's dangerous for a princess to go on an adventure."

A shadow fell over her face. She looked down at her untouched apple--squeezing it briefly--and then threw it to the ground. "Yes. It is."

Clarkent felt terrible for his words--he hadn't meant to upset her--but what he had said was the truth. If Princess Loisette was to succeed her father to the throne, then she couldn't simply go gallivanting about the country seeking adventures. She had duties to her kingdom and to her father.

"I'm sorry, Princess," he said in a soft voice.

She shook her head. "Why should you be sorry? After all, you're right," she told him bitterly. "I'm not allowed to have adventures." She kicked her heel and flicked her whip, and High Flyer began walking away from the tree.

As Clarkent pulled on his reins to signal Repus to follow her, he found himself pitying the princess again. Perhaps she was just as trapped in her life as he was in his. Maybe that was the reason for her misery.

They walked a little while longer before the princess led them back to the stable. She brought High Flyer to the platform and actually waited for Clarkent to come assist her. As he gently helped her down, she gave him a look that was equal parts sorrow and gratitude. Struck by her expression, he kept his hands at her waist for a few more seconds. Then he slowly removed them, his cheeks growing warm.

She descended the steps in a slow and methodical fashion, and at the bottom of them, she turned her head to look up at him. "Thank you for the ride," she said. And then she walked away.

Clarkent mumbled, "You're welcome, Princess," but he didn't think she heard him. He continued to watch her as she disappeared into the distance. He felt sad for the princess--she was very smart, but it was obvious she had had to grow up too quickly. Due to the Assigning, Clarkent had seen that far too much, though he hadn't really expected it among royalty. He also got the feeling that the princess hadn't been around other children her age very often. But still ... he had hope for her. Though she was bowing under the weight of some heavy burden he couldn't fully comprehend, he had the feeling that she was a fighter. She simply needed someone to help her lift her chin ... and then she could take on the world.

Thinking he would much rather see her temper than her sadness, Clarkent gave a slight smile as he led the horses back to the stable. He hoped he would see the princess again soon.

***

Chapter 4: Getting Back Up

A few weeks later, Aliss was combing the castle, trying to find Princess Loisette.

The girl had always disappeared frequently. That alone was not out of the ordinary. Normally, however, Aliss was able to find her without too much effort. She would usually find Loisette under a table in the library reading a book ... or in an abandoned part of the dungeon practicing her penmanship ... or in one of half a dozen other nooks and crannies in the castle trying to decipher a map or befriend some downtrodden rat or catch a nap. Sometimes, the girl would even merely wander around, as if looking for a part of the castle she had somehow left unexplored. Aliss was only thankful that Loisette didn't know the location of any of the castle's secret passageways.

Aliss suspected the princess was searching for adventure (and perhaps answers) within the castle walls. But the adventures she read about in her storybooks were not likely in such a closeted world as the princess endured. Though Aliss hated the thought of her being in danger, she found herself wishing Loisette could have one--very small--adventure before becoming queen. Her mother, after all, had had many in her youth, and an adventure could perhaps serve to connect Loisette with the wisp of a figure she could barely remember but yearned so deeply to know.

But maybe Loisette's world was finally expanding. As of late, Aliss had found her only infrequently in the castle, and she thought maybe the princess was finally exploring the outside world. But she did wish Loisette would take her latest lady-in-waiting with her (though how long this lady-in-waiting would last was probably measured in days rather than months). Aliss worried about the princess being alone. There was no telling how many gray hairs Aliss had received from dealing with the girl--after all, if there was one thing Loisette was good at, it was creating trouble when she couldn't find it.

Still--the princess always came back unharmed. Aliss was probably worrying about nothing. Perhaps Peri knew what Loisette was doing in the great world outside the castle ...

Well, whatever it was, maybe it would help increase Loisette's appetite and take the pallor from her skin. All that mattered to Aliss was that the princess was happy and healthy.

She decided to quit her search, telling herself she was worrying without cause. The princess was simply out having fun--there was no need for Aliss to give herself another gray hair over that. But she smiled to herself at the thought. She wouldn't trade any of those gray hairs--or her time with Loisette--for all the magic in the world.

***

Loisette walked into the stable and smiled when she saw Clarkent. She stood there watching him as he groomed Esroh Repus, and then she stepped forward.

"Hi," she said, suddenly feeling shy.

He turned and looked at her. "Hi," he returned with a smile.

That smile filled Loisette with warmth. "Do you need some help?" she asked him hopefully.

He shook his head, watching as he stroked the brush across Esroh Repus. "That's all right."

She looked down at her hands. "I'd ... like to."

The stableboy turned toward her and tilted his head, searching her face for something. "If you really want to." He made a gesture with his head.

Grabbing some grooming tools, he led her to a brown and white horse. "This is Agides," he told her.

"Hi, Agides," she greeted, reaching a hand out and petting his nose. The horse twisted his neck slightly and looked at her with a big brown eye, and she smiled.

The stableboy handed her a comb, and she looked at it. "What's this called?"

"It's a curry comb," he told her. "It loosens dirt. You move it in circles all over Agides's body."

She reached out, slowly and gently rubbing the comb in a circle.

Clarkent put his hand over hers. "You're being too gentle—you won't get any dirt out." He then guided her hand with his in a more vigorous fashion. "You just have to be careful about shoulders, hips, legs, and the stomach. You brush lighter there." He released his hand from hers and let her continue.

Loisette smiled as she continued with her task. The horse, Agides, simply stood in place, occasionally swishing his tail. Excited about doing something new, she determined to get the stableboy to teach her the other steps of grooming.

***

After learning about grooming, the princess seemed eager to be taught other tasks, so Clarkent taught her how to put on a saddle.

Her face turned red as she lifted the saddle and saddle blanket--which together probably amounted to about a quarter of her weight--and she hoisted it on to High Flyer.

"You put it on the wrong way," Clarkent said, trying to hide his smile.

She turned to him, looking utterly disheartened. "I did?"

He suddenly felt bad about teasing her. "No--I'm sorry. I was just ... never mind." He swallowed and walked toward the saddle. "Now, you're supposed to put this higher than it's going to be, as it will shift into the right place and all the hairs will lie flat. That makes it more comfortable for the horse. There ... that's right. Well done."

She smiled at his praise.

"Now, you put the stirrup back up here so it won't get in your way. Then you fasten the girth straps."

A few minutes later, High Flyer was properly saddled, his girth straps having been tightened sufficiently.

"Good job," Clarkent told her.

She practically beamed at him. "Thank you!" She turned and rubbed High Flyer's nose. "And thank you for being so patient with me, High Flyer."

Clarkent smiled, remembering the haughty waif who had first appeared in the stable. Who would've thought she would want to learn more than just riding? Maybe the princess wasn't so bad.

***

Several minutes later, High Flyer walked onto the open field, and Loisette admired his smooth strides. "You're a good horse," she told him.

The horse flicked his ears, and Loisette frowned. "His ears are twitching," she commented.

The stableboy looked over High Flyer. "It's because you're talking," he told her. "Horses automatically move their ears in the direction where sound is coming from. To listen to different sounds with different ears, they can even move their ears independently."

Loisette frowned and then stuck one hand on the left side of High Flyer and leaned her head to the right side. Simultaneously, she snapped her fingers and said the horse's name. She smiled as his ears twitched in opposite directions, and she glanced over at Clarkent. "You know a lot about horses, don't you?"

He gave her a half smile. "It's my job."

Nodding, she turned her eyes back to High Flyer, and she patted his neck. She was growing to really love the horse. Guiding him gave her a sense of control, yet it was also almost like a partnership. She relied on him just as much as he relied on her.

She had been avoiding the outside world for so long that she had forgotten how wonderful it was. Being outside of the castle was freeing--she wasn't confined or constantly watched, and she was able to look up at the sky and imagine what it would be like to fly.

She also had to admit that it was nice to be around someone her age. The stableboy Clarkent made her feel less like royalty and more like a human being. Though she spent most of her time outside exploring the region surrounding the castle--and only spent an hour or two a day with the stableboy (knowing he had work to do)--being around Clarkent for even that long was enough to lift her spirits. She was able to take comfort from the simple act of napping beneath a tree or watching a family of rabbits play cautiously in the grass. A life of books alone was no life at all--it had to be balanced with physical activity and an appreciative view of the outside world. And it felt good to be around someone who seemed to like her--someone who wasn't just helping her because he had to.

She turned her eyes down to High Flyer's neck, realizing with some surprise that she had even grown to love the smell of the stable. It was refreshing to someone more accustomed to the perfumes of ladies at court. After riding in quiet contemplation for a few more minutes, Loisette turned to her human companion. "How am I doing now?" The stableboy didn't know it, but the question was an important one--and not because she valued his opinion (which, she realized, she oddly enough *did* value).

Clarkent, oblivious to her thoughts, smiled at her. "I am impressed, Your Highness."

She laughed. "I am an expert now, you mean!"

"Something like that, Your Highness," he murmured, his dark eyes dancing with amusement.

She smiled sweetly. "You know what that means, don't you?"

He gave her a questioning look, suddenly wary.

"It means I should finally be allowed to race!" she exclaimed. She had been looking forward to racing ever since had gotten up on High Flyer ... Well, after she had gotten over her initial fright, that was.

The stableboy's uneasiness was almost palpable. "Princess, I don't think--"

"Come on! You said you were impressed with me." She had to resist from slicing the air with her whip in frustration. If she couldn't race, then she would certainly burst!

"Yes, but--"

"Please," she begged, staring at him pleadingly. She *had* to feel the wind through her hair and the heavy beats of the horse beneath her. She had to feel alive.

***

It was her wide brown eyes that did him in. She looked so sad and pitiful, and Clarkent melted. "All right," he conceded with a sigh.

He had been around the princess far too much if she was able to break his defenses so easily. She had been coming to the stable almost every day, and he had really looked forward to their rides together. As one of the older stableboys, it was his job to help give lessons to prospective riders. However, since the princess was such a quick study, the lessons had quickly dissolved into outings.

Billy had commented that he had much prefer Clarkent be the one to ride with the princess, as she was feisty enough that he wanted no part in it. The other stableboys had heard many stories about the princess's petulance, and they had agreed with Billy's sentiments. Only Geralph seemed unhappy that Clarkent was hobnobbing with royalty, and he'd made a nasty comment about Clarkent shirking off work to lick the princess's boots.

As an older stableboy, Clarkent was allotted some time off during the week. Since his outings with the princess typically didn't occur during that time, he came in during those hours to work. Even during his regular hours, he worked harder than ever before, not wanting there to be any truth to Geralph's belief that he was getting less work done. Dwayne made no comments one way or the other, perhaps realizing that a happy princess made for a happier stable. In any case, the stable's upkeep did not suffer in the slight.

The princess perked up at Clarkent's concession that they race, and she exclaimed, "Wonderful!" She looked around for a second and then pointed. "I will race you to that tree!"

And then, without even saying "go," she was off. Her horse broke into a trot and then a spirited canter, and Clarkent was staring after them for a second before he spurred Esroh Repus on.

High Flyer loved speed, but perhaps he understood the novice nature of his rider, as he wasn't giving it his all. Such meant that Clarkent was able to bring Repus up beside her, and for that, he was glad. What they were doing was making him nervous.

The princess glanced over at him in surprise, obviously upset to have lost her advantage. "You are a good horse-handler," she commented breathlessly.

Clarkent simply smiled. Repus stretched out his neck and pulled ahead of High Flyer by a nose. Clarkent, pleased with his horse, smirked.

"You are not winning that easily," Loisette muttered under her breath as she urged her horse to break into a full gallop.

He laughed, only to smile a little harder when he saw that the princess was fighting a grin of her own. And then Esroh Repus was right beside High Flyer again, his hooves making gouges in the ground beneath him.

"It's almost like flying," Clarkent called out to her.

"You think *this* is flying? I'll show you flying!" Loisette exclaimed.

And then High Flyer began moving even faster, his mane whipping back with the wind as he did what he loved best: run.

But Clarkent's mood abruptly darkened as High Flyer put on another burst of speed. A large rock loomed ahead, almost entirely covered by tall grass, and Clarkent realized that High Flyer intended to jump it. The princess, who was too busy laughing, didn't see it. "Pull to the right!" he shouted.

But she simply turned to look at him in confusion, and then it was too late.

The horse leapt over the rock, clearing it easily. But his rider, unprepared for the jolting motion, was flung through the air and landed in a heap on the ground.

Clarkent choked out a noise that only vaguely resembled the word "no," and he jerked back on Esroh Repus's reins and leapt off him.

The realization roared through his mind--he'd killed the princess!

He rushed toward her body and dropped down beside her, the story of Gareth flashing briefly into his head. "Princess," he whispered, his voice breaking.

When a groan was emitted by the crumpled princess, he nearly cried in relief. And then, as he helped the girl sit up, he realized that she *was* crying.

"Are you okay, Your Highness?" he asked her, afraid to touch her anymore lest he cause her more pain.

Princess Loisette nodded, but her eyes were still tearing up, and she didn't speak.

"I'll help you get back to the castle," he told her. "Then I'll worry about the horses."

The princess wiped her eyes on her sleeve and then looked at him. "No," she whispered with a strange firmness.

Clarkent furrowed his brow. "Princess--"

"I'm not going back to the castle right now." Her voice was as hard as the rock that had almost killed her. "I have been afraid of everything for too long. I'm getting back on the horse."

"I don't--" he began, but a glare from the princess caused him to cut off.

Clarkent watched as she got shakily to her feet. He tried to reach an arm out to help her, but she pushed it away. She turned to look at High Flyer, who had stopped running and was now grazing several yards away.

Clarkent gave a loud whistle, and the horse came trotting over obediently. Rather than appearing sheepish, High Flyer just seemed bored. Clarkent narrowed his eyes ... but reminded himself it was a horse. He couldn't expect High Flyer to react like a human. The horse didn't know he had done anything wrong.

Hobbling, the princess managed to walk over to her mount. Once there, however, she ran into a problem. She turned to Clarkent and bit her lip. She obviously didn't want to ask for the help she needed.

Clarkent quietly walked up behind her and held his arms out. She turned around with a nod, and he put his hands around her slender waist and lifted her up sideways. She managed to scramble up onto the horse with a quick intake of breath, and he brought his arms back down.

Refraining from commenting on her pain, Clarkent cast his eyes about in hunt of her whip. After a little searching, he found where it had been tossed into the tall grass, and he walked with it to the princess. He held it up to her, and she took it with a mumbled expression of gratitude.

There was a strange sort of pressure in his chest. He didn't like this. For reasons he couldn't comprehend, he felt an overwhelming urge to protect the princess. She seemed so frail and so detached from the world ... But he could also remember that fire he had seen in her when she told the story of Gareth and Gawain. She was a bundle of contradictions, an utter enigma.

Clarkent mounted Esroh Repus, who hadn't moved since Clarkent had jumped off him. Taking in a deep breath, Clarkent looked at the princess with worry. "Maybe ... " he began hesitantly, " ... umm, maybe you should ride a different horse."

She stared at him, and it was obvious she knew what he was thinking. She knew he was trying to protect her from being hurt. Pointedly, she looked down at her horse and--with a kick and a flick--brought him first to a walk, then to a trot, then to a canter, and finally to a gallop. She raced off, calling back after him, "Catch me if you can, Clark!"

He sat there in bewilderment for a handful of moments. She had called him "Clark" rather than "Clarkent." He'd never had any sort of nickname before, and while "Clark" was simply a shortened form of his name, he liked it.

Kicking his horse, Clarkent brought Repus after her. He noticed she clutched the front of her saddle with one hand this time, wary about falling off again. He suddenly felt awful about insisting she ride sidesaddle. Maybe she wouldn't have fallen off High Flyer if she had been riding astride like a man.

"Hyah!" he said with a grunt, urging Repus to go faster. The horse obeyed, stretching his neck forward.

The princess twisted to look at him, and as she realized how far behind he was, she smiled, and her laughter floated back to Clarkent. Something inside him loved the sound.

But it wasn't long before the princess brought her horse to a halt, and in puzzlement he pulled up beside her. Standing in front of her was Peri. But what was interesting to Clarkent was the black-headed bird perched on Peri's shoulder.

It was a Peregrine Falcon, that much was clear, but it had neither jesses on its legs nor a hood on its head. Instead, it seemed perfectly content to sit where it was.

"Good day," Peri greeted them. "Your Highness--please ... call me 'Peri.'"

The princess gave him a weird look but nodded.

Seeing Clarkent staring at the bird, Peri noted, "This here is James. He's a good friend of mine."

The bird opened his mouth and made a small chattering noise, and Clarkent frowned. It had almost seemed like the bird had understood him.

Peri turned to the princess. "Are you all right, Your Highness? We saw you fall."

"I'm fine," she answered, her face tight.

Peri tilted his head, obviously not believing her. He lifted a hand and beckoned for her to come down off her horse.

There was a stubborn look on her face, but Peri met it with a look just as stubborn, and she sighed, giving up. She glanced tentatively at Clarkent for assistance. He dropped down off his horse and moved to help her. He reached up to get her, and she fell forward into his arms. His knees bent a little at the suddenness of her weight, but he was able to set her on the ground gently.

Peri stared at her expectantly, and she walked with reluctance over to him. She was still shaky on her feet, and it was obvious she was under some pain.

His brow furrowed, Peri pulled a palm-sized pouch out from underneath his cloak. He opened the pouch and brought out a small white flower. "Here," he told the princess, handing it to her after squeezing it gently in his fist. "Eat this. It'll help with any injuries."

Clarkent was a bit uneasy that Peri was feeding strange things to the princess, but--for some odd reason--he trusted the man.

The princess looked down at the flower with an uncertain expression and then quickly thrust it into her mouth. She made a face as she chewed and then swallowed. "It's bitter," she complained.

Peri laughed. "Often, what's good for us isn't something we want. Medicine seems to especially suffer from that problem. They say the more foul-tasting the medicine, the more beneficial for you it is."

James opened his beak and let out a sort of "rep rep" noise, and the princess smiled at him. "Did you think that was funny?" she asked him.

He made a different noise, and the princess frowned this time. "It almost sounded like you said 'yes.' But that's silly ... "

Clarkent didn't miss the look Peri gave her, though he didn't know what it meant. Clarkent felt like there was something going on he didn't understand, but he didn't even know how to begin going about understanding it.

The princess turned to the gray-headed man. "I feel better already," she admitted.

"Good," he replied with a smile. "Then I'll, uh, say goodbye to you both here. Try to be more careful."

As he turned, the falcon lifted up off his shoulder and flew several feet above his head, once again making the "rep rep" sound.

Clarkent and the princess watched the two leave. Frowning in contemplation, Clarkent reflected that he was almost certain he had seen that bird before. There were a lot of birds out there, so it was possible he was imagining it, but James really did seem familiar ...

He shrugged the mystery away and then turned to the princess. "Would you like to get back on High Flyer, Your Highness?"

She nodded. "Yes. I would."

***

Chapter 5: A Villain and a Villanelle

The next day, Alexander was walking through a castle hallway after discussing a missive with the king. He was nineteen now, having turned of age two years before, but he was feeling every bit of his adulthood today. The king was but putty in his hands, and Alexander was making more contacts in the castle all the time. When his father had died several months ago, Alexander had taken his place as the highest-ranking Noble in Metropolita. For some, that would have been a great honor. But for him, it wasn't good enough. *He* intended to climb to the top--and as King Samuel's cousin and nearest male relation, his claim to the throne came just after Princess Loisette's ... which meant he was very close to the top indeed.

Though he'd had nothing to do with the death of his father, it had been one part of his plan to rise. He hadn't felt the loss of his sire any more than he had felt the loss of his mother a decade previously. His younger brother had been just as unaffected both times. Their entire family had always been emotionally detached from each other.

Alexander was walking through the castle in an attempt to find one of his castle spies when he ran across the princess. She was a little less than eight years younger than him, which meant he practically loomed over her. Still, he put on a kind smile and gave an elegant bow. "Your Highness," he greeted.

"Duke," she returned with a slight nod. Her hands were holding on to two small simnel cakes, and she was presumably trying to go outside with them.

As he studied her, a thoughtful frown touched his face. Before, her health had been such that he had marveled that she continued to last even a day. Now, however, something seemed to be breathing life into her. Her cheeks--once pale as newly fallen snow--were beginning to get some color in them. There was also a happiness in her bearing that had been lacking before. He had thought--and perhaps hoped--that she wouldn't even make it to thirteen. Now, however, he had to withdraw that judgment and render a new one. If this improvement was real, then it was possible she was truly a valid candidate for the throne.

He gave her another warm smile, trying to inject all the pleasantness he could muster into his face. "How is the day treating you, Your Highness?"

She smiled back at him. "It is treating me well, Alexander."

"Indulging your sweet tooth?" he asked her, gesturing toward the cakes in her hand.

She looked down at the simnel cakes, and her cheeks flushed. "Y-yes. I am."

Based on the girl's thinness, he suspected she was carrying one--if not both--of the cakes for someone else, but he didn't press the issue. He had better things to do than interrogate a child about baked goods. "Please, don't let me keep you from enjoying them, Your Highness." He bowed again, and she smiled one last time before continuing on her way.

He watched as she left. Once she was out of sight, a villainous smile crossed his face. Perhaps it would not be too difficult to fit her into his plans.

***

As Clarkent brushed the constantly shifting Penelope Grace, he found himself anxious rather than annoyed. Though the horse was obviously trying to make the grooming process as difficult as possible for him, his thoughts were not on her ... but on the princess.

She had normally already arrived at the stable by this time, and he was beginning to think that perhaps she wasn't going to come at all. And that worried him.

Had she told her father about falling off her horse and been forbidden to return? Had she been hurt worse than he thought? What if something else had happened to her?

At last, however, she walked through the stable entrance, a smile on her face and no discernible limp her in step. His relief was such that he actually exhaled audibly. "Your Highness," he greeted. Then, unable to help himself, he ventured, "Are you feeling better?"

She nodded. "I am."

"I'm glad," he murmured shyly. He studied her for a few seconds, wanting to ensure that she really *was* better, and he realized something. She seemed happier--and even ... healthier. Or was he just imagining it? It was getting harder and harder to remember the petulant little girl that had first come into the stable. Now, she had been replaced by someone he enjoyed spending time with--someone who treated him as a person and not just a stableboy.

Despite that, he often felt awkward around her and occasionally found himself tongue tied. But he was still genuinely glad to see her every time she came to the stable--even if she was a spoiled brat of a princess. <*All right,>* he amended. <*Maybe she's not a *complete *brat.*>

She had two small cakes in her hands, and he found his eyes drawn to them. Upon seeing him look at them, she smiled and told him, "I brought these for us--one for me and one for you." She held one out toward him.

He stepped forward hesitantly. The *princess* had brought him something?

As he took the cake from her, he felt a warmth spread in his cheeks, and he mumbled, "Th-thank you, Princess."

She smiled. "What is your favorite kind of cake? Simnel cakes are my favorite."

He stared down at his cake for a moment. "My mother makes really good Bryndons."

"Does she make them for you a lot?"

Clarkent's face hardened. "I only get them once a year, Your Highness."

She tilted her head. "Do you get them on a holiday?"

He felt a heavy pressure in his chest, and he closed his eyes briefly and then opened them. "Visiting Day," he said softly. Those two words were all he needed to express himself. That was the only day of the year where he could see his parents.

She looked down at her cake, her face a little sad. "I see."

"I don't get cake any other time. The castle has better things to do than make cakes for stableboys, Princess." He gave her a smile, but it was forced. He missed his parents terribly.

"That's nice that your mother makes you cake," she commented, still looking sorrowful. "She must--she must love you very much."

"She does," he said firmly. "Both my parents do. They mean the world to me--and I to them, Your Highness."

"What is it like?" she asked him. Seeing his look of confusion, she quickly added, "Having a mother?"

He stared at her, tracing the lines of grief in her face. It had to be hard--being a princess without a mother. Her father was probably busy all the time, so who did she talk to? Did she have many friends?

"It's nice," he told her softly. "I don't get to see her often, but ... She gives me things and worries about me. She asks about my life ... and my dreams. I think a lot about the day when I'll leave the castle and get to see her and my father whenever I want."

She took a bite of her simnel cake, looking lost in thought, and he stared down at his own cake for a few moments before finally biting it. The flavors of the cake were so different from his usual fare, and he relished every bite. It was only rare that he got to have any kind of dessert, and to have one sprung upon him like this was a very pleasant surprise. In fact, it--along with the conversation he had just had--made him feel guilty for all his negative thoughts about the princess. Maybe he'd been judging her too harshly. Maybe he hadn't been seeing the whole her. He had been looking at a false image that had been constructed of her--the princess, not the person.

He ate the cake slowly, but it didn't last long. The princess's had been eaten much faster, and she was already standing by High Flyer's stall and rubbing his nose, her earlier sorrowful mood either gone or masked. Clarkent moved to stand beside her, and she turned and started as she realized how close he was.

"Are you ready to go, Your Highness?" he asked her. He might have been amused at her reaction if he was not still feeling a little morose.

"Yes," she said, moving to pat High Flyer once more. "I am."

***

As they rode through the field, Loisette stared upward. A falcon--was it James?--soared overhead in the clear blue sky. She longed to be up there with the bird, rising above the concerns of everyone on the ground, but she was stuck where she was.

With a heavy sigh, she dropped her eyes to the grass. A pretty red flower caught her eye, and on impulse she brought High Flyer to a stop. She looked down at the ground with a wary eye and then slid off the horse.

"Princess," the stableboy called out nervously. He brought his horse beside her and then dropped to the ground. "Is something wrong?" His concern for her might have been charming if it weren't so annoying.

"Nothing is wrong," she told him as she knelt on the grass. She reached a hand out and picked the flower, lifting it to her nose and inhaling its aroma. She clutched it to her chest and then looked back up at the sky with a sigh.

"Your Highness," Clarkent asked hesitantly, "do you want help back on your horse?"

Loisette turned to look at High Flyer, who was simply standing and awaiting guidance. On his bridle gleamed a small golden medallion with the royal seal on it--a rearing pegasus.

"I wish I had a pegasus," she said softly.

***

When the princess expressed her wish for a pegasus, Clarkent immediately frowned, not understanding her. "A pegasus, Your Highness?" Where had *that* come from?

She swiveled to look at him. "A pegasus. A winged horse."

"I know what a pegasus is, Your Highness," he said, annoyed. "It's on the royal seal."

"They're wonderful creatures," the princess said with a dreamy sigh. "Peregrine the White once told me a story about how my mother was able to ride one."

Clarkent raised his brow. "*You* know Peregrine the White?"

She gave him a funny look. "Of course. He's my father's court magician."

*<Oh, right,*> Clarkent thought, feeling a bit embarrassed. Of course she associated with such an important man. She probably knew all of the Nobles as well. Out loud, he said, "You want a pegasus, Your Highness?"

"Think how exciting it would be to fly through the air on one!" she exclaimed.

"And how painful it would be to fall from one," he countered. He hadn't meant to sound so grouchy, so he softened his voice and asked, "Would you like help back on High Flyer, Your Highness?"

She sighed again, presumably sad since she lacked a pegasus to ride, and then she suddenly perked up. "No. I do not."

"No?" he echoed.

"I want to dance!" she exclaimed.

From the way she looked at him, Clarkent could tell immediately that she didn't mean a solo dance. And he also knew immediately that he was going to have to disappoint her. "I'm--I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I can't dance."

"I can teach you!" she proclaimed. "After all, you taught me how to ride horses."

He shook his head adamantly. "I can't dance with a princess--"

"That is just silly. There is no reason why you can't dance with me."

"Your Highness--"

"*Clark*," she returned firmly, "I order you to dance with me."

He sighed, knowing he couldn't win this argument--especially not after she had made it an order. "Yes, Your Highness."

Perhaps he seemed too downtrodden, for her excitement level dropped a little. "You don't *really* mind, do you?"

"I guess not," he mumbled. Mostly, he didn't want to make a fool out of himself.

She dropped the red flower to the ground and commanded, "Now, put your hand on my waist." When he didn't move, she grabbed his hand and placed it there. Then she grabbed his other hand and held it in the air with hers. "I'm going to sing a song. There are four beats to this, so it shouldn't be too hard. I will lead you--do what I do."

"Okay," he murmured, uncomfortable at being this close to the princess.

"Take my hand and dance with me," she began to sing, not missing his ironic smile at her song choice. He awkwardly tried to step with her but only managed to step on her toes. As a result, her next words came out with a bit of a hitch: "D-dawn is coming, end of day." She shook her head at him and said, "Stop staring at your feet. Look at my face. *Feel* the music." Then she sang, "Life could end so happily."

"S-sorry," he told her, flushing as he once again mashed her toes.

"All right," she said, looking perturbed. "Think about the beat--one ... two ... three ... four ... " And then she sang the next verse:

"Staring at me quietly,

You can take my breath away.

Take my hand and dance with me."

This time, he managed to avoid her toes, but he was very much *not* in time with the beat. She simply laughed away her frustrations this time--"You really aren't a good dancer, are you?"

"Maybe you're not a good teacher," he shot back, a bit surprised at his audacity.

But she simply rolled her eyes and continued:

"Stars are staring at our glee.

Envying our life, sigh they,

'Life could end so happily.'"

"It's daylight," he murmured contrarily, finally feeling himself fall into the natural rhythm of the song.

Ignoring him again and pasting a solemn expression on her face, she sang:

"Know they not we cannot be.

Know they not how hard I pray,

'Take my hand and dance with me.'"

"I thought that's what I was doing," he said with a smirk.

There was a crack in her solemn facade, but she kept on:

"Parting takes the breath in me.

Imagining you're here to stay--

*Life could end so happily*."

He didn't make a snarky comment this time, instead allowing himself to listen to her voice as she sang the villanelle. She had a beautiful singing voice--there was something sweet and innocent about it, something that tugged at his heartstrings. He had heard the song before, but it had been sung faster and less respectfully. She actually managed to inject feeling into the villanelle, and he found he enjoyed both listening to her and dancing with her.

As she finished the song, he found himself growing sad:

"Tears are falling as you flee.

All we had was just a day--

... Take my hand and dance with me.

Life could end so happily."

With her guidance, he spun her into a suitable ending position. She held the position for a few seconds and then relaxed. Beaming at him, she said, "See--you can dance!"

He smiled. "I guess my teacher wasn't so bad after all."

"Well, I had good teachers myself," she admitted. "But I still am surprised you didn't know this dance."

Clarkent released the hand he hadn't realized he'd still been holding, and he stepped away from the princess. "There isn't much time in the stable to practice dancing," he told her gruffly.

"I guess not," she said softly.

"I should--I should probably be getting back." It was one thing to be riding horses with the princess--and quite another to be dancing with her.

"All--all right," she stammered. "Thank you for dancing with me."

He nodded as he went to stand by High Flyer. She came up to him and placed her hands on his shoulders, looking like she wanted to say something to him. But before she could, he lifted her into the air, and she had to struggle to get seated properly on her mount.

Clarkent went over to Esroh Repus and got up on his back. As the princess guided High Flyer into a walk, he stared at her grimly. He was a stableboy. And the princess couldn't be friends with a stableboy. That wasn't how it worked.

Before long, she would find some new pastime, and he wouldn't see her anymore. As much as he wanted to think of her as a friend--well, it just couldn't be.

He was a lowly stableboy. And that was all he would ever be.

***

Chapter 6: Gawain and the Barbarian Kingdom

Weeks later, Alexander, the Duke of Lutheria, was sitting at the dinner table with his brother. He was bringing a leg of mutton to his mouth when his brother made a comment:

"You're thinking about the princess again, aren't you?"

Alexander's eyes flicked to meet his brother's. It was true. He had come to the conclusion that the princess could be called weak and sickly no more, so she was occupying his thoughts. There was no doubting the color in her cheeks or the bounce in her steps. She was even slowly beginning to fill out--it would be a while before she had her womanly curves, but she was certainly on her way. For someone who was still a child, she was becoming remarkably attractive. Before long, she would be properly termed a "beauty."

Instead of responding to his younger brother, Alexander took a bite of his food. But he couldn't concentrate on its taste. There was too much on his mind.

"You wish to have her for yourself," persisted Tempos after taking a sip of wine.

Alexander looked calmly at his brother. His voice was level as he said, "That's absurd."

As the younger son, Tempos was doomed to stand in Alexander's shadow. Their father's title and most of his property had gone to Alexander, and Tempos had been forced to pursue the path of knighthood to attain a name for himself. But his jealousy toward his older brother always simmered beneath the surface, and Alexander knew to tread carefully. Such was why he was denying that he wished to take the princess for himself.

But Tempos's heart was just as black as Alexander's, and they knew each other well. "Don't lie to me brother," Tempos said dryly, plopping a grape into his mouth. "You'll poke my eye out with your nose."

Alexander pursed his lips. "I assure you--I have better things to think about than a child."

Tempos gave him an obviously fake smile. "Not when that child happens to be royalty."

Alexander fell into silence, his thoughts indeed wholly settled on the princess. He had recently received news that the princess had been spending an inordinate amount of time with a stableboy, and that news had disturbed him greatly.

"I doubt she will be able to hold a candle to your mistresses," Tempos said lazily. "But give her a few years."

Alexander refused to rise to the bait. Tempos was certainly not one to talk when it came to women. Though a little less than a year younger than Alexander, Tempos had already had three wives, all of whom had disappeared under mysterious circumstances--mysterious, that was, to everyone but Tempos and Alexander, the latter of whom had worked diligently to cover up the "accidents." Had Tempos been stupid, Alexander probably wouldn't have bothered, even if it did tarnish the family name, but Tempos knew enough of Alexander's heart to be a threat, and Alexander always wanted him nearby--no dungeon could hold Tempos for long ... He was sure of it.

"You must be careful, though," warned Tempos. "I hear the princess has quite a temper."

Alexander scoffed, "Women with tempers are easily dealt with."

Tempos let loose a villainous laugh. "You're quite right about that, brother."

"And besides," Alexander commented as he brought his goblet up to his lips, "a little temper is a small price to pay for a kingdom."

"I suppose that's true as well."

As he took a sip of wine, Alexander reflected that he would have to speak with the king about that stableboy. Though the relationship between the boy and the princess might have been innocent enough for the time being, it could soon escalate into something much more.

And he would not have his future wife deflowered by some *peasant*. What was Alexander's ... was Alexander's alone.

***

Loisette was chattering to Robert Bigmouth as he ate a sliver of cheese. "And then High Flier began nibbling at Clark's livery!" she finished with a laugh. "You should have seen the look on Clark's face!"

A knock on the door caused her to turn her head and Robert Bigmouth to scurry away. She stood and called out, "Come in."

Her father swept into the room like an angry storm cloud, and her cheerful mood immediately fled. "I just received some disturbing news, Princess," the king said, his voice dangerously low. "It seems you have been associating daily with a mere *stableboy*?"

She crossed her arms, putting on a calm front but feeling secretly frightened. She had never seen her father this furious before. "He has been teaching me how to ride horses, Daddy."

"I should think you would have learned all you needed to know by now."

"Daddy--"

"Princess, you should not be freely associating with stableboys and their ilk. If you wish to ride a horse, then you must take your lady-in-waiting with you."

"But I don't have--"

Her father cut her off again: "I have now found you the last lady-in-waiting you shall be given. Her name is Catherine, and she is the daughter of an earl who is very loyal to me. I expect you to treat her with the respect due to her." He glared down at her. "You had better not lose this one, Loisette, or you will regret it."

"Daddy--" she began one last time in desperation, but he would have none of her pleas.

"She will arrive tomorrow night," he said firmly. "I had better not hear anything else about you being alone with that boy again. He is a servant, not a friend, and you would do well to remember that." And then he stalked out of the room, the door slamming loudly behind him.

Loisette collapsed on the ground and burst out into tears. She pounded the floor with a feeble fist, feeling utterly helpless. She had finally been enjoying her life and opening her eyes to the outside world, and then her father had to spring this on her. So *what* if she was becoming friends with a stableboy? He was a human being, too! What her father was doing to her wasn't fair! She had done nothing wrong!

A small squeak came to her ears, and she turned her tear-filled eyes to see Robert Bigmouth poking his head out of his hole. She made a little motion with a smidgen of cheese still held between her fingers, and he hurried over. She picked him up and began crying into his fur. "I don't know what to do, Robert," she sobbed. "I just don't know what to do."

***

Clarkent was mucking out Agides's stall when a stranger came into the stable.

It was a boy smaller and younger than Clarkent. He had on a hat and rugged clothes, and he stood in the entryway staring awkwardly around, almost as if frightened someone would jump out and yell at him to leave.

Clarkent finished what he was doing and then walked over to the boy. "Can I help you?" he asked, leaning on his pitchfork.

"I--I want to h-help you," stuttered the boy. "Umm. In the stable ... with ... the horses."

Frowning, Clarkent queried, "Why would you want to do that?"

"I like horses," the boy said, his voice almost a whimper. "You'll let me stay, won't you?"

Clarkent sighed. They *were* a little short staffed--Dwayne was gone for the day, and one of the stableboys was sick. Assistance, while unexpected, would certainly be welcome. "You can help," Clarkent conceded, "but it isn't very fun. We're mucking out stalls right now."

"A-all right," the boy said with some hesitance. "Whatever you want."

Clarkent got out another pitchfork and handed it to the stranger. "I'm Clarkent," he said, realizing he hadn't introduced himself. "What's your name?"

The boy made a short intake of breath and looked down at the long tool in his hand while biting his lip. "My name--my name is Gawain."

Clarkent raised an eyebrow, remembering the princess's story about what had happened to Gareth. "Like the famous knight," he commented, picking his own pitchfork back up. He wondered if the princess was going to come to the stable that day. It would probably be easier if he would simply start asking her when she was going to come, but for some reason, he didn't want to do that.

"Y-yeah," Gawain acknowledged. "My father ... loved knights."

Clarkent tilted his head and studied the boy for a few seconds. "You're not running from someone, are you? If you need somewhere to hide--"

"No!" the boy insisted. Looking a little sheepish at his sharpness, he added, "That's not it."

Clarkent squinted, feeling dubious as to whether that was the truth or not, but it wasn't his place to question Gawain. And besides, if the other boy was hiding from someone, there was probably a good reason for it.

"You ever mucked out stalls before?" Clarkent asked.

"No," admitted Gawain.

"It's easy. The manure and the wet straw go in the wheelbarrow--don't fill it up all the way, or it'll get too heavy to move. Then, we go dump it. Next, we put fresh straw in. It's as easy as that."

"All--all right."

Gawain waited until Clarkent had put a few pitchforkfuls in the wheelbarrow before beginning. His movements were awkward, and he was obviously not used to manual labor.

Clarkent watched him inconspicuously for a few minutes before finally asking in as casual a voice as he could manage, "Who are you Assigned to?"

"Assigned to?" the boy echoed. He looked down at his hands, and Clarkent couldn't make out his expression. "Umm, I work in the castle."

"For who?"

"I--I run errands for the cook." Gawain slowly dipped his pitchfork back into the dirty bedding. "But the cook doesn't like me, so I only ... only run errands in the morning. The cook doesn't have to see me then in the afternoons." He looked up at Clarkent and gave him a slight smile. "It's sometimes hard to find things to do, though. That's why I'm here."

Clarkent continued mucking out the stall, reflecting that Gawain must be fairly fortunate to not be required to work all the time. Then again--Clarkent was pretty fortunate himself. For one thing, he was allotted some time off now that he was thirteen. And for another--it was far better that he be under the control of Dwayne rather than Stable Master Kile. Kile was someone who would just as soon torment those under his command as direct them--and that included his horse-smart but world-dumb brother, Viktor. It could always be worse.

As they worked, Clarkent fell into silence, but Gawain started to become obviously antsy.

Finally, Gawain asked, "Have you ever met the princess? I heard--I heard she started riding horses recently. Have you seen her?"

"Yes," Clarkent answered, feeling awkward. "I--I taught her how to ride."

"What do you think about her?"

Clarkent hesitated. He hated sharing something like this with a complete stranger, but it felt nice to be able to talk to someone about it. "I think--I think she needs a friend."

"Why do you think that?"

"I think maybe it's hard to be royalty--everyone treats royalty differently." Clark gave a lopsided grin. "Guess you can't blame them. The king and the princess *are* our superiors ... "

"Not everyone treats royalty respectfully," Gawain said casually. "Do you know much about the Barbarian Kingdom?"

Clarkent shook his head. "I know they're our enemies," he offered.

"Well, it wasn't always that way," Gawain noted. "Maybe a century ago, the Barbarian Kingdom was once united with Metropolita. They made up a kingdom called Solaria. They broke apart, but eventually they reached a truce and stopped warring. In the past decade or so, though, the Barbarian Kingdom started the war with Metropolita again."

Clarkent frowned. "Why did they start the war again?"

"Well, I don't know for sure," Gawain admitted, "but I think it's because of the past two kings. The father of the present Barbarian King killed and deposed the rightful king. His son took over when he died, but they have both seemed to like war."

"Does King Samuel like the war?" Clarkent asked out of curiosity.

Gawain shook his head. "I don't think so."

Though fascinated by this political tale he had known nothing about, Clarkent ventured, "Is this all really true?"

Gawain stabbed his pitchfork into the ground. "Of course it is!" He peered at Clarkent for a few seconds. "I'll even tell you more about the Barbarian Kingdom tomorrow. How about that?"

Clarkent considered it and then smiled. "I think I'd like that."

They worked a while longer, and then Gawain left.

***

Clarkent was busy the rest of the day with his stableboy duties, but at one point, Peri came in to see him.

"Clarkent," greeted the older man, "I hope you're having a good day?" There was an almost furtive look about him, though Clarkent wasn't sure why that would be.

Dismissing the notion, Clarkent acknowledged with a smile, "I am. I even made a new friend."

"You did?" Peri said, his level of interest higher than Clarkent would have expected. "And, uh, what was this friend's name?"

"Gawain," Clarkent answered slowly.

The older man frowned. "I don't know anyone by that name at the castle ..."

"There are a lot of people at the castle," Clarkent pointed out.

"You're right," Peri murmured. "Still--a name like that ... Well, just be careful around him, son."

"All right," the stableboy said, puzzled as to why it would matter.

The older man told him farewell, and Clarkent watched him go. With a shrug, he went back to work, brushing off the encounter.

That night, he was rather sad the princess never showed up.

***

Chapter 7: An Impish Plan

The next day, Clarkent had to help a rather rude knight saddle his horse, and then he returned to grooming Penelope Grace, who was extremely dirty *again*. After about two blissful and problem-free minutes, she stepped on his foot. It was all he could do to keep from kicking her to make her move.

"Get off," he gritted, pushing her with his shoulder.

He successfully managed to unbalance her, and the blasted horse finally moved, giving his foot back. He lifted his leg with a wince, glad he was wearing such thick boots. If not for them, he might be missing a toe or two.

Resuming his grooming grudgingly, he reflected with some sadness that he still hadn't seen the princess since the day before last. Maybe she was done with riding forever--perhaps it had just been a phase. He wished he knew the reason for certain. However, she was a princess, and he couldn't exactly go track her down, so it was going to remain a mystery.

At least that boy, Gawain, would be coming to visit. Gawain seemed like a bit of an odd one, and Clarkent couldn't easily forget Peri's words of warning, but the other boy probably just wanted a friend. And if Gawain really *did* work in the kitchen, Clarkent couldn't blame him for wanting to get away. The cook wasn't known for acts of kindness.

He looked up and saw the object of his thoughts walking through the stable entrance. Gawain was almost frolicking about as he came in. He appeared more comfortable in the stable than he had the day before, and when he saw Clarkent, he grinned widely.

"Hello!" Gawain said cheerfully.

"Hello," Clarkent returned, wondering what had caused such a change in mood.

Gawain tilted his head, looking at the curry comb in Clarkent's hand. "Grooming, huh?"

"Yeah. This cranky thing here is Penelope Grace." Clarkent gestured at the horse with his free hand, and the horse snorted, almost as if it understood him and disapproved of his insult.

"That's ... Queen Ellena's horse, isn't it?"

"Uh huh. You can tell she used to belong to royalty--she's more spoiled than a barrel of rotten apples."

Gawain smiled. "She must have been nice at *some* point if the queen liked her."

Clarkent shrugged. "I guess so."

Gawain shifted in place, his hesitancy obvious as he tried to formulate his next sentence. "Would you ... uh ... like to go out into the field?"

Clarkent glanced beside him at Penelope Grace. "I have to finish grooming some horses. But Billy's around and can help with riders, so I might have some free time in a little while ... " Clarkent had done a lot of work before he started grooming Penelope Grace, and Geralph had made a surprising amount of progress on mucking out stalls, so it was likely there would be time.

"What if I help you?" suggested Gawain. "With an extra hand grooming, you'll be done faster."

Frowning, Clarkent asked, "Have you groomed horses before?"

Gawain's eyes dropped down to his sleeve, and he picked an invisible piece of dust off it. "My ... my father had a horse. He--he used to let me help groom it."

"He must have really trusted you, as young as you would have been," Clarkent commented. Gawain would have been seven years old or younger when he was still with his parents.

"Yeah ... " trailed off Gawain. He seemed uncomfortable.

Clarkent considered Gawain's offer for a few seconds, and then he smiled. "Well, I guess if you're willing to help me, then I accept."

Beaming, Gawain exclaimed, "Great! This will be fun!"

And then Clarkent got out some more grooming supplies, and they set to work.

***

"Oh, come on! It's not that bad! I volunteered to be the girl!"

"This is silly!"

Gawain put his hands on his hips. "It's not silly--it's fun!"

Clarkent sighed. "Fine. I just wish I didn't have to be the bad guys." Not that he wanted to be the girl either. He was surprised Gawain had taken the role.

"I can't be the girl *and* the bad guys," Gawain noted in aggravation.

"What bad guy am I going to be first?" Clarkent asked, resigned to his fate as a player in this strange game of Gawain's.

"You're going to be one of the soldiers of the first Barbarian King. The first Barbarian King is the father of North."

"North?" echoed Clarkent, not completely understanding.

Gawain narrowed his eyes at Clarkent. "Don't you remember the things I was telling you? The first Barbarian King died recently, so his son took over. People say North's just as bad as his father was--if not worse."

"Uh, right," Clarkent mumbled.

"Now, the first Barbarian King killed the rightful king, as you should remember, and the queen ran away with their baby. He sent soldiers after the queen, and they captured her and killed her child. Then, the Barbarian King forced her to marry him--"

"That sounds depressing," Clarkent interrupted. It didn't sound like a very glorious story.

"Well, it is," Gawain said matter-of-factly. "But it's romantic--the queen wasted away after that, pining after her dead husband and child, and she only lived a few more years. She was killed when she tried to escape to Metropolita."

"And you know all this ... how?"

"I read about it in a book," Gawain said firmly.

"A book?" Clarkent echoed. Books were expensive, so how did Gawain have access to them? "From who?"

"From--from an old man, that's who! It doesn't matter. Look, are you going to act this out with me or not?"

Clarkent sighed. Gawain was a boy with a vivid imagination, but he was also a bit bossy. "All right," Clarkent conceded. "Fine--I'm a soldier." He picked up one of the sticks he and Gawain had gathered a few minutes before, and he held it out like a sword. "Stop, queen," he said in a voice that was suspiciously close to a monotone.

"No, that's wrong!" Gawain exclaimed. "You have to put feeling into it! You're a soldier who is going to be killed if he doesn't do what his master wants. You have to *feel* the role!"

Once again, Clarkent exhaled. It was going to be a long couple of hours.

***

Sometime later, a figure scurried down the castle hallway, suddenly ducking behind an ancient suit of armor upon hearing the light padding of footsteps.

The person causing the noise passed, and the hidden figure cautiously stepped out from behind the armor, pausing to listen only for a second before continuing on.

A few minutes later, the figure was rushing into a room.

Dirty fingers removed a blue dress and a pair of shoes from a trunk at the foot of the bed, and--holding the items with a little hesitance--the figure began turning in circles. The figure's spinning abruptly turned into a blur of color as the speed of the rotations became faster than the eye could follow. When the movement stopped, a princess with a blue dress and a very smug expression was staring down at a set of boy's clothing. Pushing her long brown hair behind her back, she stuffed the clothes into the trunk under a blanket, where they would be hidden from immediate view. She felt immensely proud of herself and pleased with how her day had gone.

She heard a small noise that indicated Robert Bigmouth was coming out and wanting food, so she looked into a drawer and found some cheese for her small friend.

Princess Loisette knelt on the floor and held out the food, and Robert Bigmouth came rushing over in excitement. He climbed into her hands to nibble at the cheese, and she stroked his back absentmindedly, her thoughts wholly focused on something that had happened a few days before ...

~~~

*Flashback*

~~~

"*I don't know what to do, Robert," she sobbed. "I just don't know what to do."*

*The little mouse stared up at her, but it was obvious he didn't know what to do either.*

"*I want to run away," she told him, her chin trembling. "But I don't know where to go." She set the mouse down on the ground and buried her face in her hands. "I wanted Clark to be my friend. But I guess that can't ever be."*

*Robert Bigmouth seemed to realize he wasn't going to be fed, and he returned to his hole. Loisette stood up suddenly, wiping her red eyes with her hands. She was going to go outside at least. Her father couldn't deny her that.*

*She almost ran through the castle in her effort to get outside, sick of the dark walls of the place, sick of the cold hard stone, sick of her confined world ... sick of being a princess.*

*And then she burst out into the sunlight, glad that at least it could warm her skin, if not her heart. She broke out into a true run, only to halt abruptly as she almost ran into someone.*

"*S-sorry," she stuttered, certain the man had not been there a moment ago.*

*He was wearing a strange black robe with white ruffles on the sleeves and useless brass buttons down the front of it. His hair was black and curly, and his mustache extended downward to his chin. There was a slightly manic yet gleeful look in his eyes that immediately set Loisette on edge, and the staff he held in his right hand didn't make her feel any better.*

"*That's all right, Your Highness!" he said, holding his hands up. "I must say--it is *so* nice to see you."*

*She frowned. "Who are you?"*

*He held up a finger and gave her a slight smile. "Ah! No, no. You see, bad things happen when people say my name. I'm afraid I must simply ask you to call me something else--perhaps 'Imp' would be best. I think I like that."*

"*All right, Imp," she said hesitantly.*

*His smile grew. "Great! Now, I can see from your face that you've been crying. Would you like to tell me what's wrong?"*

*She averted her gaze to the ground and mumbled, "It was something my father said."*

*Imp stepped lightly toward her with a knowing gleam in his eyes. "Hmm ... let me think ... He doesn't want you hanging out with the stableboy anymore, does he?"*

*She looked at him sharply. "How did you know that?"*

"*The walls have ears," he told her. "Well--not literally. But if you have the power, you can spy on all sorts of things. And I happen to have that power."*

"*Why are you spying on people in the castle?" she asked him, wary.*

*He waved his hands in the air. "No matter. What matters is that I can help you. I have something you want."*

"*And what is that?"*

*His dark eyes danced. "Well, you want to be with the stableboy without your father finding out, don't you?"*

*She hesitated and then nodded.*

"*Well, I can give you that!" He moved his arms in a big twirling motion in the air and then bowed, extending his hand downward. There was a flash of light, and then something appeared on the ground where his hand was pointing.*

*Loisette gasped. He was a magician.*

*Oblivious to her surprise, Imp crouched and picked up the items, holding them out for her to look at.*

*It was a boy's outfit. There were brown breeches and boots, a brown hat, and a brown and white tunic with a rearing golden pegasus sewn into the corner.*

"*It's a disguise," Imp told her excitedly as he straightened up. "The hat to cover your hair--the royal symbol to indicate you work for the castle ... Dressed as a boy, no one will ever give you a second glance! You'll be practically invisible!"*

*Loisette frowned. "I could find boy clothes myself--I don't have to take yours."*

"*Ah, yes," he acknowledged, "but they wouldn't be like these. My clothes are magic. You see, whenever you wear these, no human will be able to recognize you as anything other than a boy. Animals are too reliant on all their senses to be fooled, of course, but that's a small and irrelevant detail! And what's more--the clothes will grow as you do, so you don't even have to worry about that! They are loose on your body, which will be enough to hide your feminine curves ... " His eyebrows lifted, "That is--it will whenever you actually get them." He gave a small smile. "But even then, it won't matter, as the magic will force everyone to recognize you as male regardless." He leaned forward, as if about to tell her a secret. "The only catch is ... you can't let anybody know about the disguise."*

*She stared down at the clothes. Secrecy didn't seem like a big concession to make, but she didn't like it. She wanted to interact with Clarkent--and maybe others--in the outfit, and the thought of never being able to reveal her identity didn't sit well with her. What if she really liked the freedom it gave her? What if she needed to be able to tell someone her identity for some reason?*

"*That means you can't tell anyone about it or take it off while anyone else is around who can see you," Imp clarified. "You can't try to trick the magic. The clothes can come off, but not when anyone else is in the room with you."*

*She thought about it some more. It still didn't feel right ...*

"*I don't know," Loisette said, concerns fluttering around in her head like disturbed bats.*

"*Fine, fine," he said with a sigh. "I didn't actually think you would take them that easily--but you can't blame me for trying!" He clutched the clothes to his chest with one hand and tilted his head. "I'll let you in on a little secret. Much as it makes me roll my eyes to admit it, magic has one weakness."*

*Loisette looked at him in interest. "And what's that?"*

*As he'd noted, Imp was rolling his eyes as he told her the answer: "Love."*

"*Love?" she echoed.*

"*Yes," he said, twirling his free hand in the air. "It may sound a bit sappy, but love can break all sorts of spells in all sorts of ways."*

"*And what would love do with this ... disguise?"*

"*When--and only when--your true love proves himself willing to give up everything for you, then he will see you as you truly are, and the magic surrounding the clothes will disappear completely." Imp jiggled the clothes in his hand. "And if you put these on, that will make you a princess and a cross-dresser all wrapped up in one." He seemed to find something very amusing about that.*

*Loisette squinted at him in suspicion, a little annoyed. "I don't love anyone. Why should this make me feel better about accepting this?"*

*Imp exhaled loudly. Then he spoke in exasperation: "Surely the only person who it would ever be important for you to know your identity is your true love!"*

*She considered what he had told her. Would there really be a reason to tell someone about her disguise? A disguise would allow her freedom. Would she ever need to let anyone know the truth about it?*

*Imp did make a valid point--if there ever was someone who *would* need to know the truth, it would be her one true love. And she could always stop using the disguise at any time.*

"*What's in it for you?" she asked him, the thought suddenly occurring to her.*

*He smiled. "I'm a mischief-maker. And the king's daughter running around disguised as a boy sounds like the greatest kind of mischief, don't you think?"*

*She looked at him warily. He *did* seem like the type of person who liked mischief, but she didn't feel that was all to the story. "Is there anything else about these clothes that you aren't telling me?"*

"*Well--there is one really cool part that I left out." Imp showed gleaming white teeth. "To get into the clothes, you have to spin into them!"*

"*Spin into them?" she echoed, skepticism coloring her voice.*

*He nodded with glee. "You just hold them in your hands and make one spin, and then the magic will exchange the clothes you are wearing with these. It'll be so fast that no one can see it!" He looked smug with himself. "To make the exchange back into your original clothes, just hold your original clothes and spin twice."*

*She crossed her arms. "And that's all I need to know about these?"*

"*Yep. All the cards that concern you are now on the table." He held the clothes out and shook them lightly. "Now, do you want these or not?"*

*Loisette stared at the clothes for a few seconds and then suddenly snatched them. "I do."*

"*Great!" he said with a laugh that was almost a cackle. "I'll be watching out for you. Try to do as many dangerous things as possible! The riskier, the better!"*

*Letting out a gleeful chuckle, he threw some powder on the ground and vanished in a puff of smoke.*

*Startled, Loisette looked at the spot he had vacated. Then she turned her eyes back down to the clothes. Though she didn't quite like the man who had just left her, these clothes had suddenly become very important to her. They were her key to freedom.*

*Hugging them to her chest, she hurried back inside the castle. She was going to put them on and go see Clarkent. And that thought made her very happy.*

*Nobody would be able to say that the princess had been hanging out with a stableboy--because it wouldn't be the princess. To everyone else, it would a boy no one had ever seen or heard from ... a boy no one cared about.*

*But she cared. She cared because that boy she was going to become was her ticket to freedom. Even if it was just for an hour or two a day--and she knew it couldn't be much more than that--it would give her a second life.*

*End Flashback*

Loisette had almost fallen to pieces when Clarkent had asked her boy self for a name. But then--like a ray of light illuminating the proper path to take--the story of Gawain had come back to her, and she had latched on to it. She felt it had served her well. It made her feel more adventurous, more daring, more ... willing to take risks. Suddenly, she could do more than just ride horses with the stableboy. A whole new world had opened to her. There was nothing she couldn't do.

She was smiling and recalling the adventure she and Clarkent had played out in the field earlier when there was a knock on the door. She hurried over to the door and opened it, only for her spirits to abruptly plummet as she realized something she had forgotten.

Aliss was standing there, and with her was the Noblewoman that was going to be Loisette's new lady-in-waiting.

The Noblewoman was wearing a dress that showed a lot more of her chest than was strictly proper, and her confidence level was high if the way she held her head up high despite the newness of her surroundings was any indication. She looked to be perhaps a few years older than Loisette.

"Princess," Aliss began slowly after curtseying, "this is Lady Catherine. She will be your new lady-in-waiting."

The princess stared at the other girl, her heart suddenly heavy.

"Your Highness," Catherine greeted coolly with a small curtsey.

"Lady Catherine," Loisette returned, her voice just as flat. She could already tell that she wasn't going to get along very well with Catherine. And judging by the haughty expression on her new lady-in-waiting's face, Catherine's thoughts were in sync with her own.

What a rotten ending to what had been a great day.

***

Chapter 8: Girls will be Girls

Loisette was sitting on her bed and glaring at Catherine.

Catherine was also sitting on the bed and glaring back.

Loisette hadn't thrown any temper tantrums since Catherine's arrival--mindful of how much trouble she was in with her father and not wanting to be locked in her room for all eternity—but she didn't have to be nice to this new lady-in-waiting. Especially not when Catherine showed absolutely no desire to be nice to her.

Finally sick of their contest to see who could stare the most venomously, Loisette exhaled and stated, "I want to go horseback riding."

Catherine snorted and looked idly down at her fingernails. "You probably don't even know the difference between a stallion and a bull, *Your Highness*."

Loisette narrowed her eyes. "You probably don't know the difference between a curry comb and a hairbrush," she shot back, pleased to see her lady-in-waiting's brow crinkle ever-so-slightly.

Catherine stood up abruptly and smoothed down the wrinkles in her skirt. "At least this will give me a chance to wear my new riding outfit."

"Your new riding outfit?" Loisette echoed as she stared upward at the older girl. On Clarkent's prompting, Loisette had started wearing shorter dresses and boots when going out to ride--but she hadn't realized there were outfits made *specifically* for riding.

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Princess, if I'm going to be your lady-in-waiting, we have got to start working on your clothes.Fashion has to be your number one priority if you want to attract

boys."

"Boys?" asked Loisette in confusion.

***

Loisette walked into the Riding Stable with Catherine, dodging Geralph as he shuffled past. Clarkent turned and saw her, and the smile he flashed her made her heart jump a little. He seemed glad to see her, and that made her feel really good. After a quick bow, he began to move forward, but then his eyes went to Catherine, and he faltered.

"This is my new lady-in-waiting, Lady Catherine," Loisette said with a gesture. "Lady Catherine, this is Clarkent."

Catherine glanced at Loisette with a sour expression. "So, this isn't the first time you've been here, I take it?"

"It's not," Loisette confirmed, looking and feeling surly. Her new lady-in-waiting was ruining what should have been an enjoyable time. "I've become quite good at riding horses."

"Then you won't mind a race?" Catherine asked, her eyes flashing in challenge.

"I would welcome a race," Loisette retorted as she gritted her teeth. "But you had better not cry when you lose."

"Ladies!" Clarkent spoke up. When the two girls swiveled to look at him, he flushed and told Loisette, "I--I don't think a race is a good idea, Your Highness."

***

The glares the two females pinned him with made Clarkent swallow audibly. But he was remembering when he and the princess had raced ... and how she had fallen. He didn't want that to happen again. It had terrified him. He didn't want her to get hurt. After all, she was supposed to rule the kingdom someday.

Perhaps the princess understood the direction of his thoughts, as she hissed in a low voice, "I have improved a lot since I first started riding, and I want to show *Catherine* that I am the better horsewoman."

Clarkent shook his head adamantly. "These horses aren't meant--"

"Peasant, I command you to let us race!" the princess said sharply.

A pang in his chest, Clarkent turned away, feeling hurt. It had become so easy to forget his place in life around Princess Loisette, but now she had reminded him of it once more. He had to tell himself once again: a princess couldn't be friends with a stableboy.

***

Loisette felt every bit the snobbish jerk when she saw the pained expression on Clarkent's face after she called him a "peasant." She had only been thinking about asserting her dominance around Catherine and proving to the other girl that she had no interest in Clarkent as a friend. But now that she had hurt the stableboy, pretending aloofness in front of Catherine suddenly didn't matter. Loisette didn't care what the other girl thought.

She stepped up beside him and gently touched his arm, causing him to jump. He turned to look at her, and she stared at him with an apologetic look in her eyes. Softly, she told him, "I'm sorry, Clark." And she really was. She hadn't meant to hurt him.

***

Clarkent turned away from the princess, the use of her nickname for him a stab to the heart. They couldn't be friends. She needed to stop making him *care* about her so much.

She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around to face her. "Please forgive me, Clark. I just want to race with Catherine. I promise I'll be careful and hold on tightly."

He stared into her brown eyes, trying to dredge up the resolve to deny the princess's request. But she seemed so hopeful--and so sincerely sorry--that he at last bowed his head and said, "All right, Princess."

She smiled and turned to Lady Catherine, who was obviously trying to pretend disinterest in the conversation that had been taking place. "We can race," Princess Loisette proclaimed happily.

Clarkent's thoughts were suddenly racing frantically in the effort to come up with a plan to alleviate some of the danger from the upcoming ride. But he was only able to come up with one idea. Still, anything was better than nothing.

"Lady Catherine," he said, catching the girl's attention, "I think you should take Agides."

"Agides?" the lady-in-waiting echoed.

He moved to stand by the horse's stall. "This is Agides," he explained, reaching a hand out to touch the white star on the horse's forehead. The brown and white horse was a gentle rouncey who had never showed an especial love of speed. If he could get Lady Catherine to ride Agides, then it was possible the princess would win the race more easily--thereby keeping her from pushing High Flyer to go so fast. And if the two horses weren't going too fast ... then maybe neither girl would get hurt.

But he still couldn't help but be worried. Lady Catherine was a bit of a wild card. He had no idea how good she was with horses, but he hoped her riding outfit was a true indicator that she had at least ridden horses often enough to make paying for such a dress worthwhile.

The object of his thoughts came over and looked at Agides, standing closer to Clarkent than he was comfortable with.

"He seems like a nice horse," Catherine commented as she looked over Agides. She turned to Clarkent and gave him a strange-looking smile. A few seconds later, she placed a finger on his chest and then brought it to rest on his chin. "I'll take him."

Clarkent stared at her, unable to shake the sense that she was a wolf stalking a helpless lamb. "All--all right," he stammered.

"Let's go," the princess said loudly from behind them, and Clarkent and Lady Catherine both turned to look at her.

Clarkent slipped away from the lady-in-waiting, glad for the diversion, as he'd been feeling as if he were about to be eaten alive by her. "I'll prepare the horses for you," he said. As he turned his back to them, he wiped a bit of sweat off his brow.

***

Clarkent refused to be involved in any part of their race. While Esroh Repus had been trained well and would obediently respond to commands, Clarkent didn't want to encourage any more competition among the horses ... or the girls, for that matter.

He watched as High Flyer and Agides lunged forward, and he waited a few seconds before he encouraged Esroh Repus to start walking. If something happened, he wanted to be close by, so that meant he had to follow them.

Despite Agides's being a lesser quality horse than High Flyer, Lady Catherine handled him well, and she and the princess were almost neck-and-neck until the very end, when High Flyer practically leapt forward at the princess's prompting and raced past the designated "finish" area.

As the two girls slowed their mounts to a stop, Clarkent urged his into a gallop. Esroh Repus ran ahead happily, and Clarkent finally made him decrease his speed as they approached Princess Loisette and Lady Catherine.

Both girls were laughing and congratulating themselves on a job well done, having somehow apparently earned a grudging respect for each other out there amidst the wind and horseflesh and flying dirt. Clarkent was just glad they were laughing rather than crying. If one of them had gotten hurt, he would have refused to help riders out ever again, no matter what Dwayne told him.

As much as he liked seeing the princess--yes, he had to admit that much to himself--he couldn't help but think maybe it would be better if she didn't keep putting herself into harm's way. Princesses were supposed to be kept away from danger ... or, at the very least, saved from it. They weren't supposed to go charging into it!

"I thought for certain you were going to win!" exclaimed the princess, throwing her hands in the air for emphasis.

Lady Catherine twirled her whip with a smile. "And I would have, too, if stableboy here had given me a better horse."

Clarkent had the grace to look abashed. "Agides is a good horse," he said weakly. He hadn't realized Catherine would know the difference between a mediocre horse and a good one.

"Yeah, good for old men!" Lady Catherine proclaimed with a laugh. "But I don't mind--there's something I like about this fellow here." She patted the horse's neck.

Clarkent shook his head. There had seemed to be a little tension between the two girls when they had first entered the stable, but now they acted like old friends. He wasn't sure whether to be happy about that or sad. He wanted the princess to have friends, of course, but ... if she made a new friend, then it was possible he would hardly see her anymore. And that thought made him suddenly depressed.

But when the princess looked over at him and smiled, he couldn't help but smile back. If the princess stopped coming, well, Clarkent could always start spending a little more time with Billy. Once Clarkent had turned thirteen and risen up in the stable hierarchy, the other stableboy had seemed to better appreciate him ...

But Billy was no Princess Loisette.

***

The next day, Loisette--dressed as Gawain after having sneaked away from Catherine--managed to drag Clarkent away from the stable and out into the open field again, where she proceeded to force him to reenact the scene from the previous day.

Loisette had brought an old saddle blanket from the stable, and she was cradling it in her arms like a protective mother. "I have to keep you safe," she whispered to the bundle, kissing it. "No matter what happens, I'll figure out a way to protect you." She rocked the blanket back and forth, waiting for Clarkent to jump in and say something. When he didn't, she coughed slightly.

Clarkent, apparently recognizing a cue when he saw one, leapt forward with his stick sword, the noise drawing her eyes to him. "The king wants to see you," he said, trying to inject some authority into his voice, " ... *and* your baby."

"Never!" Loisette proclaimed, spitting at his feet. He took a step back in surprise and made a disgusted face that didn't seem to be an act. "I won't let you have my child!" she told him with extreme vehemence. And then, clutching the blanket to her chest, she darted past him.

"Stop!" Clarkent yelled after her. He came charging forward, stick at the ready.

They ran through the field, the grass swishing against their pants. She swerved around a rock, leapt off a small hill, and tried her best to lose her pursuer. But she could hear him panting behind her, hot on her trail.

Finally, satisfied with the show they were putting on, Loisette faked a fall, landing forward with the "baby" held out.

Clarkent dodged her sprawled legs and went straight for the blanket, snatching it from her and holding it up in the air. "I have your child!" he cried out triumphantly. Then he lowered the blanket and brought his stick sword up, pointing it at the invisible baby's throat.

"No!" shouted Loisette, crawling toward him, reaching up once she was at his feet, trying desperately on bended knees to get her child back from him.

"I--" he said savagely, his stick still hovering over the blanket, "I ... I can't do this." The hand with the stick dropped to his side.

***

Clarkent had finally felt himself getting into his Gawain-imposed role when they dashed across the field. The thud of his feet against the ground as they moved had felt very *real*. And when he had laid hands on the fake child, it had been like he had just caught a prize.

But when he began to point his fake weapon at the invisible child, he found he couldn't go through with it. What kind of monster would kill a helpless baby? How could even a Barbarian King do that, much less one of his soldiers?

He didn't want the story to end like that. He didn't want the queen's child to disappear into oblivion.

Clarkent turned to see Gawain getting to his feet. "What are you doing?" Gawain asked grumpily. "We were going along just fine--"

"I couldn't do it."

"Couldn't do what?" Gawain asked in confusion.

Clarkent swallowed. "I couldn't kill the baby."

Gawain stared at him for a few seconds and then exclaimed in exasperation, "But there *is* no baby!"

"But there *was*," Clarkent pointed out sadly yet firmly.

Gawain rolled his eyes. "Oh, whatever! We'll do a different story next time." He crossed his arms and began muttering something about sensitive stableboys.

Clarkent, trying to ignore his friend's words, stared down at the blanket in his arms. He couldn't hurt another human being, even in his imagination. Not without good cause.

And there could never be a good cause for killing a baby.

***

Peri waited until the two boys were done playing to confront Gawain alone. The boy's steps faltered upon seeing him, and he crossed his arms and put on his most imposing expression. "So ... Gawain, isn't it?" Peri ventured. "I don't recall seeing you around the castle."

The boy squirmed under his gaze and averted his eyes. "I don't actually work at the castle," he admitted, looking abashed and a little fearful. "I just--I just want a friend ... "

Peri softened. The boy seemed sincere. It hadn't been nice of Peri to try to scare him. "I'm sorry if I frightened you. My name is Peri."

"It's okay, Peri," Gawain said, finally lifting his head. He still looked a little afraid.

"Perhaps I will see you around?" Peri said with intentional warmth.

The boy nodded. "Probably."

Peri smiled at him and then began to walk away. Clarkent could use a good friend. Peri was just jumping at shadows. The boy was probably just a runaway.

***

Weeks later, Catherine was brushing the princess's hair. Loisette protested against the act every time, but Catherine persisted in declaring the princess's hair looked like a bird's nest when Loisette did it herself--and so the demanding offer of assistance was always grudgingly accepted.

Loisette had come to secretly enjoy having her hair brushed by Catherine. The older girl did it gently and (usually) quietly, so it gave Loisette some time to think.

She found her thoughts drifting to the Riding Stable. On occasion, she went to the stable with Catherine to ride horses. There was something about the way Clarkent's face lit up when he saw her which ... well, which made her want to cause it to happen again. But whenever she was with Catherine, she couldn't spend much time talking to Clarkent, so it took a little joy out of the experience. Not to mention that he had appeared to clam up even more since Catherine's first appearance at the Riding Stable.

As Gawain, Loisette visited him more frequently, though it meant she constantly had to give Catherine the slip (which was sometimes easier to do than others). When Loisette went as the princess, she had to be very careful to limit her time with Clarkent so as not to draw attention to herself--especially since Aliss seemed to be keeping a close eye on her. But as Gawain, Loisette experienced more freedom. She even took cakes from the kitchen to give to Clarkent, figuring it would be okay for her to do so since Gawain *was* supposed to be working for the cook. And Clarkent had enjoyed those cakes so much that she never regretted doing it.

It was strange to see how the stableboy treated her different personas. He was quieter and more awkward around her when she was around him in a dress than when she was wearing pants. Whenever she was in her magic clothing, he would more frequently joke with her or disagree with her or tell her his honest opinion, and it was refreshing. She thought they had been moving toward such a relationship with her before she got the magic clothes, but then her father had delivered his command for her not to spend any more time alone with the stableboy. When she'd had to decrease the frequency of her visits as princess, the intimacy they had been building up had also decreased.

Loisette sighed to herself. It was so complicated being royalty.

As Catherine finished her task of brushing--muttering to herself about not being able to understand how a *burr* had ended up in the princess's hair--Aliss came into Loisette's chambers.

Loisette smiled upon seeing her, and she nearly stood up, but Catherine pushed her back down with a sharp order to be still.

"I see you two girls are getting along, Princess," Aliss commented warmly.

"That's just what we *want* you to think," Catherine jested. She put down the hairbrush and smiled at Aliss.

"Yes," Loisette agreed solemnly. "Secretly, we despise each other."

The nanny shook her head. "I just don't understand children these days."

"You mean my mother was nothing like me?" Loisette asked innocently.

Aliss laughed. "I guess I didn't understand children during your mother's day either, Princess. *She* was certainly always getting into trouble. One time, she put a mouse down the back of a Duchess's dress. I started to think that woman would never stop screaming." She shook her head, chuckling.

"My mother did that?" Loisette asked, her mouth gaping open.

Aliss nodded. "Yes. She did. Of course, her adventures weren't always that amusing afterward. She almost died once when she ventured into the woods alone."

"Really?" Loisette prodded in interest.

"Yes. If it weren't for your father, she *would* have died. He was worried that she was out so late, and he went searching for her ... When he at last found her, she was unconscious. She'd fallen into a large hole a hunter had dug. She broke both arms and could easily have broken her neck." Aliss's mood had descended into sadness. "Your father became very protective after that." She abruptly shook herself out of her sorrow. "But enough about the past. I just wanted to check on you two. I have some work to do, so I'll leave you both alone. But feel free to come find me if you need me."

As Aliss left them, Loisette gazed after her. Despite the troublesome story Aliss had just told her, Loisette found herself suddenly craving adventure. If her mother had had adventures, then Loisette wanted to have adventures, too.

She waited a minute before standing up and saying innocently, "I'll be right back." Then she walked toward the door.

Catherine had become distracted by a cracked fingernail, and she muttered, "All right, Your Highness."

Loisette ducked out into the hall, where she looked both ways to ensure there was no one in sight. Then she sneaked to her secret alcove. In the wall of the alcove, there were some loose bricks. Behind those bricks was where Loisette hid her Gawain outfit in an old blanket. She only had to spin quickly into the clothes, and then she was scurrying down the hall.

In one of the corridors, she passed Herbie, who was the castle librarian and her occasional tutor, but he didn't look up from the book he was engrossed in, and she continued on eagerly.

***

"I'm sorry," the Stable Master apologized. "Clarkent is busy with the farrier."

The Stable Master--Dwayne, if Loisette remembered correctly—had never really questioned the presence of Gawain in the stable, though Loisette wasn't quite sure why. She figured it was probably because he saw her Gawain persona helping out with some of the stable work. She wasn't very good at it--she didn't exactly have bulging muscles, and she was highly averse to getting any manure on her at all--but she often *did* help make a dent in the work there was to be done. Sometimes, she thought she could do more in one hour than that incompetent Geralph could do in three.

"That's all right," she said with a sigh. "Thank you." She turned and left the stable, feeling a bit put out. Well, now what was she going to do?

***

"I'm back," Loisette said in a grumpy voice as she entered her bedroom after having changed out of her Gawain clothes.

"Ring the bells," Catherine said dryly. She was filing her fingernails.

Loisette sat on her bed and fell backward, spreading her arms out like birds' wings. "I'm bored."

Catherine snorted. "You certainly are high maintenance, aren't you?"

Loisette sat up a little to look at her lady-in-waiting's face, but there was an amused smirk on it.

"This coming from someone who has more outfits than my father has soldiers," Loisette shot back.

"A girl has to look her best!"

Loisette fell back onto her bed once more. Then she sighed loudly.

"Oh, all right!" Catherine exclaimed. "If you're bored, then let's do something. What do you want to do? Horseback riding? Archery? Go to court and look at all the handsome knights?"

"Archery?" queried Loisette with a frown.

"I should've known you wouldn't choose to look at the knights," Catherine muttered (just loud enough that Loisette could hear it). Louder, she said, "Yes, archery. You know—bows and arrows?"

"I've never used a bow and arrow before," Loisette admitted.

Catherine gaped at her. "Archery is a staple for every young Noblewoman--and princess. Come on--get up. Let's find Aliss. Maybe she'll know someone who can give you some lessons." And then she was pulling at Loisette's arm and practically yanking her off the bed.

"All right, all right," Loisette muttered.

***

After they found Aliss, she led them to an area outside the castle with several targets set up. A young man with brown hair and a stubble-covered face was standing with a bow in his hand. He swiftly nocked an arrow, drew back, and let it fly. The head of the arrow buried itself in the exact middle of the target. Reaching back into his quiver, the man pulled out another arrow, and seconds later an arrow was whizzing through the air again. It split the first arrow, going right down the middle of it. He turned to them with a smile; it was obvious he had known someone was watching.

Upon seeing the coronet on Loisette's head, he bowed. "Your Highness. It is a pleasure to finally meet you." He had a strange accent--his voice was musical, and he spoke with soft vowels but hard consonants. As he straightened from his graceful bow, he smiled at Aliss.

"Hello, Patrik," Aliss said.

"Hello," he returned warmly.

"It seems our princess wishes to learn the art of archery," Aliss told him. "I was wondering if perhaps you could instruct her?"

Patrik bowed again. "I would be honored to teach such a beautiful young woman my lowly craft."

"Well, I see you two ladies are in good hands," Aliss said with a nod, failing to hide her smile. "I'll be going now."

Loisette watched her leave and then turned back to Patrik, only to find him talking to her lady-in-waiting.

"Now," said the archer, looking at Catherine, "who might this lovely young lady be?"

Catherine offered her hand for him to kiss and purred, "Catherine."

He obliged her, gently placing a kiss on the back of her hand. "Well, Lady Catherine, have you ever shot a bow and arrow before?"

"I have ... but I am afraid I am a little out of practice," she said, a slight pout to her lip.

"Well," Patrik said slyly, "then I suppose I must help you get back in shape."

As Loisette watched them flirt back and forth, she reflected that she would rather die a virgin queen than marry if *this* was what courtship entailed. The two were quite sickening, and she was beginning to regret having agreed to come in the first place.

But she might as well do it and get it over with. Maybe she would even learn something.

***

As it turned out, Loisette learned a lot at her archery lesson. Despite the doe eyes Catherine made at him, Patrik proved himself to be a skilled archer. By the end of the lesson, Loisette had even hit the target with an arrow. The feeling of triumph that came over her when that happened was enough to make her resolve to come back for more lessons. She might talk to Aliss to see if she could find a different teacher, but she was learning a new skill, and it made her feel good. And this was a skill that would be great for adventures.

"He was kind of cute," Catherine commented as they walked away. "He seemed to like you. Maybe you'll have a few beaux after all when you're finally of age to marry."

Loisette rolled her eyes. "I'm a princess," she said firmly and loudly, "and I'm meant to marry a prince--or, at the very least, a Noble. I am *not* marrying some poor archer, and I don't know why you were so tender with him yourself."

"Oh, you're no fun," Catherine pouted. "A little flirting never hurt anyone."

"Well, it never *helped *them either," Loisette returned, staring down at her feet in annoyance.

***

Clarkent had been sorry to miss Gawain, but Penelope Grace had needed shoeing, and he knew that the horse would be far too much for the farrier to handle alone. After the cranky beast had been properly shoed, he finally went out to look for Gawain. He wanted to apologize for being unavailable and see if perhaps Gawain wished to chase fireflies. He was hopeful that he would be able to find his friend.

He saw Princess Loisette and Lady Catherine walking away from the archery area, deep in conversation, and he began moving toward them without really thinking about it. But then something Loisette said made him stop in his tracks:

"I'm a princess, and I'm meant to marry a prince--or, at the very least, a Noble. I am *not* marrying some poor archer, and I don't know why you were so tender with him yourself."

Upon hearing that, Clarkent colored. Then he immediately admonished himself. Why would he care that the princess wanted to marry a prince? Of course she did! That's what princesses were supposed to do. It was no concern of his!

Still, he suddenly changed his path, no longer desiring to talk to the two girls. He might as well just go back to the stable. Gawain was obviously nowhere to be found.

He told himself that the reason for his sudden rotten mood was the fact that he couldn't find his friend. But no logic could dispel the cloud that had settled down on him. Not even the thought of Visiting Day's being next week was enough to cheer him up.

***

Chapter 9: Visiting Day

Her eyes and hands were lifted up in laughter, frozen in perpetual happiness. Her lips were as red as they had been when she was alive, and her blonde hair looked soft to the touch. Her cheeks were pink with the constant exertion of loving life.

Her red dress cascaded down her body, waves of silk shimmering in the light of the sunbeam falling upon her face. Behind her stood a great elder tree. On its branches, a small bird had been placed at the whim of the painter, perhaps due to a knowledge of the woman's great love of animals.

He walked up and gently touched the picture, his hands gliding across the painted cheek of his wife. She had been such a lovely woman, so spirited ... so caring. She had been a great wife—and a wonderful friend.

He missed her so much.

Sometimes, he would jolt awake at night and roll over to reach out for her. But of course, she wasn't there. She hadn't been there for a long time.

A part of him had died with her, but just as bad was what had been born in its place. His self-loathing and guilt had risen up inside him like ravenous beasts and were slowly eating him alive.

On the night his second daughter had been born and had died with his wife, Samuel had been in bed with another woman.

It had been the first and last time that had happened, and he couldn't explain his slip into depravity back then any more than he could now. The ache of shame beat perpetually in his breast. With every thump of his heart, a piece of it fell off and shattered into jagged slivers that pierced his soul and stayed there, unextractable, eternal, painful.

His only consolation was that she had died before she found out. Had she known, he felt the end result would have still been the same. She had lived in a world of such innocence that to have found out something so wretched would have destroyed her.

He closed his eyes, bleeding from a hundred thousand mental wounds, wrapped up in a million regrets. Today was Visiting Day.

Visiting Day was the one day a year when Assigned servants had the entire day off work to visit their families. The day was important to parents, who were finally able to give their children gifts and see how they were doing away from home.

His wife had hated the Assigning.

She had said that it was a form of slavery, and he had gradually come to understand her perspective and agree with it. There was something inherently wrong about taking children away from their homes merely to force them into servitude.

She had argued so vehemently for him to abolish the Assigning, but her pleas had not swayed him. The Nobles--particularly ones belonging to the camp that Alexander and Tempos's father had led--were vocal in their support of it, and he dared not go against them.

Ellena had called him a dozen names--coward, slaver, child-stealer ... But he had stood firm. He would not destroy the hierarchy their kingdom was founded on. He feared the consequences too much.

But to placate his wife and his own conscience, he had taken a few measures in regard to servants at the castle. He had given a few people the duty of making children's adjustments to their new lives more bearable, and he had tried to encourage those overseeing the Assigned to be kind taskmasters, allowing the children some free time where they could simply be children. He had even gone to the kitchen and informed the cook to improve the food being served to castle servants.

His wife had suggested they increase the number of festivals celebrated by the people. On festival days, servants got off half a day and were allowed to feast at the crown's expense, so she felt it would bring a little more joy into the children's lives. He had been resistant to the idea at first, but he had finally given in, believing it had merit. Now, there were festival days such as May Day and Children's Day. They also celebrated Twelfth Night. Now, he associated every holiday with his wife--and with pain.

After she had died, he had stopped checking into the situations of servants. The structures were in place, but whether they were being held up or crumbling, he didn't know. He wanted to bring himself to care, as he knew he should, but he could not. He was only a shell of a man, holding on to life only until his daughter was old enough to take the throne. He wanted to protect Loisette, to keep her safe. But he wasn't safe himself. He was poison. And he didn't want to subject her to that.

He wished Ellena could have raised Loisette instead of him. He didn't know how to be a father. All he knew ... was how to be a failure.

***

Loisette went rushing into the stable--Catherine following behind her at a more reasonable pace--only to falter at the sight of the Stable Master, Dwayne, mucking out stalls. There were absolutely no stableboys in sight.

"Your Highness," he greeted with a bow, pausing from his physical labor.

"Where--where is everyone?" she asked in confusion. Where was Clarkent?

He smiled at her obliviousness. "It's Visiting Day, Your Highness."

"Oh," Loisette said, suddenly very disappointed. She sighed to herself in frustration. She hated Visiting Day. Everything always took so much longer to get done, and her father would absolutely refuse to leave his room the entire day--not that she saw him much anyway.

With a frown, she asked the Stable Master, "Why are you here?"

"I'm a Requested servant, Your Highness," he told her patiently. "Requested servants have three Leave Days a year, but they never fall on Visiting Day. It was designed so someone is always working, but I'm sure you knew that."

Loisette felt her face grow warm. How could she have forgotten all that? When Assigned servants came of age at seventeen, they typically vacated their positions to go be with their families, but they could be Requested to stay, as Dwayne had. Requested servants were even given privileges that Assigned servants didn't. They could marry, and they would also be paid for their work. The position was one of great honor, so many Requested servants never left. But they always had a choice in the matter--they could leave whenever they wanted, provided they gave a few days' notice. She should have stopped to think about the fact that Dwayne had to be a Requested servant by sheer virtue of his age.

"I'm sorry--I wasn't thinking," Loisette said in a strained voice. "Of course it's Visiting Day."

"Everyone wants to see their families sometime," the Stable Master pointed out gently. "You can't begrudge them that."

"You're right," Loisette agreed, feeling bad for her insensitivity. "I can't."

Catherine gave Loisette a light touch on the arm, and the princess turned to her.

"Come on, Your Highness," Catherine said with strange gentleness. "We'll come back another time to ride."

Loisette nodded. "All right."

***

Clarkent had felt so excited when he first saw his parents. He had rushed to embrace them, and they had hugged him back tightly. Words hadn't been needed to express their joy.

On pulling away from them, however, his initial happiness had turned to worry. They appeared so much ... older than his memories of them. And they seemed tired.

At first, he thought the trip had simply taken a lot out of them. It was a long way to travel, and the old cart they had ridden on was hardly the most comfortable of transports. But as the day had progressed, his concerned had lingered ... deepened, even. Were they working too hard? They were older than most parents of children his age. If only he could be released from his current duties and be allowed to leave with them! His strong and fit young body would make such a big difference to his parents. It was less than five years until he could return home, but he was beginning to wonder--would they be able to survive long enough for him to finally go back to them?

His mother had been kind as ever, giving him some clothes she had sewn for him. "These are to play in," she had said, her tone saying clear as words, "You had *better* be having some playtime." He had put the clothes away, as he had most of the desserts his mother had baked for him. The desserts wouldn't last him long, but when his mother brought him baked goods, he preferred not to eat them all in one day. Visiting Day lasted for only a few hours--he wanted the last reminders of their visit to last so much longer.

After the preliminary greetings were over, he had suggested—as he munched on one of the cakes he had received--they go to the stable to tour it, but his father had said, "I'd rather walk in the fields first, son," and he had given Clarkent's mother a look.

Clarkent wasn't sure why they wanted to get away from everyone else, and it had done nothing to alleviate his fears. Were they trying to summon up the courage to tell him that one of them was dying?

Though his mother had exclaimed over how much he had grown since they had last seen him--and his father had commented on how much stronger he looked--there was a strange nervousness in both of them which went beyond excitement at seeing him. What did they want to tell him?

As they walked slowly through the field, Clarkent nibbled at one of his cakes. His mother was telling stories about what was going on with people back home.

"Opaline's daughter is shooting up so fast that you'd think her father was a giant," his mother was saying. "I wish we could have brought them with us, but the journey's a bit tiring." Her face turned sad. "And I don't think Opaline wants to start considering the fact that soon her daughter will have to leave her."

Clarkent pulled her into a sudden hug, holding the remains of his cake out of the way so it wouldn't get smashed. "Mom," he told her, "don't worry. As Dad always says, 'Worrying doesn't help the cows get home.'" But in reality, he couldn't take his own advice. He was very worried about his parents--what was wrong? And why weren't they telling him what it was?

His father chuckled. "We only see you once a year, and you can remember me saying *that*?"

Clarkent lifted an eyebrow. "You say it a *lot*."

His dad threw an arm around his shoulders. "Can I help it if I'm full of wisdom?"

Clarkent's mother laughed. "If by 'wisdom,' you mean 'cake,' then yes!"

Winking, his father said, "I did have to try a few of her cakes. I had to make sure they weren't poisoned."

"Uh huh," Clarkent said, rolling his eyes as he took another bite. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you were trying to eat all of my present."

His dad chuckled. "You might be right."

They continued walking for a while, and Clarkent finished his cake. The sweets Gawain had been bringing him were good, but they weren't quite *this* good. Still, it was hard to really enjoy it, his thoughts being as dismal as they were.

"How are you doing, Clarkent?" his mother asked finally, her tone suddenly serious.

He paused and toed the grass with one of his shoes, wondering if the conversation was about to turn toward the serious. "I'm doing all right."

"Are you making friends?"

He nodded. "I am. And you know, being a stableboy isn't too bad," he said with a halfhearted smile. "I get a little bit of time off, especially now that I'm older."

"We worry about you, son," his dad said quietly. "We wish we could be here for you all the time."

"Well, *don't* worry. I'm doing fine. Before you know it, I'll be seventeen and leaving this place, and you won't be able to get rid of me!" He tried to grin at them, but he noticed them exchanging a solemn look, and he had to drop the happy facade. His brow wrinkled, he asked, "Mom? Dad? What is it?"

His mother sighed. "We wanted to wait a little longer before having this conversation, but I guess now is as good a time as any."

He stared at her unblinkingly. "What conversation is that?"

"Clarkent," his father said with a sigh, "there's no easy way to say this, so I'll just spit it out: we're not your real parents."

"What?" Clarkent whispered, his whole world suddenly turned upside down. Whatever he had expected them to say ... it wasn't this.

His mother threw an annoyed look at his father. "We may not be your real parents, Clarkent, but we love you just as much as if you really had been our own."

"But you can't tell anyone about this," his father noted. "That's very important. As far as the world knows, we're your real parents rather than your foster parents."

Clarkent shook his head, wanting to deny this sudden and unwelcome information. He knew they wouldn't lie to him, but he still couldn't help but feel a little doubtful about the whole thing. "Aren't you listed as my parents in the Birth Registry?" he asked them. "How did the king's men know to come get me for the Assigning?"

His foster parents--foster parents? Clarkent couldn't believe it!--exchanged a look. "We had help forging your name in the Registry," his mother admitted. "We knew you had to leave us when you were seven. If not, too many questions would have been asked about why we had a child past Assigning age. We couldn't hide you away forever."

He turned away from them, his mind awhirl. If they weren't his real parents, then who was?

"Clarkent, please don't be upset with us," his mother pleaded.

He glanced over his shoulder at her and said softly, "I'm not." Secretly, he was shocked and puzzled--but he had to admit to himself that he was also a little hurt. Why hadn't they told him before now?

Clarkent leaned down and plucked a piece of grass to roll between his fingers. "How did you find me?" As he straightened, he saw the uncomfortable look they were sharing.

"You were given to us," his father said at last.

"By who?"

"Please don't ask us anything else, Clarkent," his mother asked in a quiet voice.

"All right," he mumbled, dropping the piece of grass to the ground. He was burning with questions, but it was obvious they weren't going to answer them. "Then let's just go to the stable."

Every year, he would show them around the stable. His job had become so much a part of them that they were always interested in seeing where he worked, and usually he was glad to talk about his life working as a royal servant.

But this time, he didn't feel like going anywhere with them right then. He wanted to withdraw to think.

"Is that cranky horse still around?" his father asked lightly.

"Yes," he answered. But he didn't offer forth any more information.

***

After walking around the Riding Stable and seeing Clarkent's constant equine companions, they went to the town market. It was another tradition of theirs.

They wove through the busy stalls, looking at shiny fruit and bright baubles and lavish cloths and gleaming jewelry. Everything screamed, "Buy me! Pick me!"

"Jon," his mother called out, waving over her husband, "look at this necklace."

She pointed down at the necklace. It had a pendant on which gold strips were woven together, holding in place several expensive gems. Clarkent's father made an admiring comment, and his mother reached out to touch it.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" the stall owner said with a smile. "It's one of a kind."

A shutter fell down over Clarkent's face. It was another tradition of theirs that they look at items in the market ... but not buy them.

For the first time, Clarkent truly felt their extreme poverty. And it hit him like a punch to the gut.

His mother didn't own any jewelry--that was precious money to be spent elsewhere. There were clothes to buy and meals to make and equipment to fix. She didn't even own a wedding ring. Only the wealthy could afford those.

He felt a sudden flare of anger toward the rich. They sat in their castles and on their estates, sipping from expensive bottles of wine and throwing unwanted table scraps to the pampered dogs at their feet. They could eat whatever and whenever they wanted. They could send someone out to buy necklaces and rings and silk clothes, never even giving a second thought to the children starving in the streets. Sure, maybe boys didn't starve after the age of six and girls after the age of eight because of the enslavement enforced upon them--but if at seventeen they weren't Requested to stay with their masters, then what exactly lay ahead for them in their adulthoods? Only the harsh world.

Perhaps, if they were lucky, they would find solace in the arms of a spouse. But having children with that spouse meant coming up with enough food to survive until those children were sent away. It was no way to live. The horses in the king's two stables were treated better than that. Something needed to be done. Things needed to be changed somehow.

He was so wrapped up in these thoughts that it was hard for him to enjoy the rest of his time with his parents. All too soon, they had to leave, needing to travel home so they could return to work early the next morning.

His mother gave him a tight hug. "I love you so much, Clarkent," she whispered to him. "Don't forget that."

"I won't, Mom," he told her. "I love you, too." As he looked at her, she seemed so tiny and fragile. He had been having growth spurts recently, and he was already taller than her. She was so small--should he have already realized that she couldn't be his real mother?

He felt another pair of arms wrap around him, and then his father said, "I love you, son."

"And I love you, Dad," he returned. There was a tightness in his chest, and his mouth felt very dry. It would be another year before he saw them.

They finally broke apart, and Clarkent's father reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch.

Clarkent stared at the pouch, knowing the bottom of its belly contained a few dear coins. "Dad--"

"Please take it, son."

Clarkent reached out reluctantly and put his fingers around it. He wanted them to have it--he knew they needed it dearly. But he also knew they wouldn't take it.

Still, as he clutched the pouch to his chest, he couldn't help but say, "Dad, this isn't necessary--"

"We wanted to do it, son," his father said with a smile. "We'll see you next year."

His mother came and gave him one more hug, her eyes glistening with tears. "Be strong, Clarkent. Remember we love you very much."

He nodded and watched as they left. He knew he should probably go to the Riding Stable to see if Dwayne had been able to take care of everything, but his mind was too crowded with thoughts and troubles, so he resolved to take a walk to clear his head.

***

Chapter 10: A Seed is Planted

As an evening breeze blew gently across the field, Clarkent walked for a while, utterly lost in thought. His head was full almost to bursting, and he just wanted to give a primal scream and let everything out.

Finally, he stood in one place beneath a tree and looked up at the moon and the stars with a furrowed brow. A cloud was passing slowly over them, dimming their brightness. But his mind was not on the sky. He simply stared upward at it unseeingly.

He felt so much at that moment, but it was a bundle of feelings that were hard to fully pin down. He felt angry, confused, sad, hurt ... Why were his foster parents doomed to such a miserable life of poverty? Why were some people born with everything—and others with nothing? It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

His mind turned back once again to his recent revelation. They weren't his real parents! How could he have never realized that? And why had they waited so long to tell him?

And what about his real parents? Why had they given him away? Had they simply not wanted him? Had he been born out of wedlock? Was he born out of the shame of others?

He had so many important questions, and his parents hadn't wanted to answer any of them. One look at their faces, and he had known he would be getting nothing more out of them. He was stuck in a quagmire of confusion which no one could help remove him from. And it made him feel so very alone.

He fell to his knees on the ground and sat back on his legs. Tucking his chin into his chest, he fought to withhold a sob. He felt so helpless ... and in a world where he never had much choice, that was devastating.

The whisper of grass on fabric reached his ears, and he looked up in surprise to see a black form coming forward in the darkness. The dark cloud above finished passing over the moon, and he was able to see by the white orb's light that it was Peri moving toward him.

"Hello," Clarkent greeted in a depressed tone, not bothering to stand. He wasn't sure he could conjure up the energy to do so. He felt too drained for that.

"It is a pretty night," the older man commented as he slowed to a stop and leaned his head back to look at the night sky. He held his staff in his right hand, leaning on it slightly, and there was a slight wistfulness in his look.

"Yes," Clarkent agreed distractedly. In truth, he could care less about the sky's beauty or lack thereof at that moment. He was too busy looking inward to be able to start looking outward.

"A lot of secrets are formed during the night," Peri noted in a voice filled with mystery, "and a lot of secrets are revealed. There is something about the night which revels in secrecy."

Clarkent stared down at the grass, plucking out a few blades. "I guess so."

Peri came and sat on the ground across from him, drawing his attention toward him. "What is wrong, young Clarkent?"

Clarkent flushed. He hadn't realized he was so transparent, and it was embarrassing that the older man had to sit on the ground in order to attract Clarkent's notice. His chest tightening, Clarkent muttered, still picking at the grass, "Nothing is wrong."

Peri tilted his head to the side, those wizened eyes of his searching Clarkent's and making him extremely uncomfortable. Finally, the older man said, "You know, son, I once knew the king of Metropolita's sister kingdom."

Clarkent looked up sharply in surprise. Peri had to be talking about the Barbarian Kingdom. "You did?" Clarkent asked hesitantly. He was mystified that Peri had actually *known* someone from that place. In some ways, it seemed like the Barbarian Kingdom was simply a bundle of made-up tales. But in reality, things like what he and Gawain had acted out ... well, they had really happened.

"Well," Peri amended, "I'm talking about the *rightful* king--not that despot who overthrew him and who everyone began calling the 'Barbarian King.'" He shook his head, looking disgusted. "Now, one day, the King--the *rightful* one—was looking a little down, and I asked him what was troubling him. But he just refused to talk about it, so I didn't pry further. The weeks went by, and the King just got surlier and surlier. And then, finally, he blew up and yelled at the woman he loved."

"Why did he do that?" Clarkent asked with a frown. It didn't seem like the smartest thing to do.

Peri smiled. "You see--she didn't know that he loved her. He had been burying all of his feelings deep down inside. And as a result, he almost lost her that day for good. Now, had he been honest and let his feelings out instead of keeping them inside, he wouldn't have jeopardized the very relationship that was causing him so much turmoil." He gave a short bob of his head for emphasis. "It's bad to bottle things up, son. You have to let them out, or they're just as liable to hurt you as help you."

Clarkent swallowed, mulling over the older man's wisdom. Maybe it really was bad to bottle things up--it could be nice to talk about things sometimes ...

He glanced over at Peri, who was staring at him, reading his face like a book. After Clarkent looked away in embarrassment, Peri commented, "You must have seen your parents today."

Clarkent nodded, feeling a little resistant to this line of questioning. He said curtly, "Yes, I did."

"How did that go?"

Clarkent hesitated. He wasn't sure why, but he really liked this mysterious man. He even trusted him wholeheartedly. There was just something about Peri that screamed sincerity to him. And would it hurt to talk to him a little bit ... as long as he didn't give all the details?

Deciding to go for it, Clarkent told him quietly, "I learned something my parents have been keeping from me for a long time. And it ... well, it hurts. And they're not telling me everything." In frustration, he flung the blades of grass into the air and watched as they fell to the ground.

"And why do you think they might have hidden that from you?" Peri asked, his voice gentle.

Clarkent thought about it. Finally, he ventured, "Maybe they were scared of how I would react." And maybe it had been hard figuring out the right time to tell him--after all, after he had been Assigned, he had only seen them once a year ... and that day was so fleeting and so precious that he could understand them not wanting to taint the day.

Peri nodded. "Could be. And maybe they were protecting you as well. And, you know, it could be that--by not telling you everything--they were trying to protect someone else. Or maybe it wasn't their secret to tell."

Clarkent frowned. "What would they be protecting us from?" Were they scared the person who had forged his name in the Birth Registry would find out?

"Does it really matter?" Peri asked him, pulling his staff across his lap. "Isn't the important thing that they care enough to want to protect you?"

Clarkent stared down at his hands, considering what Peri had said. The fact that they had waited so long let him know that they believed telling him was important. And the fact that they had told him at all showed they had deemed him worthy of being entrusted with the secret. They had said he couldn't tell anyone--so obviously it wouldn't have been good for them to tell him when he was just a little kid. And how would he have ever mustered up the courage to tell someone something this big, only to also have to say that it had to be kept a secret from everybody else? Telling secrets wasn't as easy as it seemed.

"You're right," he admitted. "What matters is that they care."

It didn't matter who his real parents were--not in the way that counted. He was truly lucky to have had the two parents he was given to. He could have ended up in the hands of a different set of foster parents--and if he had, he probably wouldn't be the person he was today. No matter what happened to him while he was working in the Riding Stable, he could always take comfort in the fact that there were two people out there who loved him unconditionally.

Clarkent gave a crooked smile. "Even though they're poor, my parents are happy with each other ... and with me." But then he sighed, his heart heavy once again. "The only change they would want in their lives would be to have me with them all the time--to be able to see me more than once a year ... " It was a change he wanted, too. He wanted to be able to help them out—he wanted to take some of the burden from them. It would be so easy to walk away from work at the castle and never return. But they wouldn't want that. They wanted him to see this through.

Peri gave him a sad smile. "Such is the wish of many parents in this day and time. But unfortunately, change is slow." He rose to his feet, using his staff to help him up. "Still--never lose hope, Clarkent. What the people need right now is a beacon which will shine hope upon them and spread it throughout the kingdom. Maybe then, change will finally happen."

Clarkent stood up himself, thinking about what the older man had said. There must have been countless other people who felt the way he did. Surely the Nobles were the only ones who supported the Assigning--what parent would wish for their children to be taken away just as soon as they were getting old enough to work and help with daily chores? And what child would wish to be wrenched from home and placed in unfamiliar surroundings, to work for unfamiliar people with no pay and no nearby family?

Maybe one day he could bring hope to the people himself. He wasn't sure how--and he wasn't sure when--but maybe in time all of that would come to him. For now, he was just a boy with big dreams. But maybe one day soon ... he would be a man with big plans.

A fluttering noise caught Clarkent's attention, and he looked upward to see a great Peregrine Falcon flying down from the sky. James landed on Peri's outstretched arm, gently latching on with his talons. The bird looked at Clarkent intently for a few seconds, and Clarkent couldn't help but think there was something very human-looking about that gaze.

"Good evening, James," Peri greeted. "The moon is shining brightly tonight, isn't she?"

The bird made the small "rep rep" noise Clarkent had come to associate with him, and Peri nodded, as if acknowledging what the falcon had said.

"I'm afraid I must be heading off," the older man said with a smile. "But it was nice talking with you, Clarkent. I hope you think about what I said. Remember to keep your chin up. And I wouldn't worry too much about whatever your parents told you. I'm sure you will learn the rest of the story one day. These things have a way of coming out eventually." He lifted his arm into the air, and James flew upward, circling above his head. As Peri walked away, the bird continued using circles to keep close to him.

Clarkent watched them leave. With those two, there was a bond between bird and man which seemed to go beyond that of falcon and falconer, but Peri was a special and mysterious person, and his relationship with James was simply one natural part of his mystery. Maybe Clarkent would learn more about the bird at some point, but if he didn't, then it really didn't matter. He enjoyed talking to Peri. Peri might have had his quirks, but he was a kind old man. The fact that he hadn't pried to learn the exact nature of Clarkent's secret spoke volumes for his integrity.

As he began to walk to the stable to make one last check on the horses--knowing Dwayne probably had taken care of everything, but wanting to be certain--he felt the burden of worry settle once more on his shoulders.

Next year, if his parents looked more tired than they did now, he would leave his post. No matter the shame that came upon him, no matter the punishment the crown decided to bring on his head ... he would find a way to help his parents. And maybe, somehow, he would find a way to help the common people. Maybe he could figure out how to give them hope.

***

Chapter 11: A Stone, a Sword, and an Adventure

"Clarkent, I want to go on an adventure!" Gawain proclaimed.

In just a few short months, Clarkent and Gawain had become great friends. At Gawain's persistent prompting, the pair continued acting out adventures, some of them made up and some of them based on tales Gawain had heard.

But for Gawain, it wasn't enough to act out adventures. No, Gawain began insisting adamantly that they have a real adventure ... and Clarkent was just as adamant on insisting they not willingly place themselves in danger.

Still, a few months after Clarkent turned fourteen, as the two boys sat on the grass and tried to think of something new to do during the short amount of time they had together before Clarkent had to go back to work, Gawain returned once more to what sometimes seemed like a constant mantra.

Clarkent groaned. "You always want to go on adventures." He would much rather act out one of Gawain's crazy stories than go try to make their own. What was the point in putting one's life at risk *on purpose*?

"I mean it this time," Gawain insisted, ever the pushy one. "And you can't tell me you're not hoping to have adventures one day." There was an impish gleam in his eye. "I *saw* you jumping on the back of Agides--"

Clarkent flushed in embarrassment. He had been practicing leaping onto horses from behind. It was a move he had seen Dwayne—who was surprisingly agile--do once, and he had wanted to duplicate it. He wasn't quite tall enough to make it every time, but he usually was able to do it about half the time. He had *thought*, however, that he'd been practicing unnoticed.

"It's too dangerous to go pursuing adventures," Clarkent said, trying to distract Gawain. "We should just stay here--"

"No," Gawain said as he narrowed his eyes. "I've heard reports of something that we have to investigate!"

"And what is that?" Clarkent asked with an exaggerated sigh.

"They say that running loose ... is a walking cookie!" Gawain proclaimed.

Clarkent groaned. "That's ridiculous."

Gawain narrowed his eyes. "I'm telling you--it's *not* ridiculous!"

"Yes, it is!"

"No, it's not," Gawain said firmly. "We live in a magical place, and I think a wizard has cast a spell on this cookie!"

"And *I* think you've been eating one too many of the cook's desserts," Clarkent returned. "I am *not* going to go pursue something so obviously fake. A walking cookie? Come on, Gawain!"

With a huff, Gawain crossed his arms. "Fine. We'll do something else if magical desserts aren't good enough for you!"

As Gawain began pacing, Clarkent lay back on the grass and closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes a few minutes later, Gawain was peering down at him.

"I have it!" Gawain exclaimed, backing away now that he had Clarkent's attention.

Clarkent sat up, wary of his friend's excitement. "You have ... what?"

"I know what we're going to do! We ... are going to go to the border!"

"No," Clarkent said immediately, not even needing to think about it twice. To even *consider* going to the border between Metropolita and the Barbarian Kingdom was utter foolishness.

"Come on," Gawain whined. "I've never been there before, and you know what's there ... "

Clarkent's heart beat just a little bit faster at the mere reference to the famous--or was that *in*famous?--landmark. But he tried to calm himself--there was absolutely no reason to go to see it--and he said in a you-should-know-better-than-this kind of tone, "A border patrol would catch us. Or they could be in the middle of a battle right now."

"That's why we go at night!" Gawain said, obviously proud at his foresight. "If we go at night, we can sneak to the border under the cover of darkness. If there's a battle going on, then we just run away. If there's a border patrol around, well, we'll just make sure we're quiet enough that they don't notice us."

It wouldn't work, would it? Clarkent shook his head. "This is a bad idea--"

"It's a *fun* idea, you mean!"

No, not *fun* exactly. But to know for sure ... to actually have seen ... Clarkent tried to shake himself out of his interest, saying, "No, that's not--"

"*Please*," Gawain pleaded. "I doubt anything bad will happen to us!"

"Famous last words," Clarkent muttered. But he couldn't help being tempted despite himself. What if Gawain was right? What if Clarkent was worrying over nothing? They didn't even have to stay for long--they could just sneak onto the border and then sneak back ... Right? Just long enough to see *it* ...

Releasing a soft sigh, he said, "Fine. But if something *does* happen to us, it's on *your* head."

"Yes!" Gawain said triumphantly, only focused on the fact that Clarkent had agreed to go. "You won't regret it."

Clarkent shook his head. "You'd better hope not."

***

They managed to enlist some help from Billy for their plan. They couldn't ride horses directly to the border, lest a border patrol hear them. So, that night, after Clarkent and Billy were done with their chores, Gawain and Clarkent rode together on Agides to a spot about a mile from the border with Billy riding on a horse behind them and muttering about how crazy they were for even thinking of doing something so dangerous. The plan was for Billy to look after Agides--protecting him from horse thieves--and await their return. Later, Billy would be compensated with a large supply of sweets from Gawain. It was a solid plan in theory, but Clarkent disliked every bit of it.

As Gawain and Clarkent slipped off Agides, Billy told them one last time, "You're both insane."

Gawain stuck his tongue out and began walking away. Clarkent gave a helpless look to Billy, who simply shook his head.

Clarkent sighed, and he and Gawain began their trek toward the border. Every step they took made Clarkent more nervous.

"It's not too late to turn back," he told Gawain after they had been walking for a few minutes. "We don't have to put ourselves in danger, you know."

But Gawain refused to see reason. "Don't be a coward. It's not like we're going to the Barbarian King's castle! We're just going to go look at the stone, and then we'll go back."

Clarkent sighed. He didn't want to admit even to himself that there was a small part of himself--a very, very *tiny* part of himself--that was a little excited at the thought of seeing what he had only heard stories of.

As they got closer to the border, they began moving slower, conscious of the need to be quiet. And finally, they had arrived ... and there *it* was.

The stone wasn't as massive as Clarkent had heard it was, but it was still big. It stood right on the border of the two kingdoms, marking where one began and the other ended. But more important than the presence of the stone was what was *in* it.

Jammed into the top of the stone was a sword, its blade just barely able to be seen gleaming silver in the night. The grip of the sword was jet black, but the circular pommel and the long cross-guard were plated in gold which was woven in intricate patterns. It was utterly magnificent.

Clarkent and Gawain crept closer toward it, awed into silence. There were many mysterious stories surrounding the sword. Most people said it was enchanted. But whether that was true or not, the sword was beautiful.

As they moved up to the sword, Clarkent's eyes dropped to the part of the stone directly beneath it. Below the sword was some kind of writing. He only knew how to read the little bit that his parents had taught him before he'd been Assigned, but he knew that the writing wasn't in a Metropolitan script.

Gawain noticed Clarkent staring at the writing. "That's the script of the Barbarian Kingdom," Gawain noted in a whisper. "We may speak the same language, but we don't write the same way." He reached out and touched the script, following it with his fingers. "I don't know what the words say. Some people claim it's a nasty spell. Others say it warns Metropolitans to stay away."

"What do you think it says?" Clarkent asked quietly.

"I don't know," Gawain said with a frown. "The sword appeared several years ago, so you would think someone would have figured it out by now, but no one in Metropolita knows ... Or if they do, they aren't saying anything. People are too scared of this place."

An owl hooted in the darkness, and Clarkent shivered. "I don't blame them." He was really beginning to regret having come here--not that he had been happy to do so in the first place.

"Let's try to get it out," Gawain said eagerly, climbing up the stone.

"I don't think that's a good i--"

"Oh, come on!" Gawain said, his voice slightly louder than it should have been. "Let's each try it, and then we can go back."

"All right," Clarkent agreed nervously. "Let's hurry."

Gawain stood up on top of the stone, a big grin on his face. He leaned down and placed his small hands around the hilt of the sword, bending his knees to prepare for the effort of pulling at it. He was about to both straighten up and pull at it when the light clopping of horse hooves sounded nearby, and he froze.

Clarkent turned sharply in a panic and then hissed at Gawain, "Get down!"

But it was too late. A border patrolman from the Barbarian Kingdom was guiding his bay horse their way, and the light from his torch splashed onto the two boys, revealing their frightened faces.

"Hey!" the man shouted in surprise.

"Run!" Clarkent yelled to Gawain before taking off. He heard Gawain leap off the rock and come sprinting after him.

The sound of another horse galloping reached Clarkent's ears, and he realized that the man on horseback had been patrolling with someone else.

It didn't take long for the first patrolman to react, and Clarkent heard him clicking to his horse, whose hooves soon pounded the ground.

"Let go of me!" Gawain shouted from behind Clarkent.

Turning his head as he ran, Clarkent saw that the man had scooped up a struggling Gawain and was trying to keep him from jumping off the front of the horse--something which was made more difficult by the fact that he was wearing armor.

Clarkent hesitated only for a second before running toward them. The man was having a hard time controlling both his horse and Gawain (who he held sideways over his lap), and that gave Clarkent hope that what he was about to try would work.

He raced to the back side of the horse and leapt into the air as he'd been practicing, fumbling and holding tightly on to the horse's hind quarters and saddle as he scrambled upward into a seated position. The man holding Gawain twisted in confusion, and Clarkent, praying he wasn't being an utter fool, leaned to the side and pulled Gawain toward him by the back of his shirt with one hand while pushing at the man with his other hand. Despite the fact that Gawain wasn't heavy, Clarkent almost lost him over the side of the horse anyway as the boy's legs swung downward, but Gawain fortunately had enough presence of mind to latch on to Clarkent's midsection as he was pulled, even if his legs *were* dangling precariously over the edge of the horse. But--as was Clarkent's goal--the patrolman did fall off the horse with a thud and a curse.

Clarkent helped pull Gawain all the way up on the horse and in front of him on the saddle, and he put his arms around the younger boy, taking the reins and using his feet and a clicking noise to encourage the horse to gallop away.

***

When Loisette was yanked by the stableboy, she had known for certain she was going to fall off the horse and be trampled to death by it. Somehow, however, she bypassed that gruesome fate by throwing her arms around Clarkent. Her legs weren't on the horse, and she was certain she was still going to hit the ground, but then Clarkent was helping her up and putting his arms around her to grab at the reins.

Their stolen horse jumped forward, and Loisette's heart leapt with it. She was suddenly very conscious of her closeness with Clarkent, and her pulse--which was already beating madly because of the danger they were in--quickened for some inexplicable reason.

Behind them, Loisette could hear the other patrolman hot on their trail, and she closed her eyes and leaned back into Clarkent. <*Please let us get out of this alive,*> she prayed.

The minutes passed as they raced in the darkness, not aiming to reach Billy, just heading for somewhere *away* from the man chasing them. They were in Metropolitan territory, but he was persistent in his pursuit. Finally, however, they could no longer hear him following.

Loisette allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief, though her heart was still pounding. The man's armor had probably hindered his speed. Thank goodness for that!

Clarkent slowed the horse down and told her, "I think ... I think we're safe now."

"Yeah," she returned slowly.

They were both quiet for a minute, wrapped up in thoughts of their close encounter with someone from the Barbarian Kingdom.

And then, strangely, Loisette's mind returned to her physical proximity to Clarkent. It felt so strange to be in his arms like this, and she just didn't know why. Was there a reason for the hitch in her breath?

"We're alive ... " Clarkent said, as if uncertain whether they really *were* alive.

Loisette nodded slowly. "What--what do we do with the horse?"

Clarkent paused, shifting his arms around her to get a better grip on the reins. "Uh--point it in the direction of home?"

Loisette frowned to herself. "If we did that, we would be giving the enemy more resources. Shouldn't we keep it? You know, for the good side?"

"Umm ... how would we explain how we got it?" he asked her.

She sighed. "Fine. What if we just let it roam free? Someone will see its brand and realize it isn't from Metropolita. Then *they* can decide what to do with it."

"All right." He hesitated. "Maybe we should let it free here so it isn't too close to the border--maybe it'll be less likely to run back home."

"Good idea," Loisette agreed.

"You want to dismount first?" he asked her.

"Uh, yeah," she said, trying to cover her nervousness. As Gawain, she and Clarkent usually didn't ride horses that often, so she still wasn't completely comfortable with riding astride, much less dismounting by herself. But she wasn't going to let it look like she was afraid. And besides--she had done it earlier in front of Billy.

Clarkent removed his left foot from the stirrup, and she placed hers in its place. Then she awkwardly brought her right foot underneath her, trying not to hit Clarkent. She leaned over the saddle on her stomach, removed her foot from the stirrup, and slid to the ground.

He smiled down at her and then dismounted himself, though he did so much more gracefully. He gently hit the horse's hind quarters and said, "Hyah!"

The horse obediently began running off, and they watched it for a few seconds.

Loisette turned to Clarkent, feeling suddenly shy. "Thank—thank you for rescuing me."

He narrowed his eyes. "This is why adventures were a bad idea."

She gave him a lopsided grin. "You didn't have fun?"

"No," he said firmly.

She was certain she was lying, but she didn't call him on it. Instead, she said, "Let's go back to Billy. I think we've had enough excitement for one night."

"You're telling me," Clarkent muttered.

She simply ignored him. She had had her adventure. And that meant she had won.

***

Chapter 12: Enlightening Visits

Months passed.

The taste of one adventure had left Gawain hungering for more, but Clarkent kept digging in his heels. They were kids, he had argued, and kids weren't supposed to be out having adventures. Gawain disagreed ... but appeared not to have any desire to go adventuring *alone*, so Clarkent felt they were probably safe.

When Gawain got his hands on a treasure map covered in cryptic clues, Clarkent had very reluctantly agreed to pursue finding the treasure. But it had turned out to be a wild goose chase, much to Clarkent's relief, and there was no danger in it.

One byproduct of what Clarkent referred to sarcastically as the Great Treasure Map Hunt was that Gawain discovered Clarkent didn't really know how to read. Since Clarkent hadn't really had the opportunity to practice what little his parents had taught him, he wasn't very good at it.

Gawain, however, had volunteered to give reading lessons to Clarkent, who had gratefully accepted the offer.

During one of those reading lessons, Clarkent threw down in frustration the letter he had been attempting to read. "It doesn't make sense!" he exclaimed. "Why is the word spelled like that? One, two, honest, who--none of them make any sense!"

"I don't make the rules," Gawain said matter-of-factly. He picked the letter up and pointed at the offending word. "But I'm telling you ... that is how you spell it."

Clarkent grabbed Gawain's wrist and looked at his palm. It was smooth and had no calluses at all. It was like the words "I do not do manual labor" were written all over it. "Errand boys," Clarkent murmured in annoyance as he shook his head.

Gawain snatched his hand away. "Do you want help or not?"

Clarkent sighed. "I guess," he muttered. He squinted down at the letter, decided he didn't want to read any more that day, and then looked up at Gawain, hoping to distract him. "Are you going to see your family on Visiting Day?" The holiday was next week, and Clarkent was looking forward to it with some trepidation. What would his parents look like this year? Would they appear even more haggard than they had the last time he saw them?

"No," Gawain said uncomfortably. "My ... my parents aren't alive."

Clarkent looked at Gawain with an expression of sincere sorrow. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." Gawain had mentioned a father before, and Clarkent had just assumed ... well, that he was alive.

Gawain just shrugged and looked down at the letter, one of his fingers twitching against it.

"Hey," Clarkent said brightly, "I have an idea. Why don't you come with me and meet my parents?"

Gawain frowned. "I don't know," he said with some hesitance. "I don't think--"

"Come on," Clarkent pressed. "I bet you'll enjoy meeting them. I'm sure they'd like to meet you." He tried to give Gawain an encouraging smile.

"Oh, all right," Gawain agreed reluctantly. "If you insist."

Clarkent smiled. "Well, I do."

"I'm sure you do," Gawain muttered.

***

When Visiting Day came, Loisette was immensely nervous, though she wasn't sure why. It was harder than normal to slip away from Catherine, who the previous year had come to realize the princess's dislike of the holiday, and Loisette knew she couldn't stay away from her lady-in-waiting for too long without completely arousing her suspicions. But she had promised to come visit the stableboy's parents, and she was going to keep that promise.

Still, when she met Clarkent, she told him, "I can't stay for long--I have some things I need to do."

He nodded. "All right. We normally start by walking around the stable, but maybe it would be better if we went to the market first." He made a jerking gesture with his head for her to follow him, and he quickly took her to where his parents were waiting.

They were a kind-looking older couple with graying hair. Their clothes were worn and their faces weather-beaten, but they looked happy. Staring at them, Loisette thought she realized why Clarkent was (usually) so nice. Their smiles were warm and genuine--and she knew immediately that these were good people.

"Mom, Dad," Clarkent said, "this is Gawain. Gawain, these are my parents, Jon and Marta."

Loisette almost curtseyed before she caught herself and gave an awkward sort of half-bow. "It's good to meet you," she said.

"It's good to meet you, too," Marta returned warmly. "Clarkent has told us you two are great friends, and we're glad you could spend some time with us."

Loisette smiled and nodded, but she felt a pang of sorrow shoot through her chest. Clarkent's mother seemed so nice, and it made her wonder--was this what her mother would have been like? Everyone had always told her how wonderful Queen Ellena was, but all Loisette had of her mother was a wisp of a memory. If Loisette's mother and baby sister had lived, would they have made a happy family like this? Would the dark nights Loisette had spent have been wiped away by a mother's love or a sister's laugh?

Once, she had felt so friendless. Now, however, she wasn't feeling that. As Gawain, she had Clarkent, and as Loisette, she had Catherine. She was no longer that lonely little girl throwing tantrums on the floor.

But in spite of all that, there was a hole in her heart she suspected would always be there--a hole for a mother who had passed away and was gone forever. She tried to fill that hole with snippets of others' memories of her mother, as if one day she would have a complete picture that would soothe her sorrow and bring her mother back to life. But nothing could do that. Some holes could not be filled ... and some wounds would always remain open. The pain could dim to a dull throb, but it would never completely disappear.

Clarkent didn't realize how lucky he was to have both his parents alive, she reflected. He had their love and support and caring--and he could talk to them about anything. They just seemed like that kind of people. She at least had friends now, but they were ones she couldn't tell everything to. She was slowly beginning to see how the magic clothes were in some ways as much a curse as a blessing. If she could just tell her two friends everything about her--tell them how she wanted to be respected as a person and go on great adventures and not be treated as if she were a fragile vase in danger of toppling to the floor--but she couldn't. She was a princess, and she had her duties. No one could know that she had done something as dangerous as going to the border or as scandalous as riding a horse astride. She could share her full self with no one.

She finally turned her attention back to her company. Clarkent was saying, "He can't stay the whole time, so I think we should go to the market first. I can show you the stable later." He flashed a smile at Loisette which she feebly returned. "Gawain's already really familiar with the stable."

"Then the market it is," Jon said with a smile.

As Loisette followed them toward town, she couldn't help but wonder if her father would travel a great distance just to spend a few hours with her. But he couldn't find time to be with her even though they lived in the same castle.

***

Clarkent was glad to be able to bring his good friend to meet his parents. He saw Gawain nearly every day, and he looked forward to their visits, even though Gawain almost always had some ridiculous idea up his sleeve. He had noticed the princess coming to the stable with her lady-in-waiting to ride less often, and he had been saddened by it, but he knew it was the way of things. She was growing up, and she had better things to do with her time than spend it riding horses. But though it was seldom and never for long, he still relished every second he was able to see her--and whenever she flashed a smile at him, it was enough to make him float on air for days. Why exactly that was ... well, it wasn't something he wanted to examine too closely. He told himself she was simply a friend he did not want to lose—though he knew that one day he would indeed lose her.

He threw a glance over at his parents as they walked toward town to go to the market. Though his parents looked no worse than last year, they still seemed ... worn.

They smiled more than they had when he last saw them, and they lacked that nervous energy they had had when they prepared to tell him the secret they had harbored, but their hard work was obviously still taking its toll. Their appearance wasn't enough to make him completely abandon his Assigned job at the stable, but it was enough to worry him.

His mother had taken a real shine to Gawain and was telling him some silly story about a chicken that used to follow Clarkent around when he was little. He had named the chicken "Hawthorn" after a flowering tree and even sometimes ate at the table with the bird at his feet. At night, he even sang to the chicken.

"Mom," Clarkent said, his cheeks red, "that's not that great of a story--"

"I think it is!" Gawain said mirthfully, obviously relishing in Clarkent's embarrassment.

"I bet you do," Clarkent muttered, but Gawain just laughed at him.

***

They went to the market to look around, and Loisette found the experience quite enjoyable. She never needed to go to the market herself, as she had plenty of servants to send out to buy what she wanted or needed, but the sights and smells and sounds of the market were really something! It was such a busy world there, filled with countless diversions.

She dodged a rooster, smiling as she thought of the chicken Marta had been talking about and a very young Clarkent singing lullabies to it, and paused to look at some pretty fabrics. Marta was looking at some jewelry with Jon standing behind her, and Clarkent came up to Gawain.

"These are nice," she said, reaching out to touch a red and gold one.

"Yeah," Clarkent agreed distractedly. Loisette looked up and saw him staring at his parents with a sad expression on his face.

"Your mother should buy one of those necklaces," she said, noticing Marta touching a particularly pretty one. "They would look really good on her."

Clarkent's face clouded over. "We never buy anything here," he mumbled. "We ... we can't afford it." He shook his head in sudden fury. "All my parents can buy is ... is *food* and *clothes* and things they have to have around the house." His face tightened. "And some people can't even afford that."

Loisette frowned. "You must be exaggerating a little--"

"I'm not," Clarkent stated flatly, frowning back. "You aren't a Noble--how did *your* family come up with money for things? It's not like you're paid for what you do. The rich are breaking the back of the poor, and they don't even care!"

Loisette bit back a response, knowing it would just worsen Clarkent's mood. But as she followed him and his parents around the marketplace, looking at the stalls filled with pretty trinkets and delicious-smelling desserts, she began to feel very troubled. Certainly, Assigned servants didn't get a monetary compensation for their services to send to their families. But they were fed and clothed and housed. That was all that mattered, wasn't it?

But she just couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about the whole process.

***

Gawain left after they were done with the market, and Clarkent walked with his parents to the Riding Stable.

"Your friend seems very nice," his mother commented. "I'm glad you have someone to play with."

Clarkent gave a weak smile, his thoughts in darker places. "Yeah. I am, too."

He pulled his mind away from the Assigning briefly to concentrate on his mother and father. They hadn't mentioned their not being his real parents this time, and he hadn't either. But he felt the air should be cleared a little before another year went by, and he coughed nervously, drawing his parents' attention toward him. "I want you both to know," he said, a lump clinging to the inside of his throat, "that even if you aren't my real parents, it doesn't matter. I love you both just as much as I would if we were related by blood."

His mother suddenly engulfed him in a hug that was full of love. "Oh, we feel the same way, honey."

His father clapped him on the shoulder as he pulled away from his mother feeling just the slightest bit misty-eyed. "We're very proud of you," Clarkent's father said. "And you've always been our son where it counted." He patted his heart twice with his hand and held it there, and Clarkent smiled at him, his own heart full to bursting.

He was so fortunate to have been raised by them--and he was also fortunate that they came to see him every year so that he could spend time with them. Not every family did--or could--visit their Assigned children. Those who did visit were giving their children a priceless gift. When Clarkent had first left his family, one of the only reasons he made it through the day was the thought that his situation wasn't for forever--he would see his parents again ... and eventually leave his work at the castle.

They walked in silence after that, but it was a companionable silence, and at last they reached their destination. They found Dwayne in the stable working with the horses, and Clarkent's parents, who had met him before, struck up a conversation with him.

Clarkent stood apart from them, petting Esroh Repus's nose. His thoughts were back on what he had talked about with Gawain at the market. Clarkent hated the Assigning so much--and he wanted to hate Metropolita's king for not abolishing it.

Was it so hard to pay servants? Was it so hard to give people a choice about whether or not they wanted to leave their families and start up in utterly new surroundings?

King Samuel was just a figurehead who sat around all day and did nothing! Why didn't he listen to the people's cries for help?

Clarkent stared at his parents, who were smiling and laughing as they talked with Dwayne. His mother and father deserved a better life. It wasn't fair that they were working themselves to the bone while he was unable to do a single thing to help them! Every year, they gave him a few precious coins, and every year he hid those coins, too ashamed to spend them like his parents wanted him to, not wanting to pay for some frivolity when they were working so hard just to get their bread and butter. They were such good people--why had life been so cruel to them?

He stepped away from the horse and went to his parents' sides, where he hugged his mother fiercely against him. She gave him a startled look but then smiled and hugged him back.

"I love you, Mom," he whispered. "I love you so much."

***

When his parents left, Clarkent felt a shadow of fear settle over his heart. Would they still be alive the next year? Would they have worked themselves to death? If they did, he would never forgive himself.

In less than three years, he could leave to help them. Could they wait that long?

Clarkent grimly turned to Esroh Repus, touching his forehead to the horse's nose.

"Something wrong?" Dwayne asked from behind him.

Clarkent turned to look at the older man. Dwayne was standing there and leaning on a shovel, an expression of concern on his face.

"I hate the Assigning," Clarkent muttered, unable to help himself. "King Samuel just sits there in his castle, doing *nothing*. He doesn't deserve to be king." The words were borderline treasonous, but Clarkent didn't care. He was too upset.

"It may seem that way sometimes," Dwayne said calmly, "but there's more to being a king than just sitting on a throne. Tomorrow, you should take some time off work and go see a little of what King Samuel actually does. Every day, His Majesty has a time set aside for settling disputes. He has his court magician, Peregrine the White, with him to offer counsel, but ultimately the decisions of what to do to help the people rest in his hands. Maybe you'll see it's not so easy to be a king after all."

Clarkent looked away, a little ashamed at his petulance. "All right. I'll do that."

***

The next day, Clarkent went to the castle--admittedly, with some reluctance--to see King Samuel address conflict among his people. Metropolita's king was seated on his magnificent throne and robed in red and gold majesty. Beside him was the great Peregrine the White, who was wearing his own impressive deep blue robes and holding his magician's staff. But Clarkent froze in utter shock when he saw and recognized the bird perched on the magician's shoulder. It was the falcon, James, and that meant ... Peregrine the White was actually *Peri*.

He nearly stumbled backward at the realization. Peri was a *magician*? Why hadn't he told Clarkent that?

Suddenly, he felt very dumb. He'd known that Peregrine the White had a bird as an animal familiar--both the presence of James and his weird connection with Peri should have tipped Clarkent off. But he had thought Peri was just a kind old man who simply worked somewhere near the castle. He hadn't realized the man was one of the kingdom's most important political advisors. It felt like a betrayal--like a good friend had just revealed something crucialhe had been holding back.

The stunning realization was almost enough to cause Clarkent to leave right then, but he forced himself to calm down and stay. A magician had been mentoring him and helping look out for him. So what?

But his heart was still thumping as he cast his eyes on the monarch sitting at the back of the large room.

King Samuel seemed very sad. Clarkent saw that very quickly. But there was a certain nobility in the king's mien. King Samuel may not have wanted to be in that great room, but he took the petitions of his supplicants seriously at least.

Clarkent watched as complainants came forward one at a time. This man was accusing another of stealing an important piece of equipment; that man was claiming someone had cheated him by selling him a lame mule. The number of complaints seemed immeasurable, but King Samuel listened patiently to each and then submitted judgment after having a quiet conversation with his court magician. Clarkent didn't agree with all of the monarch's decisions, but it was obvious King Samuel was doing what he believed best, and none of the supplicants argued with what he told them. Once a decision was made, the next complainant came forward.

When Clarkent had seen enough to realize that King Samuel did *not* simply sit around all day, he prepared to leave. Across the room, Peri--no, *Peregrine the White*--caught his eyes, and Clarkent's mouth became a grim line, and he gave a curt nod of farewell.

***

Later that day, Peregrine the White came to the Riding Stable with his falcon. Clarkent was saddling a horse for someone, but when he was done, the magician stepped forward and asked if he could talk to Clarkent outside.

Clarkent wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of talking to the older man, as he was still reeling from the news that he had been associating with such an important figure, but he agreed and followed him out of the stable.

"Why didn't you tell me you were Peregrine the White?" Clarkent blurted out. "Why did you lead me to believe you were just some--some strange old man?" It was deception by omission. After they had seen each other so often, shouldn't Peri have told him what exactly it was that he did for a career?

The left corner of the magician's mouth lifted at the "strange old man" comment, and he said calmly, "You never asked."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Clarkent asked with a frown.

Peregrine the White gave him a "look," and Clarkent realized he was in for another of the older man's stories. "Now, son," began Peregrine the White, "that has everything to do with it. You know, one day, the King heard of a rare flower that grew in the middle of the forest, and he wanted to get it for his true love for her birthday. So, determined to get that flower no matter what, he went to the forest alone ... and was attacked by a bear whose cub was playing nearby. He *did* end up getting the flower without dying, but when he returned with his prize in hand, he learned that his true love didn't actually like flowers.

"Now, had he *asked* her what she wanted for her birthday, she would have told him she wanted a fluffy white cat. But he didn't ask her, and so he had to find it out the hard way. You're going to have to learn, son, that sometimes it's important to seek information. If it was handed to you on a silver platter, well, you wouldn't be getting much out of the experience, would you?"

Clarkent squinted, trying to follow the logic of Peregrine the White's story. He wasn't sure he understood what the lesson was--or even if there *was* one--but it was enough to make him realize that he didn't want to stay upset with the magician. Just talking with him was always enough to make him feel better.

"I guess it is," Clarkent acknowledged with a sigh. "But I do have one question ... What do I call you now?"

"The same thing you always have," the magic user said with a smile. "Peri."

"All right ... Peri." Now that Clarkent knew the older man was King Samuel's court magician, it was hard to think of addressing him so informally, but Clarkent had been doing so for a while now, so he might as well stick with it.

Peri slapped a hand on Clarkent's shoulder. "That's a good boy!"

Clarkent rolled his eyes. The man certainly didn't *act* like an all-powerful magician.

***

Chapter 13: Presents of Mind and Body

The fifteen-year-old Clarkent was outside the stable assisting a knight with his horse--a new stallion called Monsieur Edward which the knight had bought on a whim and which was apparently terrified of entering stables--when he saw her.

It had been more than a month since Clarkent had rested his eyes on Princess Loisette, and he had been close to despairing that he would never see her again. But there she was with Lady Catherine, the two of them taking a leisurely stroll, talking and laughing. Her hair had been curled and looked soft to the touch, and her eyes were sparkling with amusement. There was something in her smile that pulled him, and in his distraction, he was almost knocked over by the horse as it swung its head. Ducking, he shook himself out of his reverie and went back to concentrating on getting Monsieur Edward to stop gnashing his teeth and start walking into the stable.

But his heart was still pounding. The princess was so beautiful.

***

After he finally finished helping the knight--who determined that his best recourse was to take Monsieur Edward back to where he had gotten him--Clarkent returned to inside of the Riding Stable and did his chores. When he was done, he went and stood in front of Esroh Repus, holding out a handful of oats.

As the horse nibbled at the proffered food, his big and velvety lips causing a tickling sensation as they brushed gently across the stableboy's fingers, Clarkent was navigating the churning sea of his thoughts.

Another Visiting Day had passed a few weeks ago. It had been great to see his parents again, and Gawain had even accompanied them for a little while. After Gawain had left, Clarkent had told his parents of his discovery shortly after the last Visiting Day: that the old man who had been so friendly to him was actually the great Peregrine the White. They had smiled and told him how glad they were that someone was looking out for him, but they hadn't said much more.

The passing of another Visiting Day had meant a visual confirmation of the fact that his parents had survived another year, and he was glad for that. They looked a little less fatigued than they had the last few years--they said their work was going better than ever--and he was able to rest a little easier, though he still was counting down the days until he could return home to help them.

Esroh Repus finished off the oats and stared at him, as if wondering where the rest was.

"I miss the princess," Clarkent whispered softly to the horse, surprising himself. It was true.

He had loved watching her ride or gently pet High Flyer. She was so spirited and full of life, and he wished he could talk to her alone--even for just a few minutes. But he couldn't go to her. He had to wait until she came with her lady-in-waiting to ride horses ... or until he chanced to see her passing by, as he had today. And to be so much in the hands of fate ... was maddening. But there was nothing he could do. He was only a stableboy.

He thought back to a few years ago when they had danced together out in the field. It was something that had only happened once, but he still carried the memory of it in his heart. There had been a moment there where he'd forgotten he was a stableboy and simply gotten lost in her voice and the rhythm of the song.

Petting the horse, Clarkent continued talking in a low voice. "I don't know why. I knew she had to--to start growing up sometime. She couldn't dance with stableboys for long." He chuckled to himself. "It's not like I was even a very good dancer."

Esroh Repus just looked at him out of one eye and then shook his head with a snort.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" Clarkent asked loudly, his eyes narrowed at the horse. Then he shook his head and grinned at his own ridiculousness. He was standing in a stable talking to a horse. "Maybe I am," he admitted.

"Oh, somehow, I doubt that," said a voice from behind him, and Clarkent turned.

Peri stood there, one arm holding his staff and the other holding against his chest something long and shrouded in an old brown blanket. "After all, only sane people suspect they might be insane."

Clarkent squinted at him, giving him a doubtful look. "Uh ... right."

"I would like to talk to you outside," Peri said shortly, gesturing toward the stable entrance.

Clarkent glanced at the others working in the stable and then nodded. He followed the magician outside to behind the stable, where there was nobody around.

Peri smiled at him. "I have a gift for you, Clarkent."

"A--a gift?" Clarkent stammered. Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't this.

Peri nodded affirmatively. Setting his staff on the ground, he maneuvered the covered object so that it was resting across both his hands and held it out to Clarkent.

Hesitantly, Clarkent slipped the blanket off the item, revealing a long object that was unmistakable. A sword.

With a gasp, Clarkent reached out to touch the sword's black scabbard. A golden dragon breathed flames up the length of the metal encasing the weapon. Clarkent ran his finger down the flames, almost afraid. He had never touched a sword before. He had been close when he and Gawain had been at the border, but they had been discovered before he could touch the sword himself.

"This was the King's first sword," Peri noted quietly. Somehow, Clarkent knew he wasn't talking about King Samuel. Gawain had told him that the symbol of the Barbarian Kingdom was the dragon, and here was more evidence of that.

Clarkent's mind and fingers finally reconnected, and he withdrew his hand and took a few steps backward. "I can't take this," he said heavily, speaking with a slight hint of regret. "This is too precious a gift."

"Nonsense," the magician said, pushing the sword toward him. "I wish for you to have it. A magician has no use for a sword."

"But it was your friend's--"

"And now it is yours," Peri stated flatly. He was beginning to look a little irked, like a cat that was trying to sleep with a child pulling at its tail.

Holding his breath, Clarkent stumbled forward and put one hand on the end of the scabbard and the other on the sword's hilt. He gently lowered the scabbard and unsheathed the sword, which glinted in the sunlight. With his right hand, he shifted it left and right, feeling the weight of it. "Thank you," he whispered suddenly, touched by the gift. His parents had given him what small presents they could afford, and Gawain and the princess had given him cake, but he had never been given something like this before, and it touched him deeply.

"We'll start sword-fighting lessons tomorrow after your work is done."

"What?" Clarkent squeaked. Looking embarrassed, he cleared his throat and said in a more normal tone, "What do you mean?" He hadn't really thought beyond the fact that he had been given something he had never in his wildest dreams been able to hold much less own.

"What's the point of a sword if you don't know how to use it?" Peri asked with a smile.

"I guess you're right," Clarkent mumbled. He looked down at the sword in his right hand, at the black and gold hilt and the sharp edges of the blade. His heart was beating with excitement. To be able to use a sword--

But then the practical side of him caught up with the boyish part, and he asked in confusion, "Why are you doing all this?" Why put a sword in the hands of a stableboy and teach him how to use it?

The older man's expression became serious, and he exhaled slowly. "One day, Clarkent, you will have to fight."

Clarkent pulled his eyebrows inward. "But what will I be fighting for?"

The magician gave him a smile that seemed almost sad. "You'll find out soon enough. Let's just take this one day at a time."

"All right," Clarkent agreed, his eyes drawn once more to the sword. It was the most valuable possession he had ever had.

***

The evening of the next day, Clarkent collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion. By "sword-fighting lessons," Peri had meant doing a series of drills over and over out in the middle of the woods where no one would see them. Clarkent hadn't even gotten the opportunity to stab a straw man or slash a stick in two.

But Peri had insisted that it was important to become comfortable with his sword--and for it to become part of himself--before he could start thinking of truly using it.

Peri had also taught Clarkent how to clean his weapon using animal fat. Apparently, there were different things to think about in regard to a sword's upkeep--cleaning blood off it, keeping it sharp, removing rust ... It was a bit like a horse in that way--it needed some care to keep working properly for its master. And Clarkent was good at that sort of thing.

"I guess that's enough for one day," Peri commented wryly as he stared down at Clarkent.

James, who was on the magician's shoulder, appeared to agree: "Rep rep rep rep."

Clarkent looked up at them. "Thanks," he said, feeling a bit sheepish for having just flung himself to the ground. He was glad he worked in the stables rather than the kitchen. At least his stable work had kept his muscles in shape--though they obviously weren't in good enough shape if the way they were aching now was any indication of his fitness. "I appreciate the help."

Peri smiled. "I will see you tomorrow around the same time."

"Great!" Clarkent returned happily. It felt like he was working toward something, and that made him feel good. What he was working toward, he wasn't exactly sure, but for now ... it didn't matter.

He touched the dragon on the sword's scabbard, smiling.

***

A week later, Loisette was in her room with her lady-in-waiting when there was a knock on the door. Upon opening the door, she saw it was Peregrine the White, and she smiled. "Peri," she said warmly. She used to call him by his full name, but ever since he had insisted in front of Clarkent that she call him "Peri," the name had stuck with her. In addition, since Gawain had been expected to call him by that name--she had been in her boy persona and seen Peri more than once since their first frightening meeting--it was a good habit to get into.

"Your Highness," he returned with a bow. His eyes flicked toward Catherine, and he nodded at her in greeting. "I wonder if I might have a word with you alone?"

Catherine muttered, "Sure. Just dismiss the hired help." But she didn't seem angry, and she left the room without any further comments.

After closing the door, Losiette invited the magician to have a seat, but he insisted on standing.

"How are you doing, Your Highness?" he asked her after glancing around the room.

Loisette couldn't help but gaze around quickly herself to see if something was amiss, but everything looked like it was in order. "I'm doing fine," she answered.

He turned his eyes to her and smiled. "You certainly look healthier than you did a few years ago. There was a while there where everyone was really worried about you, Your Highness."

Loisette looked down at her feet, examining a dirty smudge on one of her shoes as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. "Well, I'm fine now."

"I'm glad to hear it, Your Highness." He turned his eyes to a spot in the wall, and she wondered if he realized that it was home to her mouse friend. "Did you know that a fairy godmother gave you and your mother the power to speak to animals at your births?" he said suddenly.

Loisette blinked. Skepticism warred with surprise in her head, and confusion reared up and clobbered both of them. "I had a fairy godmother?" was all she could bring herself to ask.

He looked at her with obvious amusement. "Every girl does. Fairies like to look out for young girls, Your Highness. They know how tough it can be for them to live in a man's world such as this."

A wistful smile came to her face. When she was younger, she had dreamed of a beautiful fairy with sparkling wings coming to her and whisking her away to fairyland. But she had never actually thought she could have a fairy godmother looking out for her, no matter what everyone had said. A thought occurred to her, and she asked, "Peri, who is my fairy godmother?"

He gave her a look that was almost scolding. "Fairy godmothers don't like to reveal their identities until they're really needed--if they ever even do reveal themselves. I wouldn't worry about the specifics, Your Highness."

Realizing he wasn't going to give her some clues, she ventured, "What is this about talking to animals? I've never been able to do that--not with us understanding each other."

"It's something you must be taught. To communicate, you have to learn to open up your mind. It's not an isolated experience; it's a sharing process. Animals, as you know, are frequently quiet. Most of them do not speak much, and when they do, it is often with body languages. They rely on their senses--on images, smells, and textures--to get a sense of the world around them. This is information they don't have to talk about with others of their species--the others are receiving that information as well, so there is no need. Humans rely too much on imparting information through verbal communication ... and often forget about the world around us."

Loisette frowned. "How do you get past something like that?"

"That's part of the magic. It can take what an animal is feeling and put it into understandable words in a human's head. Sometimes, however, even the magic can't verbally express something, so it simply gives an image--usually, however, that is enough to get a point across."

"But how do you talk to them? I've talked to animals before and never had a response ... "

Peri tapped his staff gently on the ground, looking toward Robert Bigmouth's hole. "Is there someone there?" he asked gently, speaking in the direction of the mouse's home.

A small gray head popped out. His nose twitching furiously, Robert Bigmouth took a few tentative steps forward.

"Sit by him," Peri said. "Look into his eyes. Think a little bit more like a mouse."

Beginning to doubt the magician's sanity, Loisette nonetheless did as he said. If her mother really *did* have the ability to talk to animals, then maybe she did, too. It wasn't *that* farfetched, was it?

She stared at Robert's dark eyes, lowering her hand for him to crawl into and trying to think about what went on in mice's heads. "Come here, Robert," she said in a soft voice.

He moved forward in bursts before finally setting his front feet on her hand. With a little encouragement, he was coaxed up fully into Loisette's hand. She brought him up toward her face and stared at him. Then, thinking, wishing, believing, hoping, pushing, *feeling*,* *she managed to say with a remarkable amount of effort, "***Hello, Robert.***"

"***Hiya,***" came the reply, and she nearly jumped.

The mouse hadn't spoken out loud--certainly, his mouth hadn't moved--but the word had formed in her head. Startled, she looked up at Peregrine the White, who was smiling down at her.

"Very good," the magician told her.

Proud of herself, Loisette turned back to the mouse. "***My name is Princess Loisette,***" she told him, glad he could understand her at last. "***I named you 'Robert Bigmouth.' Is that okay?***"

"***Sure,***" he responded, bringing his hands up to smooth down his whiskers.

She grinned at him. "***You're a cute mouse.***"

But all that came back to her was a mental picture of a large chunk of cheese, and she laughed. There was no need to transform *that* image into words.

***

Chapter 14: The Runaway

As the weeks went by, Clarkent became more skilled at handling his sword. Though they were usually careful to try to practice where they would be unseen, as fighting was something generally believed to belong to the Nobility, Peri would encourage Gawain to practice with Clarkent from time to time. Peri would guide the two boys through self-defense moves or make them sword-fight with wooden facsimiles of swords (which could really hurt when they were shoved into a stomach or sent a splinter into an uncovered arm). Clarkent, who suffered occasionally from masculine pride, had assumed at first--erroneously--that he would do ten times better than the short and scrawny Gawain, but Gawain's small stature gave him one advantage: speed. That advantage had quickly taken Clarkent down a few notches.

They were practicing sword-fighting this time without Peri's guidance. Gawain was fiercely competitive, and Clarkent, though not as competitive, felt it was crucial he become the best he could at sword-fighting, especially considering that he was the one who actually *owned* a sword.

Clarkent narrowed his eyes as Gawain practically danced around their "battlefield." The smaller boy's wooden sword was raised, but his feet were carrying him all over the grass in front of Clarkent as he waited for a strike. Gawain definitely lacked strength, but strength was next to useless to Clarkent if he couldn't land a blow on his opponent.

"Are you scared?" Gawain called out teasingly.

"Yeah," Clarkent said in a half-growl, frustrated by the way Gawain was acting like a prancing pony, "I'm scared that I'll get close enough to embarrass you and show that you hit like a *girl*!"

There was a flicker of something across Gawain's face, and then the boy shot forward like lightning, shoving his wooden sword into Clarkent's stomach and knocking him backward to the ground with the wind knocked out of him.

"Ow," Clarkent said weakly, staring upward at the clouds, his back hurting from where he'd fallen on a rock, his sword resting on the grass beside him.

Gawain's face appeared above him. He placed his wooden sword on one of Clarkent's shoulders and then the other and said, "I dub thee 'Sir Failsalot.'"

One of Clarkent's hands flashed forward and hit Gawain behind his knees, sending him crumpling to the ground, his head and one of his arms landing on Clarkent's stomach.

This time, it was both of them that said "ow."

But Clarkent quickly recovered, not wanting his friend to have the last word. He reached a hand out to grab the wooden sword beside him and awkwardly touch Gawain's shoulders with it. "And I dub you," Clarkent said with a smirk, "'Sir Fallsalot.'"

***

Loisette stared at Clarkent from her position on his stomach, her annoyance fighting with her amusement.

They'd been practicing intensely for a while, and Clarkent's hair was coated in a thin layer of sweat. It was plastered against his forehead, and he moved his left hand up to wipe away some of the perspiration.

There was a strange part of Loisette that wanted to reach out and run her fingers through his hair, making it less clumpy. He often had bits of hay or dirt in the dark strands, and though it was charming in a way, she often found herself wanting to touch it--to fix the mess, she told herself.

"You gonna get off me yet?" he asked her, his voice slightly amused.

Her breath caught in her throat--she wasn't sure why--and she pressed her hand against his chest to help push herself up, trying not to think about the musculature there. Catherine was especially attracted to sweaty males, and Loisette suspected that she would have been ogling the stableboy if she'd been there. But there was nothing to ogle, Loisette told herself. It was just Clarkent.

They both got to their feet and picked up their wooden weapons.

"I think I'm done for today," Clarkent told her, stretching. "Are you going to the Children's Day Festival tomorrow?"

She wiped her perspiring palms on her breeches. "I haven't really thought about it."

"You should go with me," he said. "It's one of the best festivals." His smile was warm and hopeful, and she suddenly didn't want to disappoint him.

"All right," she said. "I'll go."

"Great!" he said. "You'll enjoy the festival. I'm sure of it."

***

The next day, Loisette sat in her room with Catherine for a little while, waiting for the right time to slip away. The lady-in-waiting was talking about--and this came as no surprise--the opposite sex.

"Didn't Patrik look nice the other day?" Catherine asked, the expression on her face obviously indicating that she was daydreaming about the archer.

Loisette raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what it is with you and sweaty men."

Catherine grinned. "Come on, Your Highness. You can't tell me the thought of a man working hard and sweating up a storm doesn't make you the least bit excited?"

Loisette turned away as her cheeks became a slight shade of pink. The image of a sweaty Clarkent had come to her mind--the sheen on his face, the clumping of his dark hair, the bulging of his glistening arm muscles as he made a thrust with his sword ...

She cleared her throat, pulling her thoughts away from that unbidden picture and the sudden racing of her heart, and declared, "No."

"Fine," Catherine said, the tone of her voice causing Loisette to look at her in suspicion. "I guess you're more attracted to Nobles, then. They don't sweat--that would be too undignified for them." She leaned closer to Loisette. "Maybe the Duke of Lutheria is more your style. He's pretty cute with those curls of his."

"Alexander?" Loisette said with a frown. "He's my cousin."

"Plenty of Nobles marry their cousins," returned Catherine. "And with a cousin like that, who could blame you? Now, *that* would be a family line I wouldn't mind carrying on."

Loisette shook her head. "He's not really my type."

"Ha! Then your type *is* the sweaty male!" Catherine crowed in triumph.

"I didn't say that!"

Her lady-in-waiting grinned. "You didn't have to. Honestly, Your Highness, you need to learn to lie a little better."

Loisette just sighed and decided to ignore her for a little bit.

***

Loisette finally slipped away from Catherine and spun into her Gawain clothes. It had gotten easier to sneak out. Catherine no longer attempted to find her when she disappeared (probably chalking it up to Loisette wanting to meet with *boys*), so Loisette only had to worry about changing without being noticed.

As she walked through the halls of the castle to go outside, she thought about her improvements in communicating with animals. She was getting really good at it--it didn't cost her much effort at all now. She practiced a lot with Robert Bigmouth, but he usually just thought images of food at her, so she tried to talk with other animals when she could. She also practiced some with High Flyer, but she only did that while in her princess clothes ... and while Catherine wasn't paying very much attention. But her most interesting conversations happened with James.

For a bird, James was a great conversationalist. He would ask her questions and listen intently to her answers. Sometimes, he seemed a little bit like an eager puppy, but that was fine—it was even kind of cute. But though James talked with her when he could, he was always needing to leave to do something or other for Peri. Loisette wasn't sure if James was spying or sending messages to people, but whatever it was, neither he nor Peri seemed inclined to tell her. Still, it didn't really matter.

Loisette was happy.

It was strange to realize it, but it was true. Things seemed to be going right. Catherine was a friend she could be ... well, a *girl* with, and Clarkent was someone she could trust to treat her as a playmate and equal (at least, when she was in her Gawain outfit). Her life wasn't perfect by any means--especially not when she thought about her father or began considering the scary prospect of one day being queen--but she was happier than she had thought she could be.

And Clarkent had been right when he had said she would enjoy the festival. She walked around the town with him, dodging merry passersby and giggling children. There were streamers and games and free snacks everywhere, and she was glad that this was something the crown did for the people. The day seemed glorious.

Clarkent grabbed a small cake and handed it to her before getting one for himself. "There," he said with a smile. "Considering how many times you brought me sweets, we may not be even, but it's a small step toward paying you back." He grinned at her, happy as a lark.

The mood of Children's Day seemed to be infectious, and she smiled right back at him before taking a big bite out of her cake. It was delicious ... and flaky.

He laughed as she got bits of the sweet all over her chin. "Where'd you learn how to eat? A barn?"

She tried to hold back her laughter and simply give him a glare, but she failed on both accounts. If he only knew where exactly she had learned to eat! Then he would really have been surprised!

He stopped at a game area and asked her, "Want to play?"

She looked and saw that the game involved throwing horseshoes and trying to get them to land around a stake. "You play," she told him. "I'll watch." She had never played the game before, and she didn't want to lose, so she preferred to sit it out. She wouldn't admit that reason to him, however.

Clarkent soon began the game, playing against a few other children--all of them younger than him but still determined to win. Loisette joined the other children in heckling Clarkent whenever it was his turn to throw, and he must have rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue a dozen times by the time the game was halfway through.

"You call that a throw?" Loisette teased. "You'd think you were trying to toss a horse rather than one of its shoes!"

"I'd like to see you do any better, Gawain," he muttered, his aim thrown off as one of the children made a rude noise. But he laughed good-naturedly as his horseshoe missed the stake yet again. He was barely getting any points from having a horseshoe touch the stake, much less getting a ringer from encircling it.

When at last Clarkent had lost miserably, Loisette grinned at him and said, "Awww. Did Clarkent get beaten by a bunch of little kids?"

"Oh, shut up," he muttered.

One of the children grinned up at him. "Better luck next time!" Then she ran off shrieking.

***

Clarkent hadn't expected to be beaten so horribly, but he wasn't too upset about it. Still, he couldn't help but tell Gawain in a mock-annoyed tone, "It would have been a lot easier to concentrate without you badgering me."

"Easier, yes," Gawain admitted. "But not as much fun!"

"Bah," grumbled Clarkent. As they passed by a tavern, he was pleased to see that he could read the words on its sign--*The Golden Chimera*. Gawain had been continuing the reading lessons, and while they tended to make Clarkent feel like an idiot, he was able to read better than he once had. And he was glad for it.

When they were finally finished with the Children's Day activities, they decided to return to the stable, but something drew their attention before they had completely left the town proper.

In front of them was a large bush ... There was nothing unusual in that ... but this one was shaking slightly.

Clarkent made a motion for Gawain to stay where he was, and then he crept forward. "Is someone there?" he asked cautiously.

There was a gasp inside the bush, but no one said anything. Taking in a deep breath and praying this wasn't the lair of some hideous beast, Clarkent stepped forward and parted some of the branches.

A girl about nine or ten years of age was hiding inside the bush. Her face was streaked with tears, and her wide eyes spoke volumes for her terror. "Please, don't make me go," she begged.

"What are you talking about?" he asked in confusion.

Gawain came up beside him and peered in. "Who are you?"

"My n-name's Ayma," she said with a sniffle. "I work as--as a clothes washer."

"For a Noble?" Clarkent asked gently.

"Y-yes," she said.

"You should go back," Gawain told her, obviously not understanding the situation well. "Why are you hiding in this bush?"

"No!" the runaway exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears. "You can't make me go back. *Please*."

"Why don't you want to go back?" Gawain queried.

"The wife of the--the Noble I was Assigned to, she ... she whips me whenever I mess up."

Clarkent's expression became grim. This girl--who had apparently already been in a precarious situation--had put herself in more trouble by running away. Assigned children who ran away were punished, with the intensity of the punishment according to the number of times it had happened. Some Nobles were understanding the first few times children ran away and encouraged leniency, but if the Nobles this girl was supposed to serve were already beating her, then the chance was slim that everything would be okay when she returned.

"Hold on just a second," he told the runaway, letting the branches fall back into their natural position. He turned to Gawain. "She can't go back," he said firmly.

The other boy seemed surprised. "What do you mean? She has to. She was Assigned to--"

"It doesn't matter that she was Assigned to them--"

"Clarkent, it's the *Law*--"

"I don't care!" Clarkent said, almost shouting. He wanted to calm down, but he couldn't. "The Assigning is wrong. Don't you realize that? Don't you see how awful it is? How is it fair to allow a child to see family only once a year? How is it fair to leave a girl with someone who treats her like an animal? She will have no say in her own life if she goes back to those Nobles—she will be taught the skills that she was *Assigned*. And when she's an adult, that's all she'll know. She'll be trapped in something that brings back bad memories, and she will be covered in emotional scars--and probably physical ones, too--that--"

Gawain cut in, "That Assigning helps the people--"

"Oh, yes, it *helps* the people," Clarkent said sarcastically. "It helps to keep them poor--it traps them in lives they didn't choose."

Gawain bit his lip. "It keeps older children from starving--"

"Would you rather starve with family or be beaten without them?" Clarkent was practically looming over his friend in his anger. "It's not right to let a child feel so alone. *Nobles* get to see their families as often as they like--"

"Just because Nobles *can* see their families doesn't mean they *do*," Gawain returned. "They have responsibilities--"

"Oh, yes, they're *so* busy drinking their wine and eating their expensive food," Clarkent growled. "How do they ever find time to--"

"They have to run estates," Gawain jumped in furiously, "and they have to help keep the peace--"

"Isn't it royalty that helps start wars in the first place? Do you think the *people* care about *war*?"

"War means putting people to work--"

"Making swords and armor and taking care of horses, yes, I know. But what about all the death?"

Gawain looked away. "I'm not saying war is right--"

"If you cared about people, then you would agree that the *Assigning* is *wrong*," Clarkent stated vehemently.

Gawain seemed hurt. "I *do* care about people--"

"Then prove it!" Clarkent spat. "Question the lies you've been fed! Think about how maybe *tradition* and the *Law* aren't always right!"

Gawain shook his head with a glare. "You're impossible."

"No," he said, seething. "I'm right."

His breathing heavy due to anger, Clarkent watched as Gawain walked away. Then he turned his attention back to the bush. Gently, he peeled back the branches once more, knowing the girl must have been terrified by what she had heard. "We're going to find Peregrine the White," he told her softly. "He'll help us."

***

What Loisette hated most about her argument with Clarkent was the nagging feeling that he *was* right, just as he had said. She had felt the need to defend the Assigning because it was a part of their society and was supported by her father, and she had gotten caught up in the heat of the argument without truly thinking about what Clarkent was telling her.

When she reached the castle, she spun out of her Gawain clothes. But she didn't go to her room. She kept thinking of that terrified girl who had been so desperate she had hidden herself away in a bush on what was supposed to be a merry holiday.

In the hallway, she came across Herbie, who smiled at her. "Why, hello, Your Highness."

"Hi," she murmured back. He had always been nice to her, and she liked him--even if his tutoring lessons *were* sometimes boring--but his presence couldn't make her feel better today.

"We've got a new book about the Barbarian Kingdom in the library," he told her eagerly. "I think you might like it."

She gave the librarian a small smile, though she wasn't feeling it. "That's good." She hesitated for a second and then asked, "What do you think of the Assigning?"

"I think it's a bit barbaric myself," he said. Then his eyes widened. "Which is not to say that there are not some benefits to it," he said hurriedly. "I just believe there might be better ways to handle staffing the castle, Your Highness."

Loisette nodded. "Thanks, Herbie," she told him. And then she began walking away, her thoughts still on that girl.

The structure of their society had been built around the Assigning ... but that didn't mean it couldn't be changed. Her father was the *king* of Metropolita, for crying out loud! He could do something, couldn't he?

She knew in her heart it was pointless to go, but she found her feet carrying her to her father's chamber. Taking in a deep breath to calm herself, she stood up straight and knocked.

He opened the door, looking weary and sorrowful, and she knew he had been staring at her mother's picture again, and it made her really pity him.

"What is it, Princess?" he asked her, speaking without much energy.

She didn't waste any time cutting to the chase. "I want to talk about the Assigning, Daddy."

His eyebrows curved inward slightly. "What about it, Princess?"

She faltered a little but then pushed ahead. "It's wrong, Daddy. It hurts a lot of people, and it puts a lot of people in bad situations. It isn't fair for them to be away from their families or have their lives completely decided for them." Her heart ached as she thought of Clarkent passionately making these points, and she felt guilt flare up for the way she had argued with him. But her automatic response had been to make a heated defense--she rarely looked before she leapt--and she simply hadn't been able to stop herself.

"I know it's wrong," her father said in a soft voice, and she sharply lifted her eyes up to meet his. "It isn't fair to the people at all. But I can't do anything about it, Princess. The Nobles support it, and I can't go against them. I'm sorry."

Loisette shook her head, a sudden wave of disgust coming over her for the man in front of her. "You know it's wrong but won't do anything?" Her lips became thin. "You're a coward." Years ago, she wouldn't have dreamed of telling him something like that, and it surprised her a little.

But what surprised her even more was his sad reply: "Maybe I am."

***

When Gawain entered the stable, Clarkent was grooming Penelope Grace. He was so upset that it was taking all his effort not to brush so hard that it hurt the horse. Clarkent's eyes lifted briefly and then fell back to his task. He heard the younger boy move closer.

Gruffly, Clarkent said, "Peri found a new home for her." Clarkent had wondered where a place was that she could go which wouldn't raise suspicions, but Peri had said it was best not to ask where, so Clarkent hadn't pried for more details.

Clarkent thought maybe Gawain was turning to leave when he heard a soft voice say, "I'm sorry, Clarkent. I was wrong."

He looked up in surprise and saw the saddest and most repentant expression on his friend's face. His frustrations suddenly melted away.

"That's all right," Clarkent mumbled thickly.

Gawain's voice was almost mouselike in its volume when he asked, "Friends still?"

Clarkent gave him a gentle smile and then stepped forward and hugged him tightly. "Friends," he said.

***

Chapter 15: With This Cup, the Kingdom Comes

A light rapping at the door caused Samuel to turn his head. He was sitting in his room and gazing at the painting of his wife. The candle beside him flickered, moving light and shadow across the kind face that was frozen in time. For a second, his heart stopped--had her chin just moved?--but then he shook himself from his reverie.

It was with great effort that Samuel got to his feet. It was late, and he had not been expecting any interruptions. He hadn't gotten much sleep the past few years, and it was wearing on him, draining his energy and slowing his steps. The burden of regret and sorrow was growing heavier every minute of every day, and part of him was beginning to wonder how he continued to draw breath.

He opened the door with a creak and gave a slight smile to the man standing there. A part of him registered that the guards normally stationed outside his door were nowhere in sight, but he didn't pause to think about it, not caring about their absence. "Alexander," he said with as much warmth as he could muster considering the time of night and the depressed thoughts weighing down on him. "Please come in."

The younger man was wearing white gloves and carrying a goblet much like that used for communion, and he did as he was asked after giving a slight bow.

Samuel shut the door and turned to his cousin. "What do you need, Alexander?" The other man normally did not pay him late visits. They saw each other frequently, and Alexander had served as a counselor of sorts to him for years. Samuel had been immensely grateful for the younger man's assistance—through Alexander, Samuel learned most of what he needed to know about what was happening in the castle. Not having several different sources made it so much easier for Samuel, who was less inclined than ever to talk with people.

Alexander's eyes rose to take in the painting, and Samuel's gaze followed his. "Queen Ellena was a lovely woman," commented the younger man softly. "Her daughter is beginning to take after her ... " With a small smile, Alexander turned back toward Samuel. "I thought you would like a glass of wine, Your Majesty."

Samuel gave the barest of smiles. "Thank you, Alexander." He took the cup from his cousin and held it up to his lips. "It was kind of you to think of me. I am afraid I have been brooding too much these days." He tilted the cup and felt the dark liquid slide coolly into his mouth and down his throat. "Ellena always did like a good glass of--" He cut off, making a choking sound. "Alexander?" he coughed in confusion. "What--" And then he collapsed to his knees, the goblet falling to the ground beside him. Wine spilled out and darkened the floor, spreading like blood leaking from a wound.

As Samuel turned his eyes upward to stare at Alexander's cold face, he wondered if he would finally get to see his wife again--or if his sins were such that he would never even be able to look upon her likeness again. As the darkness of death claimed him, he threw one last prayer heavenward.

***

Alexander scrubbed the floor meticulously, removing all traces of wine. He also cleaned off the dead king and placed him in his bed with the covers over him. The poison Alexander had used was odorless and untraceable--no one would ever find proof that the king, whose health had deteriorated since the death of his wife, had not died naturally.

When he finally slipped out of the room and into the hall, knowing the guards that had been called away would be back soon, he allowed himself a slight smile. He glided through the halls like a ghost, cautious to make no noise, only to stop suddenly at the appearance of a man in unusual black robes with ruffles and buttons.

The dark-haired stranger's eyes were gleaming with something much like glee. "I know what you did," the man said, wasting no time.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alexander said shortly. His breath caught in his chest, but he betrayed no outward signs of guilt as he tried to pass around this stranger.

"I won't tell anyone," the man assured him with a smile. He held up a hand in a weird sign. "Wizard's honor."

"Leave me alone," Alexander gritted. He needed to leave the castle. He couldn't be caught there.

But the man refused to budge, even going so far as to spread out his arms. "All I ask is one teensy little favor. I want to be your court magician."

"I refuse to be blackmailed," Alexander hissed, knowing there was no further point in denying what had happened. This man knew what had happened, but he would never be able to prove it. "I shall choose my own councilors, and *you* will never be one of them." Finally, he managed to push past the insufferable man, feeling the hands of time chasing after him.

"Don't you think it unwise to upset a magician?" the man called quietly after him. "One day, you *will* regret this."

"Magicians cannot kill directly with magic, lest they lose their powers," returned Alexander. "I think I'm safe." And then he was gone, hurrying away to get out of the castle before the king's death was discovered.

***

When Loisette woke to someone's hands shaking her shoulders, she glanced upward in a fog, having been caught in the midst of a dream. "Mom?" she whispered.

But then the haze cleared, and she realized who it was looking down at her, and she corrected herself as she sat up: "Aliss? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Loisette," the older woman said, her voice shaky. Her eyes were filling with tears. "Your father--he's ... he's dead."

"Wh-what?" Loisette gasped. Her chest was constricting, and she couldn't breathe. "What?" she repeated in shock, horror, disbelief. This was all just part of her dream. It had to be.

"Loisette, I'm so sorry," Aliss whispered, her lips bunched up together in sorrow.

Loisette was like a bridge shivering under the onslaught of a storm as she stared at Aliss. And then the foundations collapsed inward, and she fell forward into her nanny's bosom, wailing like a banshee lost in a turbulent sea. Loisette's sobs rose and fell like crashing waves, and Aliss hugged her so tightly against herself that the princess would probably have bruises later from the pressure of her fingers.

But all that mattered to Loisette in that dark moment was that her father was gone--and she would never be able to hear him say, "I love you, Loisette."

Her heart had cracked in two.

***

When the young girl finally cried herself to sleep, Aliss slipped out of the room. It was still dark out, and not even the early-rising caretakers of the stable had risen. Muttering calming words, she saddled Penelope Grace--wanting a connection of sorts with the deceased Queen Ellena--and rode out to a cottage in the middle of the woods. Dismounting, she hurried over to the door and knocked loudly.

It was a sleepy Peregrine the White who opened the door, though he snapped awake on seeing her face. "What is it?" he asked her.

"I have terrible news," she said grimly.

He swallowed, worry splashed all over his face. "It's not Clarkent, is it?" The fear and dread in his voice were almost tangible.

She shook her head. "No. It's the king."

Peri turned away from her, knowing what she meant immediately. "He's dead." He brought his eyes back to hers, his face darkening. "That means the next in line to the throne after the princess is--"

Aliss nodded. "Yes. Alexander."

***

The next day, Alexander sat on the throne, pleased as a cat sipping cream.

Nobody had been able to come up with any proof as to what had caused the king's death ... and Tempos had been kind enough to supply Alexander with an alibi. As a result, Alexander was now the Regent of Metropolita. The King's Council had panicked during the night and given him the position almost immediately. The pleasure he felt was so great as to be indescribable.

When the princess came of age, she would become queen, of course, thereby taking the position of power away from him. But that would be a while yet, as she was only fourteen. And besides—he intended to make her ascension work to his advantage. When she turned seventeen, it would be something to celebrate rather than curse ... for then he would be able to marry her and solidify his grip on the throne.

He had considered killing her as well, of course, but her death coupled with her father's would put him directly under suspicion, and he didn't want that. It didn't matter anyway. He could be patient enough to wait a few years to marry her while he reigned alone. She was certainly growing up to be as beautiful as her mother had been, and a having a pretty little thing to hang on his arm would suit him just fine.

Alexander had a slight smile on his face when his brother walked in to the throne room. The room was empty apart from them, the guards having been instructed to wait just outside the two great doors.

As the armor-wearing Tempos came closer and got a good look at Alexander's Regent garb, he commented, "You look as ridiculous as a cat wearing shoes."

But Alexander didn't allow his brother's comment to irk him. Instead, he told him, "You had better change your tune if you wish to be my tilting champion."

With obvious sarcasm, Tempos said, "You are too kind, brother. That's just what I always wanted."

Alexander gave him a fragile smile. Their relationship was one of constant balance. While they were consistently helping one another out in precarious situations, each was always watching for the fatal chink in the other's armor. It would not be enough to simply hurt a reputation. No. When one of the brothers struck, it would be to utterly destroy his kinsman.

Seeing Alexander lost in thought, Tempos asked, "Planning your wedding to the princess already? Aren't you supposed to be friends first before you can be lovers?"

Alexander narrowed his eyes. Sometimes, they thought too much alike.

"Come, brother," Tempos said. "You can't fool me. I know your plan--remember?" He smirked. "We *are* brothers, after all. Our hearts will beat in time until one of them finally stops."

The two brothers stared at each other, unhidden menace behind their gazes. Each intended to be the one to stop the other's heart. But only time would tell who the winner would be.

***

In the morning, Loisette went to the stable after throwing on a dress with help from Catherine. The lady-in-waiting had attempted to come after her, but Loisette had told her to stay. She wanted to go to the stable, and she didn't need Catherine with her. Her father was dead--what did it matter if she went to the stable alone? He couldn't ... couldn't yell at her.

She walked into the stable, and there was Clarkent, and he turned to look at her, and she trembled in place. And then, after she gave him a mere look, he was rushing toward her, and he took her in his arms, and she was pressed up against him, crying, crying so hard, "My father's dead; my father's dead."

He squeezed her against him, his cheek against her hair as she sobbed. He gently kissed the top of her head, and she shook like a tender sapling in the wind.

"I'm sorry, Lois," he whispered into her hair. His unexpected use of a truncated version of her name filled her with a strange warmth amid all the coldness of reality, and she wished he would repeat it. "I'm so sorry."

In his arms, she felt like maybe everything would be all right someday, like maybe her father wasn't dead. But he was dead, she knew he was dead, and he wouldn't come back. But maybe her father would be with her mother; maybe he would be happy. Maybe the world wasn't ending; maybe there was still hope for happiness. But her father was *gone*, gone forever, and all her hopes had been dashed into nothings. There would be no redemption for her father; he would never hug her against him and tell her how proud he was of her. Dead; dead. Gone. *Forever*.

She let out another harsh sob. It hurt so much when hope had to die.

***

Alexander finally learned from his sources at the castle where the princess was, and the knowledge filled him with rage. He wanted to comfort the princess himself. For someone to get there before him ...

He walked through the entrance of the Riding Stable, his eyes hard as they fell upon the princess embracing a stableboy. The girl's lady-in-waiting was nowhere in sight, and Alexander had to take a second to calm his temper.

The stableboy happened to glance up and see him, and then the boy stiffened, though he didn't remove his arms from around the princess. But Princess Loisette must have felt the change in his bearing, as she turned and finally looked at Alexander.

The Regent consciously softened his expression and approached her after bowing. "Someone told me you were here, Your Highness," he said softly, trying to inject sympathy into his voice. "I am so sorry to hear about your father." He dropped his eyes to the ground. "I only hope that I--as Regent--can be as good a ruler as he was."

The princess gave a slight nod, her bottom lip trembling. Wanting to escort her away from this place, Alexander reached out an arm for her to hook hers into. "Please, Your Highness, let me take you back to your room. You must be tired." He could practically feel the stableboy's glare, but he gave the peasant no attention.

She hesitantly took his arm and began walking forward with him. But then she paused with startling abruptness and turned. "I want to see my horse, Alexander," she said in a quiet but firm voice, and she pulled away from him.

***

As the princess walked away from the man who must have been the new Regent, Clarkent watched her. She moved up to High Flyer and began petting him, murmuring quiet words to him and soon pressing her forehead against his velvety nose.

Clarkent refocused his attention on the Regent, who was obviously enraged by the princess's choice to stay. Clarkent locked eyes with him, meeting the black fury there unflinchingly.

And then Regent Alexander turned on his heel and left the stable, his displeasure as obvious as if he had shouted it.

Clarkent watched as Princess Loisette whispered to High Flyer. He wanted to talk to her--to hold her and comfort her again--but she had obviously shut herself off from him, and it was best that he give her the space she appeared to be needing. And so, he got back to work.

But he continued to watch her carefully, ready to run to her if she gave him the slightest indication that what she needed was him.

***

The funeral was a bleak occasion.

Black permeated the area, suffocating those who grieved. At one point, Loisette, desperate for something to comfort her, caught herself looking for Clarkent. But then she remembered that only Nobles were allowed at the funeral, and it saddened her. She could only console herself by remembering that at least she had Catherine at her side.

After Alexander gave his words for the passing of the monarch--her eyes were blurry, and there was a dull pounding in her ears, and she couldn't focus on what he had said--he came to stand beside her. He attempted to comfort her, but she simply felt like running away from him. There was something about him that she didn't care for, though she was conflicted about him, as she was grateful for his kindness even while she wanted to reject him whenever he reached out to her.

As she watched her father's funeral pyre go up in flames, she found herself wishing that she could be back in Clarkent's arms, sobbing into his chest ... not watching as her father's body burned in front a group of people who could care less about what Loisette was feeling. Clarkent could truly sympathize with her--no one at the funeral could.

***

Chapter 16: How to Don a Knight in the Day

A few days after the funeral, Loisette went back to the stable with Catherine. Gawain hadn't been to visit Clarkent since her father died, and the stableboy was probably wondering where his friend was, but Loisette wanted to visit him as herself first.

He was removing stones from a horse's foot when she went inside. Catherine gave her some space. If it hadn't been for her father's death, Loisette might have worried about what her lady-in-waiting thought, but it just didn't seem important. She walked up to the stableboy, and he nearly dropped his horse hoof in surprise when he saw her. He bowed quickly and stuttered, "Y-Your Highness."

She gave him a slight smile. There was a small part of her that was sad at the formality that existed between them when she was in a dress, but she pushed the thought away. He had been there for her when she needed him, and she wanted to let him know she appreciated it. "Thank you for--" She swallowed. "For--for you know ... "

He nodded in understanding, averting his eyes from her. "Anytime, Your Highness."

As she looked at him, she realized that the feelings of distance between them were in part her fault. She had been so busy visiting him as Gawain that she had rarely visited him as herself. But it was for the best. She didn't want gossip around the castle to clutter any of their time together.

"We would like to ride," she said softly, hating that she had to create a visible excuse for her and Catherine to be at the stable.

He gave a small nod and prepared their horses.

And then Loisette and Catherine were riding the horses away from the stable. The pain of her father's death was still fresh in Loisette's mind, and she wished she could turn back and bury herself once more in Clarkent's arms. But nothing could erase the fact that her father was dead. It would take time for the painful throbbing of the loss to go away. She suspected her time with Clarkent as Gawain would go a long way toward making the hurt go away, and she resolved to make some time the next day to resume her play schedule with Clarkent. After all, she occasionally won their mock sword-fights or their occasional sparring matches. Maybe all she needed to do was kick a boy's butt to feel better.

But she was simply trying to fool herself. Grief would not be dismissed so easily.

***

Loisette did go visit Clarkent as Gawain the next day. He brightened up upon seeing her, and it made her feel a tiny bit better. It had taken some effort to convince herself to go, but now that she had, she was glad for it.

"Gawain," he said, "where have you been?"

"Worried about me?" she teased, though the effort was half-hearted.

"A little," he admitted.

"I've been ... busy with the funeral, you know?"

Clarkent nodded. "The kitchen staff probably had a lot of funeral preparations to deal with, huh?"

"Yeah," Loisette whispered. She could barely remember the food herself, but she knew it had been there. "It's ... it's sad that the king died." She fought to keep herself from crying. She couldn't fall apart. Not as Gawain.

"I know," Clarkent agreed. "I ... feel sorry for the princess."

She looked down at her hands. "You do?"

"She's all alone in the world now," he said softly. "Do you ... do you think she has many friends?"

She managed a smile. "I'm sure she has great friends."

"I hope so," he said sincerely.

She gave a hint of a nod to show she'd heard him. Though being with him did improve her mood a little, she didn't think she could conjure up the energy to have a mock sword-fight with him. She would leave the butt-kicking for another day.

***

As time went by, the reign of Regent Alexander proved itself to be a cruel one. Though he always spoke to his subjects with a kind smile on his face, injustices flourished under his rule as the months passed by.

Of special interest to Alexander was the rampant corruption spreading throughout the Nobility at his encouragement. Nobles had learned quickly that a gesture of "allegiance" here or a blind eye there could lead to reaping royal rewards. But there was one fly in the ointment.

"My overtures of friendship toward her have been carefully crafted, but I seem to be making no progress," Alexander growled. "The princess treats me as distantly as ever." Ever since her father had died, she had been especially withdrawn. He had told his spies to keep a careful eye on the stable, but she rarely went back there. And when she did, it was with her lady-in-waiting. He could see no reason why she was keeping herself detached from him like this.

Tempos gave a dry chuckle. "Ah, brother. People are too impatient nowadays. Their birds just don't lay eggs fast enough. And when they cut them open, they find out all the gold's gone. You have to learn to wait until your eggs have been laid to count them." His eyes glinted. "Just make sure you don't carry them all in one basket." Then he gave a cold laugh with no real mirth in it.

Alexander gave his brother a dour look. "Leave me, Tempos."

"Gladly," Tempos returned, giving a mock bow. "You're boring when you're angry anyway."

***

The sixteen-year-old Clarkent was pacing outside in front of Peri and James. He was upset, and he couldn't stand still. "Peri, the crime and the high taxes and the corrupt Nobles--all this has to stop. The Regent is poisoning our country. We have to do something about this!" Princess Loisette's father had never been active in fighting evil--but at least he hadn't been active in promoting it either. Regent Alexander had gone too far. Something needed to be done before the kingdom completely fell apart.

"And what exactly would you like to do?" the magician asked him. The bird on his shoulder made a small noise.

Clarkent faltered. He hadn't really thought that far ahead ... But suddenly, an idea sprang to mind. "Remember ... remember how I thought you were two different people? Well, what if I *was* two different people?"

Peri frowned. "What do you mean, son?"

"Remember when you told me the people needed a beacon of hope?" Clarkent said slowly. "Well, now ... they need it more than ever. What if--what if I were to disguise myself as a knight and go around giving the people hope ... protecting them from those who are hurting them?"

A big smile broke out across Peri's face. "I think that's a great idea, Clarkent. To show my support, I'll even get you some armor and a horse."

Clarkent's cheeks turned red. He hadn't really thought about those details either. But he shook his head. "Peri, I couldn't accept such expensive gifts--"

"I insist," Peri told him with a smile. "A knight has to have armor and a good horse and a good weapon. You've already got the sword, so at least you're partway there already." But he quickly became more serious. "You know this is going to be dangerous, son, don't you?"

Clarkent swallowed and nodded resolutely. "Yes, I do. But I've been training for this--it's something I have to do."

"All right," Peri said softly. "There's one last thing that I can do for you." Clarkent looked at him inquisitively, and he explained, "You'll need a way to know when someone's in trouble. That's where James will come in."

"Rep rep," the bird said cheerfully.

"You'll never see a faster animal than a Peregrine Falcon," Peri told him. "You can work out a system of cues with James, and he can come find you and guide you when there's trouble."

Clarkent looked at James and smiled. "I'd like that."

"Repreprep," the bird chattered back.

***

A few days later, Clarkent's head was absolutely buzzing with thoughts of finally being able to *do* something. When Peri came to him in the evening, Clarkent was feeling something akin to impatience.

"Follow me," Peri instructed him, and Clarkent willingly obliged the older man.

Peri took him to the nearby royal forest. Not far into the forest, Peri stopped beside a giant rock with a few trees in front of it. "Reveal," he said softly.

The trees and rock shimmered, revealing in their midst the entrance of a cave. Clarkent stepped forward in amazement. "Was that--"

"Magic," Peri confirmed with a smile. "The code word is 'Reveal.' The spell isn't very strong, and it might not fool someone who is truly dedicated to searching for hiding spots, but I don't think you'll have any problems. When you are inside or when you leave, make sure to say, 'Conceal.' That will re-seal the spell."

Clarkent nodded, following Peri forward into the cave, but not able to really see around him. The older man muttered, "Conceal," and then they were cut off from what little light was coming in from the forest. There was a bright flash, and Clarkent saw that Peri had lit a torch which he'd grabbed from the wall. The magician stepped aside, and finally Clarkent was able to see more of the cave.

Standing by the right cavern wall was a great black destrier. The majestic beast stared at him with dark and intelligent eyes, and Clarkent found himself stepping forward, mesmerized.

"Meet your new mount," Peri said behind him. "He is from Metropolita's sister kingdom."

The words were enough to jolt Clarkent back to awareness, and he stopped just short of touching the horse. Turning, he shook his head. "I can't accept this, Peri," he said in a small voice. "This is--this is too much." Destriers were only owned by wealthy knights. He wasn't even a real knight--he wasn't worthy of such a creature.

"Nonsense," the older man said in a gruff voice. "You need a good horse if you're going to save anyone. And besides--I'm doing this for the good of Metropolita just as you are."

Clarkent trembled in indecision. He moved even closer to the horse, running his hands down the muscles of the beast's neck. "What's his name?" he asked quietly.

"You can name him whatever you'd like," Peri told him.

Clarkent's eyes widened. He'd never been allowed to name a horse before. But if he named the horse, then it would be as good as accepting him. He glanced back to Peri with a pained expression. "This was too much, Peri ... "

"If anything, it wasn't enough," the man said, causing Clarkent to frown in confusion. "He's yours, Clarkent. He knows it himself."

Clarkent started as the horse nudged him with a jet-black nose. Smiling, he began to pet the animal's forehead. In the dim light of the torch, the horse looked almost like a ghost, and Clarkent's expression broke out into a grin as he realized what name he wanted. "I'm going to call you Phantom," he said softly.

The horse jerked his head a little, as if acknowledging what Clarkent had said, and the boy chuckled to himself.

"I've told him to only respond to your signals--in case the two of you are ever separated. But I don't expect you to have any problems with him. He is reliable and fearless--but he must be respected if you are to command his respect."

Clarkent nodded and stared calmly at the horse. "Phantom, my name is Clarkent. I promise to take care of you as best as I can."

It was like a veil of solemnity had come down over the horse, and Clarkent almost shivered at Phantom's unflinching gaze. And then, the horse slowly lowered his head ... and began nibbling at Clarkent's hair.

Clarkent laughed and swatted gently at the horse. "Get out of my hair," he told him with a chuckle.

"I guess Phantom likes you already," Peri commented dryly.

But Clarkent was too busy trying to keep the horse's lips away from his hair to respond. Finally, the boy ducked away from the horse, and his eyes fell on something on the other side of the cave. There was a well-crafted saddle and blanket for Phantom, but beside it was something even more interesting--a full suit of black armor and a plain silver shield.

Clarkent turned to Peri, who told him, "The armor and shield are yours, son."

Clarkent looked at the armor with a sense of unease. "Black armor?" he asked, wrinkling his brow. He noticed there was even black mail with the armor.

"It sends a necessary message," Peri told him. "A black knight holds allegiance to no lord--just as you will swear fealty to no Noble."

Clarkent nodded, but he couldn't help but remember the princess's story about a black knight. The black knight she had told about had been the cause of Gareth's death. Was this a good idea?

He glanced at Phantom, whose nose was now deep in a bucket of oats. With the horse and the sword and the armor and James's guidance, he could help the people. He knew he could. But what if they feared him? Could he still help them then?

He took in a deep breath. He had to try. That was all there was to it. "All right," he said quietly. "I'm going to do this."

"Great," Peri said warmly, as if he had understood Clarkent's mental battle. "Now, you need to practice putting the armor on and wearing it around. It's not exactly easy ... "

But Clarkent had heard stories about how heavy the armor was and how difficult it was to learn to move in it, and he was ready. "Just teach me how to put it on, and I'll figure out the rest."

Peri smiled. "Very well."

***

Clarkent stood there in his fifty pounds of armor, wondering how in the world he was going to walk, much less get on the horse. "Umm, this isn't as easy as I thought ... "

Peri let out a bark of laughter. "I thought you would figure out the rest once you finally got it on?"

"Well, I might have been a little optimistic," Clarkent admitted. He took a step forward, the metal boots clinking against the ground. "I feel like a metal monster."

Chuckling, Peri told him, "Well, you look impressive, son, even if it feels a little awkward. Just walk around for a while to become accustomed to the weight. We can work on the logistics of getting you on a horse and sword-fighting later."

Clarkent groaned. "I forgot all about swinging a sword around. How do knights *do* this?"

"With a lot of practice," Peri told him. "I just hope you aren't expecting to get a lot of sleep these next few weeks."

Clarkent brought a metal head up to his visor and lifted it. "I guess I've been exercising for a reason."

"That's right," Peri said with a smile. "Keep it positive."

"Well, I'm *positive* this armor is more trouble than it's worth," the boy grumbled.

"And I'm *positive* it will keep you from dying when you're out there trying to save lives. Just be glad I didn't get you a sixty-pound set of armor."

"I guess Phantom's getting the worst end of this deal, huh?" Clarkent said, glancing at the horse.

"Just make sure you exercise him regularly to keep him used to carrying you."

"Don't you worry about him," Clarkent said confidently. "You should instead be worrying about *me* ... falling *off* of him."

"Just wait until we practice with a quintain," Peri muttered.

"A quintain?"

"Just you wait, son," Peri said with a mischievous smile.

Clarkent groaned and hit his helmet against the wall.

***

Peri made sure Clarkent continued his training, and so it wasn't long at all before the boy was shown a quintain, though he ended up wishing he hadn't been. When Peri finally took him to a quintain used by squires and knights to practice tilting, he took Clarkent at night, so as to ensure the training tool was vacant.

Clarkent stared at the object. The upper half of a set of armor was hung on a wooden post that was about eight feet tall. A crossbar attached to the pole held a shield at one end and a heavy leather pack at the other. It somehow seemed strangely menacing.

"That's a quintain?" Clarkent queried, still looking at it.

"Sure is, son," confirmed Peri. "If you hit the middle of the shield, the whole thing will spin around--and with any luck, you'll get away without getting knocked off your horse. Now, if you strike it off center, that leather pack there will likely unseat you. But regardless, you gotta make sure you maintain your pace. Take it slow, and you'll get hit."

"And apprentice knights use this to train?" Clarkent couldn't help but ask skeptically.

"Well, pages usually start with wooden horses, but you're skilled enough that I think you can handle it more like a squire would."

"I'm not sure about this," murmured Clarkent.

"You'll do fine," insisted Peri, who was holding his magician's staff in one hand and a lance in the other. "Now, get up on your horse."

With a sigh, Clarkent mounted Esroh Repus. He took the lance offered to him by Peri, and Esroh Repus shifted uneasily. "It's all right, boy," he murmured, moving the long rod around a bit to get the horse more accustomed to it.

When he finally felt ready, he moved Esroh Repus to the distance from the quintain indicated by Peri. "Ready, Repus?" he asked.

The horse's ears flicked, so he took that as a "yes."

He kicked Esroh Repus forward, charging at the quintain with his lance at the ready, aiming for the shield--

The dummy loomed closer--

The shield was right in his sights--

The lance connected--

... but he hit the side of the shield, and in his disappointment, he didn't realize that Esroh Repus had slowed down.

A heavy *thwack* sounded on his back. He fell to the ground.

"Ow ... " That noise was about all he had the mental cognition for. He was pretty sure he had crushed his lance. And his face was presently buried in the ground.

He heard a soft noise in the grass and expected to find Peri approaching. Instead, he heard a gentle nickering, and Esroh Repus leaned down to nibble at his hair.

Clarkent swatted away the horse's nose and glared up at him. "Oh, like you could do any better!"

Peri's laugh rang out. Clarkent put his face back into the ground. He probably shouldn't have gotten out of bed today. Training to be a knight was no fun.

***

Chapter 17: Beauty and the Beast

Jacques rushed through the royal forest.

His lungs were heaving for breath as he moved, his hands clutching a dead pair of rabbits like all his hopes and dreams were wrapped up in them.

Tree branches and underbrush tore at his clothing, catching and ripping away pieces of it in his mad dash to escape the two men behind him. But as the clopping of horse hooves pounded in his ears and his legs began to burn with the exertion of running so fast for so long, he knew he wasn't going to make it. They were closing in on him, and nothing would be able to protect him from them. Doom was closing in on him.

He cast his eyes around, looking for a big log or rock to hide behind. But there was nothing nearby that he could use. He was terrible at climbing trees, and his pursuers would probably see him even if he did.

As he twisted his neck to look over his shoulders while he ran, the severity of his plight weighed heavily on him, and he returned his eyes forward, only to stumble to a stop as the two forest guards were suddenly circling around to the front of him on their snorting horses.

The brief hope for escape flew into his head--maybe he could still get away if he turned around and ran in the opposite direction--only to flutter back out immediately. He was too tired. He would never make it.

He threw himself to his knees, still holding the ears of those two conies with clenched white fingers as he desperately prayed he would be able to keep them. "Please," he pleaded, "don't imprison me. I need these rabbits--"

"You were committing a crime," one of the horsemen said flatly. His brown eyes were hard, and it was obvious he felt no pity for the man in front of him. "You were poaching in the royal forest."

"I was just trying to get food for my family," Jacques told him in a hoarse voice. "My two-year-old son and my wife--they're hungry. I can't just let them starve--"

"There is no excuse for your crime--" the same horseman started to say, only to cut off abruptly at the sound of approaching hoof beats. Someone was coming.

The accused criminal lifted his eyes in hope as a great black horse charged toward them. Seated on the majestic creature was a knight in glistening black armor. He bore no crest of allegiance, just a sharp sword and a silver shield.

The destrier trotted up beside the king's men, its nostrils flaring, and the knight swung his sword and shield. A few slashes later of the knight's sword, and the two forest guards were disarmed.

The two guards--surprised, to say the least--stared down briefly at the ground and the swords lying there, close, but just out of reach. One of them then muttered, "I'm not paid enough for this," and he kicked his horse and guided him away through the trees. Jacques stared after him, scarcely able to believe his luck.

The other guard glanced at the knight, who was staring at him with sword ready, obviously waiting for him to make his move. And then the second guard was galloping away after his partner, cursing under his breath.

The black knight dismounted after sheathing his sword, and Jacques, his heart pumping wildly, watched him in trepidation.

The knight bent down and picked up the two swords from the ground, holding one in each hand. Jacques knew for certain that the knight was going to plunge them deep into Jacques's own heart and then take the two hard-earned rabbits away from him, but that wasn't what happened. Instead, the knight walked over to a nearby tree and thrust first one sword and then the other deep into the bark. He turned to Jacques, who had the distinct impression that the man beneath the armor was smiling.

"Thank you," Jacques told him, rising slowly and unsteadily to his feet. He had never *wanted *to be a poacher--but he *had* wanted to feed his family. He hadn't been left with a choice. This knight somehow seemed to understand that.

The black knight nodded, not speaking, and walked over to his horse, which looked at him calmly. After mounting, he lifted his hand in farewell and then rode away without looking back.

"Thank you," Jacques called after him, feeling he couldn't say that enough. He hugged the conies against himself. His family would be able to eat something that night. And for that, he was immensely grateful.

***

Stories of the mysterious doings of a man the common people dubbed "The Black Knight" spread like wildfire.

Some said he was a ghost; others said he was an angel. Alexander believed he was a demon.

The Regent of Metropolita had tried to spread stories speaking against the Black Knight's doings. He encouraged Nobles to call him the Lawless One, as the knight--who probably wasn't even a *real* knight--was acting with a total disregard to the law. But the "Lawless One" didn't catch on the way that the "Black Knight" had, and it was just one more thorn in Alexander's side.

The Regent worried this vigilante was threatening his grip on power. It didn't help to soothe his worries that this "Black Knight" plunged the swords of those he bested into the ground or nearby trees as a sort of trademark, like this was a game in which he had to leave a stamp of victory. Other times, he left a scribbled note detailing the crimes of someone he left tied up.

The Black Knight's actions were skewed toward helping the poor at the expense of the rich, and that utterly infuriated Alexander. While the common people saw the Black Knight as a godsend, Alexander and the other Nobles saw him as a menace. His elusive nature and refusal to speak to anybody created an air of mystery surrounding him which intrigued even those who hated his actions.

When Tempos walked into Alexander's study, anger must have been written all over the Regent's face, as the knight commented, "Well, brother, this Black Knight's a regular Robin Hood, isn't he?"

It was the wrong thing to say. "He's a criminal!" growled Alexander, hitting his fist against his desk emphatically as he stood up.

Tempos smirked, reading his brother like an open book. "Still don't know where he is, huh? Well, he can't be *that* hard to find. Don't goody two-shoes like him leave trails of bread crumbs or something?"

"He has managed to elude the grip of my men," Alexander said darkly. "Not even the assassin I hired has had any luck. But I will get him yet! You can be sure of that!"

His younger brother gave him a patronizing smile. "Well, since the royal coffers don't seem to be standing up too well to this vigilante, I have something that might make you a little more pleasant to be around. One of my dumb lackeys--*pardon me*, how my tongue does slip--one of my* fellow knights* found a dragon's lair."

"What?" Alexander hissed. The lairs of dragons were notorious for two things--mounds of riches and scads of fire. Everyone knew that.

"But the dragon had gone out for food," continued Tempos, "so most of the treasure is now in our much more appreciative hands. It's not like a dragon can count gold coins anyway."

Alexander rubbed his chin, unsure whether he should be uneasy or appeased. The decision to be the former was made for him a few moments later when a messenger rushed into his study.

"What is it?" snapped Alexander.

"I have news, Y-Your Majesty," the messenger stuttered. "An angry dragon has started wreaking havoc on the kingdom. Buildings are going up in flames. We--we aren't quite sure what to do."

Alexander whipped his head around to glare at his brother.

"Oops," said Tempos with a shrug.

***

Clarkent was working in the stable when James came in, squawking up a storm.

"Be quiet!" he hissed at the bird, who immediately perched on the edge of a stall and began trying to talk to him in a much quieter fashion, as if the stableboy would be able to understand anything he said.

But though Clarkent could not understand the Peregrine Falcon, he knew it had to be bad, so he nervously went up to Dwayne, who was feeling a horse's swollen leg with a frown on his face.

"I, uh, need to go do something," Clarkent said quietly. "But I'll be back as soon as I can."

Dwayne gave him a long and perceptive look. It made Clarkent shift nervously, as he wasn't sure what the man was about to say, but then Dwayne grunted and conceded, "All right. Take as long as you need." He turned his attention back to the horse's leg, only to comment softly, "I think you need to take Esroh Repus out for a bit of exercise anyway."

Clarkent stayed in place, hesitant. Did Dwayne realize why he needed to go? Or did the Stable Master just think he needed to get somewhere in a hurry? Surely Dwayne hadn't simply said that in hopes that he would "exercise" Esroh Repus.

But he had no more time to wait, not if the bird's frantic wing flapping was any indication. So he jumped on the horse--bareback, no less--and rode off.

He went immediately to the cave, James flying with him. Once there, he got into his armor and leapt on Phantom, saying to Esroh Repus, "Sorry, buddy. I'd ride you, but you would give me away!"

And then he was galloping off, the Peregrine Falcon guiding him where he needed to go, flying above him but remaining in easy sight.

They went to the outskirts of town, where Clarkent found a plethora of archers sending nearly useless arrows flying through the air. But it wasn't the arrows that concerned him. It was the giant creature they were bouncing off of.

A massive green beast stood planted on the ground, its giant wings beating vicious gusts toward the men attacking it. Flames spewed forth from the creature's gullet, which seemed to have been made as one giant killing machine. It had razor-sharp claws and teeth, and its spine was covered in spikes all the way to the tip of its lashing tail. It was an honest to goodness dragon. And it was steaming mad.

Terror shot through Clarkent's limbs at the sight of it, throttling his heart mercilessly and causing his blood to gush through his veins as if a dam had just been broken. He wasn't ready to defeat a dragon.

It was all good and well to beat back bandits and town guards ... but a dragon? He had studied under Peri for the weak spots in a knight's armor--but not in a dragon's hide! For him to try to slay a dragon at this point was like asking him to empty out the ocean with a bucket! It was ridiculous! It couldn't be done.

But as his eyes gazed around and saw the fire let out by the dragon begin to spread, he realized he didn't have a choice. He was scared, but he had to help. If his career as the Black Knight was meant to end in flames, then so be it.

He kicked Phantom, trying to urge him closer, but the horse was being understandably reticent about approaching the giant flying thing with massive teeth and a mouthful of fiery doom. "Please, Phantom," he muttered, and the horse finally took a few steps forward. James flew above them, making some pathetic call like he knew their endeavor was doomed.

Clarkent tried not to think about the fact that one blast of fire from the dragon would probably cook him alive in his suit of armor; he thought only about stabbing his sword either into the dragon's belly or mouth. Where another possible weak spot would be, he didn't know, but those two spots were his best guesses.

But before he could finally force Phantom to charge at the creature, he saw another form on a horse go riding quickly at it. His expression of grim determination beneath his helmet became one of confusion as he stared at the Palomino and its rider. They both looked so familiar ...

And as he continued to stare, he realized that the horse was High Flyer ...

... and the rider was Princess Loisette.

The dragon turned its head toward her.

Clarkent's heart stopped in his chest.

***

Chapter 18: The Heart of the Dragon

Loisette was about to go outside with Catherine for archery practice when a man came rushing into the castle. He ran past her, but she called after him, "What's wrong?"

Surprised to see her, he paused long enough to tell her, "There's a dragon at the east edge of the city, and it's flaming mad, Your Highness," and then he sprinted away, presumably to go and discuss how to handle this colossal problem with the Regent. One day, such news would come directly to Loisette, but for now, she was treated like a child and kept out of the loop.

Loisette looked at her lady-in-waiting with a frown, the gears in her head slowly turning as she considered the situation.

"What is it?" Catherine asked in concern.

"It doesn't make sense," mumbled Loisette to herself, taking a few idle steps as she continued to think. Though there had been many stories written about dragons which portrayed them in an evil light, she had read one book which approached them from a more positive perspective. One of the things the book had said was that dragons usually avoided towns, which were too loud and busy for a creature that preferred the dark solitude of a cave. It was much easier for a dragon to feed on deer or sheep than on human flesh, and four-legged creatures thus tended to make up most of a dragon's meals. The giant flying reptiles were intelligent, the book noted, and preferred to keep a low profile. Though they were stronger than humans, they knew that humans lived in groups and could reign supreme by sheer virtue of numbers, so they stayed away.

There must have been something that upset the dragon if it was willing to start attacking the city. Loisette knew a dragon would be easily upset if it or its offspring were threatened. Having their treasure stolen also riled them. Neither of those two things were the dragon's fault.

"I have to do something," she told Catherine, making a decision. Then she began to sprint away.

"Princess, what are you doing?" the other girl called after her. But Loisette didn't listen. She didn't have time to explain. She had to get to the dragon before more damage was done. She had to help save the kingdom.

***

When Loisette rushed into the stable, she saw the Stable Master working at the front with a preoccupied expression on his face. "Your Highness," he said with a bow as he noticed her. "Clarkent just left--"

"I need you to saddle High Flyer," she told him breathlessly, trying not to think about the fact that he had assumed she was here to see the stableboy.

Seeming to realize her urgency, Dwayne got to work without any questions, putting the sidesaddle on High Flyer as she murmured to the horse, "***We're going to go do something scary, all right?***"

"***What?***" High Flyer asked her, his suspicion evident.

"***There's a dragon attacking the city,***" she admitted. "***I need to talk to it--calm it down. That means we have to get close to it.***"

"***That doesn't sound like a good idea,***" the horse noted, shifting in place nervously as Dwayne tightened the saddle around him.

"***Please--we have to do this. I think I can get it to stop if I just find out what it wants. It's really important.***"

"***All right,***" the horse said at last. "***I trust you.***"

"***Thank you,***" she replied softly, stroking his nose. She just hoped she could trust herself.

***

A few minutes later, Loisette was racing on High Flyer toward the dragon--and possibly death. She almost lost her nerve, not having realized the creature would be so big in spite of all the books she'd read and pictures she'd seen. Between its teeth and its fiery breath, she feared she would not survive this encounter. She suddenly started to feel a little sick to her stomach at the thought of being roasted alive. Would it hurt? Or would it be over so fast that she wouldn't even notice?

A glint in the light caught her eye, and she abruptly noticed there was someone else on horseback nearby staring at the dragon. Her countenance darkened as she realized who it must be. That black armor could only mean one thing--it was the Black Knight.

She'd heard stories about him from some Nobles at court. They said he was terrorizing the countryside, attacking and robbing anyone who got into his way. *He* must have been the one who had upset the dragon, and that infuriated her. Others shouldn't have to pay the price for one man's foolishness.

Emboldened by her anger, she pushed High Flyer forward. There was little time to give attention to her fear as the dragon turned to look at her.

And then High Flyer was braying, "***I can't go any closer. I can't go any closer. I'm sorry. I'm sorry,***" and she slid off the side of him, praying her dress wouldn't catch on the saddle and ruin everything right then and there.

But her feet met the ground without any difficulty, and after impulsively taking the golden coronet off her head, she ran toward the dragon as High Flyer raced away from it. "***Don't hurt me!***" she yelled at the dragon, waving the small crown in the air. "***I'm here in peace! I don't have any weapons! I just want to know what is wrong!***"

Loisette's breath caught in her throat as the dragon stared at her with its wide yellow eyes. The rage in its expression was unmistakable. But then those two yellow orbs lifted to stare at the coronet she was holding up, and something in that face shifted.

Praying that dragons really were as noble as the book she had read had made them out to be, she prostrated herself on the ground.

"***I want to help you,***" she told the dragon, coughing a little because of the smoke that hung thickly in the air. "***I promise it's true. Take my coronet as a peace offering--please, just listen to what I have to say.***"

There were a few seconds of silence as Loisette closed her eyes and waited for the flames of death to wash over her. But rather than the roar of fiery breath, she heard a crunching noise in the grass as the dragon stepped toward her.

***

Clarkent's eyes almost blurred in horror and fear as he saw Princess Loisette putting herself on the ground before the dragon, as if offering herself up as a sacrifice. What was she doing? Was she suicidal? Was she under a spell?

He wanted to charge forward immediately, and he kicked Phantom's sides, *hard*. But the horse backed up rather than moving forward. He continued kicking, but Phantom still refused to obey his commands.

He was on the verge of tears as he begged, "Phantom, *please* go. We *have* to help her!" In fury, Clarkent dug his heels in further, but the horse wouldn't budge.

Finally, he dropped to the ground, ready to run to the princess even though it was probably too late. He had taken several steps forward--Loisette still seemed so far away--when he saw the dragon reach out toward her.

"*No*," he whispered, about to charge ahead, only to pause as he realized something crucial about what the dragon had done. The dragon wasn't bringing her up to its mouth. Instead, the dragon was taking something from her.

***

Loisette slowly lifted her eyes, raising the coronet a little higher as the winged green serpent approached. It reached forward with a giant arm and hooked the small crown on a claw. It stared down at the item, as if trying to ascertain its value, and then it looked down at her. She had other coronets at home, so giving up this one would be no big loss, but it was her favorite. Still, she would relinquish any of her crowns in a heartbeat to save lives.

"***I am listening, tiny one,***" the dragon told her, his voice booming in her head. Though he sounded somewhat appeased by her gift, she could somehow sense a hint of anger bubbling beneath the surface. She had to be careful.

Biting back a protest that she was *not* that small, Loisette said to him as calmly as she could, "***I would like to know what has upset you. Tell me what happened, and maybe I can help you.***"

His golden eyes stared unblinkingly at her. Then, he lowered his head a few degrees, his countenance almost human in its sadness. "***I left my home to hunt some food. When I returned, I found most of my treasure gone. I flew over the city ... and I saw a knight with one of my silver cups. But I lost him in a crowd of people. The smells and noises were too much, and I could not find him again. I did not wish to attack the city, but treasure is a matter of honor with dragons. An adult dragon without treasure is no more respected than one newly hatched.***"

Loisette looked down at the ground, her forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. She hadn't realized dragons had any sort of society. But they were ancient creatures, so perhaps she should have expected it. Their society must be especially important to them now that their numbers had dwindled so much.

She lifted her head and stared at the dragon in front of her. "***We will either find the treasure that was taken from you or replace it with new treasure equivalent to the amount you lost,***" she promised him. "***I am the princess of Metropolita. I will talk to the Regent about it. I am sure he will agree with me. We will make this right.***"

The dragon seemed uneasy and a little surprised. "***You could do that for me?***"

***

Clarkent waited nearby on Phantom, both of them as antsy as colts tied up near a sleeping viper. Somehow, in his haze of fear and worry, Clarkent had realized that Princess Loisette and the dragon were *communicating* with each other. There was something in the way they were looking at each other which made that obvious. The dragon had taken the crown from her not with force ... but with a strange gentleness.

Clarkent had slowed his steps to a stop. He had known suddenly that if he went charging in, then whatever negotiations of peace the princess was somehow making would be all for naught. And it was possible the dragon might kill Princess Loisette in the confusion of trying to attack its sudden opponent.

And so he had gotten back up on Phantom, where he was unhappily waiting to see what the dragon would do. He wanted to be at the princess's side, protecting her. But though he was ill at ease with the situation, he couldn't help but feel something akin to admiration as he watched the princess communicate with the great beast.

Clarkent didn't know if the dragon was telepathic--or if there were some other explanation for why the two could talk with each other--but he was impressed by Princess Loisette's courage. He hadn't realized she was this brave. It took a lot of guts to walk up to a fully grown dragon without any kind of weapon.

But even while Clarkent was admiring her, he was a little upset with and terrified for her. The princess's life could be ended by the dragon in a second, and he would be powerless to stop it. She shouldn't be facing it alone.

He ached to go to her, to meet the maw of doom at her side, but if he tried anything, the winged creature might hurt her. And—he admitted grudgingly to himself--she *did* seem to have it under control, even if that seemed almost impossible, given the situation.

All he could do was watch in trepidation, his heart jumping wildly at the dragon's every movement.

***

Loisette's fear had quickly turned to pity for the creature in front of her. He was a victim of mankind's greed, and she wanted to fix the problem by restoring what was taken from him.

They came to an uneasy truce of sorts. The treasure would be returned or replaced within three days, or the assault on the city would begin anew. The dragon gave her directions to his lair, and she promised him she would ensure their bargain was upheld.

She watched as the dragon's great green wings beat and lifted him into the air, carrying him away as easily as if he had merely been the weight of a leaf. She turned in relief and called High Flyer to her.

As the horse came trotting forward obediently, she saw that the Black Knight was watching her.

Her mood darkened. *He* must have been the one who stole the dragon's treasure. It hadn't been enough for him to take wealth from the rich, had it? He had to go and endanger an entire kingdom by invoking a dragon's wrath!

As he saw her looking at him, he lowered his head--guiltily, she thought with annoyance--and kicked his horse, spurring him into action.

She watched the black horse gallop away and shook her head, aggravated that she had put her life at risk to fix the Black Knight's mess. Alexander was right. The Black Knight *was* a menace.

***

"Of course I will replace the dragon's treasure, Your Highness," Alexander told Loisette, throwing a look at his brother, who would have understood that it was meant to be a veiled glare. "The kingdom's safety is of the utmost importance to me. I am only sorry that you had to put yourself at risk." He was beginning to grow attached to the idea of having her as his bride, and he would have been absolutely furious if she had been killed. No one took away from Alexander what was his.

She gave him a very grateful look. "Thank you so much." She curtseyed slightly. "Thank you, Your Majesty, Sir Tempos."

Both brothers smiled at her as she left, though the younger brother's expression was more properly labeled a "smirk."

"At least you got lemonade out of your lemons," Tempos commented when the princess was gone. "She was very thankful for your immense 'kindness,' O Generous Brother."

"Well, we wouldn't be in this situation if not for you," Alexander growled. "Now, I want you to track down every piece of that treasure and put it back. There had better not be a single gold *ring* missing, or it will be your head!"

"Calm down, brother," Tempos said, rolling his eyes. "I'll put my toys back where they belong. I guess next time we'll just have to find an *abandoned* dragon cave ... Unless you happen to know any dragon slayers?"

Alexander shook his head in barely contained rage, his lips mashed together and his brows pulling his eyelids down over his eyes so that they were mere slits.

Tempos laughed. "It's just too bad the dragon didn't kill the Black Knight. At least the princess thinks it was him who stole the little lizard's playthings rather than me."

"You are going to be the death of us all," muttered Alexander.

"Oh, I'd just settle for one or two special people," Tempos commented vaguely.

Alexander just glared at him. People like his brother were the reason he always insisted on someone else tasting his food before he did.

***

Chapter 19: Hating Heroes

Visiting Day was a week after the dragon's appearance.

Clarkent was excited--part of him had thought the next Visiting Day would never come. He had a lot to tell his parents ... though of course he had to wait until Gawain left. Clarkent persisted in inviting his good friend to come with him on Visiting Days. It seemed like the right thing to do since Gawain didn't have any family, and Clarkent liked having him there. But it was a little bit frustrating at times to have to wait a while before he could finally talk to his parents in private.

"Look at you two boys!" Clarkent's mother exclaimed. "You have both grown!" She embraced first Clarkent and then the red-faced Gawain, who apparently hadn't expected the sudden movement.

Next, it was Clarkent's father's turn, and he pulled his son into a tight hug and then clapped Gawain on the shoulder. "It is good to see you both again!"

Clarkent had to resist the urge to embrace both his parents at once. Though they looked happy to see him, they were obviously very tired, and it reminded him that he was sixteen. When he was seventeen, he would be leaving the stable behind him and returning to his parents. *Then* he would be able to give them the assistance they so obviously needed. He had worried they might not last this long, but they had--and they only had to wait a little longer. He wasn't sure why there was a tightness in his chest as he thought about it, but he told himself that it must just be that he was glad he would soon be able to go back home.

"Did you hear about the dragon?" Gawain asked them, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"We did," Clarkent's mother confirmed. "News like that travels fast."

"I hear the princess helped calm the dragon," Gawain told them, almost sounding proud, though it wasn't clear why.

Clarkent flushed. It was true. He had been utterly useless. The princess was the one who had saved the day. He had waited nearby, gaping, as she singlehandedly made a truce with the dragon.

"She must be very brave," commented his mother.

"Yeah," Clarkent muttered, feeling like his mouth was full of cotton. She had been magnificent.

"Unlike the Black Knight," Gawain said in a derogatory voice.

It was all Clarkent could do to refrain from sputtering an exclamatory "*What*?" Fortunately, no one seemed to notice the look of shock on his face.

His mother ventured, "What do you mean?"

Gawain shifted a bit in place. "I heard the Black Knight was the one who made the dragon angry in the first place."

This time, Clarkent couldn't keep his mouth shut. "What? Why would you say that?" He swallowed. "He--he wouldn't do that."

Gawain gave him a weird look. "He's been terrorizing people. It makes sense--"

"He has not been terrorizing people," Clarkent said weakly. He dropped his eyes. "He's been--a--a hero to ... the people," he finished lamely. He was beginning to feel utterly disheartened. Was this what everyone thought of him?

"He doesn't abide by the law," countered Gawain, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Clarkent's mother finally stepped in. "Well, I don't know the details about his methods," she said gently, "but I have heard he has done some good things. Now, was there anything special you wanted to look at in the market, Gawain? I hear there is a new type of shoe that is all the rage ... "

As his mother and Gawain chatted about the market--with his father occasionally chiming in--Clarkent brooded. Did the people hate him? He had meant to be a beacon of hope. He hadn't meant to bring fear to anyone but the bad guys. Was that too simplistic to wish for?

Exhaling softly, he determined to put these thoughts behind him until Gawain left.

***

When Gawain was finally gone, Clarkent felt a sense of relief. Though he had tried not to think about his activities as the Black Knight for a while, he could not help but find his mind drawn back to the subject. He wanted to talk to his parents about it. They didn't know that he was the Black Knight, and he needed to know their thoughts about what he was doing.

He looked at them and asked quietly, "What do you two think about the Black Knight?" He grimaced a little at the name, though he tried not to show it. Since a black knight claimed allegiance to no lord, did the people think he didn't claim allegiance to them either? Was he seen merely as an outlaw?

"I think he's trying to help people," Clarkent's father said. "But that's a difficult task to take underway."

His mother spoke up. "But I think it's helping the people just to know that there is someone out there trying to fight battles for them--trying to keep them from being crushed under the weight of the law that is supposed to help them."

Clarkent stared at them, still heavy-hearted but glad at least that they did not hate his alter ego. As they gazed back at him, he wondered for a handful of seconds whether they knew his secret--whether that glint in their eyes was knowledge or just appreciation--but then the feeling passed, and he said in a voice so quiet they almost couldn't hear it, "I'm the Black Knight."

And then they were crushing him into a hug, murmuring to him about their love for him and about how glad they were that he was trying to do something so great for others. Though no one was around, they spoke in frantic whispers, asking him about what gave him the idea, what exactly he did, where he hid his armor and horse, if he got hurt very often, how it felt to save people, and countless other questions only proud parents would ask. And he told them everything--about how Peri had given him so much help, about how saving people made him feel fearful yet exhilarated, about how his typical day had changed ...

At last, his mother asked in a quiet voice, "Is there anything you need from us, Clarkent? Anything at all?"

"Your love and support," he replied jokingly.

His father clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You already have that, son. You always have. And you always will."

His heart felt lighter than it had--if his parents thought he was on the right path, then surely he was.

"So, Clarkent," his mother said abruptly, leaning in as if to discuss the secret further, "have you met any pretty girls?"

"W-what?" he stammered, his cheeks suddenly hot. An image of the princess had flashed into his mind and was stubbornly refusing to go away.

"So you have!" she exclaimed, pleased. "Who is she?"

"I--I--" Clarkent looked at his dad helplessly, but the older man just shrugged and gave him a "leave me out of this" look. Finally, Clarkent said cautiously, "I may know someone who is--okay-looking ... " He swallowed. "But it wouldn't ever work between us."

"Why not?" persisted his mother.

"It just wouldn't."

She stared at him thoughtfully and then frowned. "Is it because you'll have to leave the castle soon?"

"What do you mean?" he asked her.

"This is the last Visiting Day before you're seventeen," she pointed out. "Will it not work between the two of you because you'll be gone before long? Is that what you're worried about?"

Clarkent grimaced. "That's not exactly--"

"Clarkent, your father and I talked about this. We want you to know that if you get Requested to stay, you can."

"What?" Clarkent asked, blinking stupidly at her, as if he hadn't heard her right.

"If you want to stay, you can. You've spent a lot of time here, and I'm sure you have friends--"

"But I want to help you and Dad," he protested. "You've been struggling just to put food on the table--"

"Requested servants get paid for their work," his father noted. "And they get paid pretty well. If you insisted on helping us, you could send us a little of that money."

Clarkent shook his head, turning away from them. "We don't even know if I *will* get Requested."

"But if you *are*," his mother said, "and you want to stay, you can. You don't have to make that decision right now. But we want you to know that the option is there."

Clarkent sighed. He had been trying to avoid the idea of staying at the stable, not liking the appeal it held for him. He guessed it was good he knew where his parents stood, but to think about staying for even a second felt like a betrayal of them.

Still, he murmured to them, "All right. I'll think about it."

***

After Loisette left Clarkent and his parents, she changed into her princess clothes and spent some time with Catherine. But being with Clarkent's parents had made her think about her mother, and she found herself aching to learn more about the queen.

For a while now, Loisette's thoughts had returned periodically to consider the horse called Penelope Grace. The mare had belonged to her mother ... and Loisette could not help but wonder if the horse remembered Queen Ellena and could say what she was like. It would take only a few words for Loisette to find out--but a big part of her was scared the horse would remember nothing.

But she would never know unless she went, so at last she told Catherine she wanted to go spend time with the horses. Catherine had given her a funny look, realizing that the princess hadn't mentioned riding, but she went along obediently.

Dwayne and Billy--who had been Requested years before and apparently liked spreading his dour sarcasm around--were alone in the stables, all the other stableboys presumably away for reasons relating to Visiting Day. Knowing how much Loisette and Billy clashed, Dwayne stepped forward and said with a bow, "Your Highness. May I help you?"

She shook her head. "I just want to spend a little time ... talking to the horses." She looked down in embarrassment. "I know it's silly, but--"

"Nonsense, Your Highness. I like to talk to them myself." He gave her an understanding smile before returning to her work.

Catherine seemed to sense the pensive mood Loisette was in, as she didn't hover. Instead, she went over to talk to Billy, which made Loisette grateful even though it also made her roll her eyes.

Loisette stepped up to Penelope Grace. She had come to know many of the horses in the stable, but she had been avoiding the white palfrey as if contact between them would make her contract the plague. Now, however, she was ready to face the horse.

"***Hello,***" she said quietly, staring at Penelope Grace. "***I am Queen Ellena's daughter, Loisette.***"

"***I have seen you in here,***" acknowledged the horse with wary slowness. "***You are good friends with the quiet human.***"

It took Loisette a minute to realize Penelope Grace was talking about Clarkent. "***Yes, I am,***" she said. "***You seem to give him and the others a lot of trouble. Why is that? Do you hate them?***"

The palfrey seemed amused. "***Sometimes humans must be put in their place. I do not hate any of them. I tolerate the quiet one more than most of the others. He is kind, but I do not wish to follow his orders like a trained mule.***"

Loisette gave a lopsided smile. "***Were you this much trouble with my mother?***"

"***Your dam was very kind. I think perhaps we got along so well because we were both interested in mischief. She could talk to me--as you can talk to me--and we would share secrets out in the field. Sometimes, she would walk beside me rather than ride me. We even went out and had adventures.***"

"***What kind of adventures?***" Loisette asked eagerly.

The horse dipped her head. "***One time, we went to an ogre cave.***"

An image flashed into the princess's head of great riches, and she frowned. "***What is with all the gold?***" she asked.

"***Ogres are hoarders,***" Penelope Grace told her. "***They do not always collect treasure, but these ogres did.***"

"***Do you think they're still around?***" Loisette asked.

"***I do not know,***" the horse answered. "***But I do not recommend trying to meet them. We barely escaped with our lives.***"

The princess closed her eyes, thinking sadly of the woman who had brought her into the world. "***Do you miss her?***"

"***Horses do not live in the past so much as the present ... But ... yes. I miss her,*" Penelope Grace admitted. Her ears flickered, and she said, "***The quiet one is here.***"

Loisette turned and saw Clarkent walking into the stable. He looked tired and perhaps even a bit worried. Upon seeing her, he gave a hasty bow. "Your Highness."

She nodded at him, biting back a query about whether he enjoyed the time he had spent with his parents. It was best that she not seem to know too much about him.

He hesitated, obviously wanting to say something, and she looked at him until he did. "I heard what you did with the dragon, Your Highness," he said nervously. "That was ... very brave of you."

A small smile tugged at her mouth. "Thank you." Her mood suddenly darkened. "I had to do something to fix what that *Black Knight* messed up."

***

Clarkent practically squirmed in place, his spirits dropping even lower, though he hadn't thought it possible. Now the *princess* was speaking ill of his secret identity? Two of his closest friend--not that he should really think of the princess as a friend--disliked the Black Knight. What had he done to deserve this?

Forcing himself to seem nonchalant, he asked, "You think he had something to do with the dragon's appearance?"

"A knight stole the dragon's treasure," she told him. "It had to be him. Real knights swear an oath to protect people--not to go get more wealth."

"I guess you're right," he mumbled. He couldn't believe the princess hated him. How could something he had intended to be so good go so wrong? He felt almost like yelling in frustration, but he didn't have the energy. And besides, knowing the princess disapproved of the Black Knight made him feel depressed. Maybe he just wasn't cut out to be a hero. Maybe he needed to quit before he made anyone else upset.

The princess turned to Penelope Grace and whispered something. Then, she patted the horse's nose--without being bitten for her presumption, Clarkent noticed--and went up to Catherine. The two girls gave a stilted farewell before leaving, but Clarkent barely heard them.

***

After helping Dwayne and Billy for a little while, Clarkent went outside. He intended to go to his secret hideout to see Phantom. Though Peri's magic dealt easily with the practicalities of horse ownership (and the magician even assisted with ensuring Phantom got enough exercise), Clarkent still liked to help with the horse when he could. Sometimes, he would be too busy to do much--particularly when there was a tilt--but he tried to see Phantom at least once every day. There was an eternal flame from Peri in a wall sconce so that the horse would always have light, but Clarkent still felt bad that the horse had to be in the cave as often as he did.

Clarkent had barely taken five steps when he noticed Peri walking toward him.

"Good evening, Clarkent," the magician said to him. The falcon on his shoulder also gave Clarkent a greeting.

"Good evening, Peri, James," Clarkent returned.

His unhappiness must have showed on his face, as Peri asked him, "What's wrong?"

Clarkent looked away. "Am I doing the right thing, Peri?"

"What do you mean?"

"Being ... the Black Knight," he said quietly. "It's just—my friend Gawain and the princess both complained about him—about me--like he's ... like I'm ... some kind of criminal." The words were hard to get out--it hurt to know that those two people thought so lowly of him.

"You are doing the right thing," Peri told him, the gruffness of his voice causing Clarkent's eyes to shoot up to meet his. "And justice is its own reward. You aren't trying to help people so that you'll be praised, are you?"

"N-no," Clarkent admitted.

"Exactly. Nobody can make everybody happy all the time. What's important is that you know you're doing what you should in here," Peri noted, touching his chest above his heart. "You will make some people unhappy--but you are also giving some people hope. And that's a powerful thing."

Clarkent gave him a searching look. "Do you really think I'm giving people hope?"

Peri smiled. "I know so, son." He set a hand on Clarkent's shoulder. "I know I'm proud of you."

James made a noise of his own, as if to second what the magician had said.

Clarkent broke out into a grin, finally letting himself push through his despair. At least his parents and Peri supported what he was doing. He wondered idly in the back of his mind if his biological parents would have been proud, too.

***

Chapter 20: A Noble's Request

As Clarkent's seventeenth birthday approached, he began to get nervous. He finally expressed as much to Gawain.

"You're nervous about your seventeenth birthday?" his friend said. Clarkent could hear the frown in his voice. "Why?"

"I'll be going home," Clarkent replied softly. He and Gawain were standing in stalls right next to each other, both of them grooming horses.

"What do you mean?" Gawain asked.

Clarkent turned so that he could look over at his friend and shook his head with an affectionate smile. "You can remember all those grand stories, but you can't remember something as important as this?" But then his smile died. "At seventeen, someone who's been Assigned isn't required any longer. At least--unless they're Requested. So ... they have to leave."

"Do ... do you hope you're Requested?" Gawain asked in a small voice.

Clarkent swallowed and looked back at Agides. "I'm ... torn about it," he admitted. "I ... I like it here. I have friends." He threw a smile at Gawain. "And I know what I'm supposed to do here." He felt comfortable with the horses—they had become companions of sorts for him. He would miss them. Furthermore, if he went to be with his parents, then he would have to consider giving up his stint as the Black Knight. His parents lived in a very small village far from the castle where very little ever happened, so keeping the secret identity wouldn't be feasible. And besides, he couldn't maintain Phantom without Peri nearby, even if he *was* able to find somewhere to hide him.

And if he left, he would have to say goodbye to Gawain and Dwayne and Billy and the others ... He would probably never see them again. He would be losing people that had become a major part of his life.

And ... in the back of his mind ... he kept thinking about the princess.

It hurt to think she might not even miss him if he left. But was that true? Would ... would she really not miss him? Was he just a stableboy to her? Or could she see him as ... as something more?

And why did he keep thinking about her?

"I've been dreaming of leaving for so long," he told Gawain, "but now I'm not so sure. I--I do want to see my parents more and ... and help them. But if I got Requested ... maybe that wouldn't be so bad. I could send some of the money to help my parents out, and I could still stay here, you know?"

***

Loisette stared at Clarkent, her chest tightening for reasons she wasn't sure of. He would be leaving soon? She had--she had forgotten. How could she have forgotten about such an important aspect of the Assigning?

"I wish you could stay," she whispered. She despised the Assigning at that moment. It had given her a best friend, only to take him away. If Clarkent had simply been hired as a servant, then he would have been paid already and would have had no reason to leave--he could have been able to help his parents all along. Even she had noticed how worn his parents seemed--and she had felt a tiny stab of guilt about it. "Who am I going to act out adventures with?"

The stableboy smiled at her. "You're a great person, Gawain. I'm sure there will be someone for you to act out adventures with."

Loisette looked down at her hands. She had Catherine, but ... it just wasn't the same. Catherine wasn't Clarkent. Loisette and Catherine had fun together--but it was a different kind of fun. Catherine treated her like a friend--but like a friend that was a princess.

Unable to put what her heart was feeling into words, she simply told Clarkent, "I guess you're right."

She didn't know why her eyes were getting so blurry.

***

"So, who's your favorite?"

"Huh?" Loisette turned to Catherine in confusion. They were at a party being hosted by Alexander. Famous knights and important Nobles were spread throughout the hall, eating and socializing. The great room was filled with the smells of food and the noise of merriment.

Loisette and Catherine had just ceased talking to a knight, and Loisette had let her gaze wander across the room. Her preoccupation meant she had no idea what Catherine had been asking.

"Who is your *favorite knight*, Your Highness?" Catherine asked her, speaking in a tone that sounded as if she thought Loisette dense. "I like Sir Klaud myself."

Loisette brought her eyes up to look at the knight mentioned. She *had* admired Sir Klaud's appearance on occasion. With his melodious accent and chiseled looks, Sir Klaud was pleasing to both the ear and the eye. It was kind of strange how Loisette had only recently begun to notice it.

The object of their thoughts glanced up at them and shot them a shining smile. Loisette and Catherine both blushed.

"He's just as charming in private as he is in public," Catherine said slyly.

Loisette raised an eyebrow. "You've spent time alone with him?"

Rather than answer the question, Catherine said, "What's surprising about that? You're always slipping off to visit boys."

"I'm not always--" Loisette began to protest, only to falter as she realized what Catherine had said *was* true ... in a way. Her thoughts flicked to Clarkent, and she felt a stab of pain at the thought of his oncoming departure.

Catherine must have seen the look on her face, for she said gently, "What's wrong?"

Loisette considered denying that something was wrong, but then she steeled herself, deciding to tell the truth. This was her best friend. She could trust her not to say anything to anyone. "I'm going to miss Clarkent--the ... the stableboy who always helps us," she said quietly. "He'll be turning seventeen soon. I--I wish he didn't have to leave."

Catherine stared at her with an expression that said she knew more than Loisette was saying. "He wouldn't have to leave if he got Requested," the lady-in-waiting remarked casually. "If you talked to the Regent, he would probably Request that the stableboy stay. After all, the stableboy is really good with horses. It would be a shame to lose him."

Loisette's eyes widened. Catherine was right. It was a great idea. Why hadn't Loisette thought of it herself?

"And he's cute," commented the lady-in-waiting with a grin. "Though I don't know if he's quite as handsome as Sir Klaud."

Loisette's cheeks were warm. "Y-yeah," she said with a cough. "Sir Klaud *is* very handsome." But it wasn't Sir Klaud who was filling her mind's eye.

***

When Loisette went to see Alexander the next day, she was nervous. She didn't want it seem as if she had an improper interest in Clarkent. She simply wanted her friend to continue on at the stable as he always had--she enjoyed their time together, and she didn't want it to end. But what if Alexander refused to Request the stableboy? What would she do then?

The Regent smiled warmly when he noticed her. He always seemed to enjoy talking to her, though she rarely sought him out herself. There was something about him that seemed slightly creepy, though she wasn't quite sure what.

"Princess Loisette," he greeted, bowing as she curtseyed. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

***

Alexander was pleased that the princess was coming to see him. And when she began shyly, "I have something I wish to ask of you," his pleasure began to grow. But his happiness dissipated as he heard what she desired:

"I was wanting to know if you would Request that the stableboy Clarkent remain at the castle."

His eyes narrowed before he quickly forced them to resume their normal appearance. His suspicions were immediately aroused—why did she want the boy to stay? "May I ask what your interest is in the stableboy?" he asked with agonizing calmness.

***

Alexander's question caused Loisette's heart to jump in fright, but she forced herself to speak normally: "My--my mother's horse likes him, and he is best at controlling her." It was a slight lie--the Stable Master was likely better at controlling Penelope Grace--but she didn't feel too bad for uttering the falsehood, as Penelope Grace *did* let Clarkent guide her more than any of the other stableboys. "My horse, High Flyer, also appears to like him." And here she delved deeper into untruths: "I am very particular about the handling of my horse. Some of the stableboys are not as skilled with horses as he is. I wish for my horse to remain in good hands."

Alexander stared at her, and Loisette felt like squirming. She hated to act as if she were denigrating the other stableboys, but now that she was here, she felt as if she were under the Regent's scrutiny, and she didn't want to seem as if her interest stretched any further than the welfare of the horses.

***

Alexander gazed at the princess as he thought carefully of her request. He was not a fool--even as he realized there was danger in this, so did he also realize that obliging the princess in this instance would increase her estimation of him. And if he were going to woo her to be his queen, he knew she would need to think highly of him. There was a slight stubbornness in her that he had come across a few times, and it was important for him to build up her image of him.

Besides, if the stableboy did prove himself a threat, Alexander could always have him killed. No one would ever miss a lowly stableboy.

He dipped his head. "I shall Request the boy to stay. What was his name again?"

"Clarkent," she repeated. "But please--do not tell him that I asked for him to stay. I merely wish him to remain for ... for the care of my horse."

Alexander nodded sharply. "I shall be sure to leave your name out of it." That was what he had intended to do anyway. He did not want the *peasant* to believe the princess had any interest in him.

As he watched the princess leave, he vowed to keep a closer eye on the stableboy called Clarkent.

***

The day before his seventeenth birthday, Clarkent was requested to appear before the Regent. Upon receiving the summons, Clarkent felt his stomach twist. There were only two reasons he could think of for being asked to see the Regent--either he had been found out as the Black Knight, or he was going to be Requested to stay at the stable. If it was the former, then he was as good as dead. If it was the latter ... then he wasn't sure what his answer would be.

He entered the throne room slowly, gulping as he took in the Regent in all his elegant finery. He forced his feet to move forward, and at last he was standing right in front of the man. He took a careful bow--one of his better ones, thankfully—and waited until the Regent gestured for him to rise. The last time they had met, the Regent had looked on him none too kindly.

"Your Majesty," Clarkent said quietly, his mouth dry.

"I understand you are good with horses," the Regent commented.

Clarkent felt an inner sense of relief. This wasn't about the Black Knight. "Y-yes, Your Majesty," he said fumblingly, keeping his eyes averted.

"It is hard to find good *stableboys* these days, so I would like to Request that you stay at the royal stables."

Clarkent nearly lifted his head. There was an insult veiled within the Regent's sentence. He obviously considered himself above stableboys, and Clarkent knew it was with good reason. Clarkent lacked the Noble blood that the Regent had.

Clarkent allowed himself a few seconds to think. He wanted to be by his parents' side, helping them--but he ached to be with Loisette.

He wasn't sure why, but the thought of being away from her tore at his heart. To never be able to see her again was more than he could bear.

And so, with a mental apology to his parents, he said in a low voice, "I would be honored to stay."

***

As Alexander watched the stableboy leave, he narrowed his eyes. He would definitely keep a careful watch on the peasant. While the princess would surely never marry a stableboy, it couldn't hurt to be careful.

***

When Clarkent returned to the stable, he found Gawain waiting for him and petting Penelope Grace. Frowning a bit at the horse's lack of retaliation, Clarkent walked toward his friend.

Gawain heard his approach and turned. He brightened upon seeing Clarkent. "Hello!" he greeted.

"Hello," Clarkent mumbled. "I--I thought you should know--I've been Requested to stay."

Gawain stared at him, his face cautious. "And ... ?"

"And I decided to accept."

Gawain leapt forward and embraced Clarkent, who stumbled back a few steps. "I'm so glad to hear that!" Gawain exclaimed.

Clarkent smiled at his friend's happiness. At least he wasn't losing this good friend--at least, not until Gawain turned seventeen. That thought darkened his mood. He hated how the Assigning controlled everyone's lives.

And he hated how he felt like he had betrayed his parents—even if they had told him he could stay. But at least his earnings would bring a little relief to them. He was glad that he would still be helping them, though it would be in a different way than he had intended years before.

And he could still continue to be the Black Knight. He would be helping others. That was important.

***

Chapter 21: Cold Reality

A few months later, a young woman was on a dirt road walking home from the market. In one hand, she held a basket of food and in the other a small coin-purse containing a few leftover coins from her trip. Thus, when a pair of men stepped in front of her, she paled in terror. She knew their intentions immediately.

"We'll take your food and your money," the taller man told her in a low voice, a sleazy smile on his face.

"No," she said quietly, her eyes jumping around as she plotted an escape route.

"If you want to, we'll do this the hard way," the other man growled, leaping at her.

She jumped to the side and began to run away. Her hope was so great that she started to think she might actually escape, but then one of the men caught up to her and yanked her dress backward. With a cry, she jolted to a halt, the basket of food flying out of her arms and landing nearby. She turned and kicked the man in the groin and began to run again, but the second man caught up to her and pinned her arms behind her. She gasped as she saw the glint of a knife. "*No*--"

***

Clarkent guided the galloping Phantom forward as he looked back and forth between his surroundings and the flying James. And then they were *there*, at the part of the path where James had been leading him, and he saw a woman struggling with two men. Without hesitating, he leapt off the horse beside them and rammed his shield into the head of one of the men, knocking him unconscious. The other man turned toward him, eyes widening, and then, having had more time to react than his companion, he stabbed at the vulnerable spot under Clarkent's arm.

Clarkent jumped backward, the movement a little awkward in the plate armor, but he effectively dodged the knife. Then he drew his arm back and punched the man in the face with a metal gauntlet.

The man stumbled backward, throwing his hand up to his nose as blood seeped out from behind his dirty fingers. Clarkent threw his gaze briefly to the ground, where the woman sat holding her side. Seeing her pain, his indignation surged again, and he stepped forward and hit the man in the head with his shield, causing him to crumple to the ground as his accomplice had.

Clarkent retrieved some rope from Phantom's saddle--he always made sure to have some with him--and tied up the two men, not wanting them to regain consciousness and cause more problems. When that was done, he rushed over to the woman, his breath catching in his chest as he saw the growing red stain on her dress.

He knelt beside her--she was lying down now--and stared at her with a feeling of helplessness. The blood was spreading quickly, attesting to the serious nature of the wound, and he pressed his hand against her side, trying to staunch the liquid's flow, knowing even as he did it that there was no point. By the time he found someone to help, she would be dead.

She stared up at him with pain-filled eyes and whispered in amazement, "The Black Knight."

He stared down at her, hating that he hadn't reached her sooner. And then, though he always avoided talking to others while in his armor for fear of being recognized, he asked her in a choked voice, "What is your name?"

***

She gave a gentle smile as she heard her savior speak. He sounded so kind.

"Maison," she told him, knowing as she said her name that it would be the last time she did. The pain in her side grew, and she closed her eyes. "Please, take the food and my purse to my family. My--my little girl needs it especially."

"Where ... " he started to ask, sounding as if it were an effort to talk, " ... where do they live?"

As she slowly gave the Black Knight directions to her home, she thought of her little girl's beautiful face. What the child would look like as a woman, she would never know ... And she wished that knowledge didn't hurt so much.

"I'll take it to them," he told her in a whisper. "I promise."

She smiled at him, and then she surrendered to the painlessness of Death's arms.

***

Trembling, Clarkent took a quill, a bottle of ink, two small pieces of paper, and another piece of rope from the bag attached to Phantom's saddle. Laboriously--for he was still not that skilled at reading, much less exercising his penmanship--he wrote "Murderers of Maison" on each piece of paper. Pulling the two men together and putting more rope around them to bind them together, he glanced down at the two men, his teeth pressing down into his lip so hard it bled. Then, taking in a shallow breath, he attached the notes to them.

After replacing the quill and ink to his bag, he attached the basket to the saddle. He detached the coin purse from Maison and placed it inside the basket. Then he gently lifted her.

***

Daniel was inside his house laughing at his little girl's antics when he heard a quiet but insistent knocking. He set the child down and went to open the door, a smile ready on his face.

His eyes fell to the ground. Maison was lying there, her dress soaked with blood. Somehow, he knew immediately she was dead.

His breath caught in his throat, and his gaze went to the basket sitting beside her as he stood there, trembling.

The noise of hoof beats caught his attention, and he looked up see a knight in black armor riding away. He fell to his knees by Maison, noticing for the first time a note that had been placed beside her. With shaky hands, he picked it up. The note had just one sentence on it: "I am sorry I could not save her."

Daniel dropped his head down into his hands and began to cry.

***

Numb, Clarkent rode away from the home of Maison's family; James had left him at some point, but he wasn't sure when. His head was too full to concentrate on the world around him. All he could think about was death.

Death had always seemed so far away, but now ... he had seen it up close. It had filled his eyes, clawed at his heart, whispered in his ears, and shaken his limbs like leaves in the wind. Death was one enemy he could never defeat.

He couldn't help but feel responsible for the young woman's death. If only he had gotten there a little sooner ...

Phantom abruptly stopped as someone stepped into their path. It was Peri, and James was perched on his shoulder. The bird must have gone to get him.

"Clarkent," the magician said softly. "James told me what happened."

"I was too late, Peri," Clarkent rasped, tightly clenching the reins in his hands as his eyes began to blur. "I wasn't able to save her. I don't--I don't know if I can keep doing this."

The wizard gave him a hard stare. "When I was first learning magic," he said casually, "I did something my master told me not to do. I enchanted a bunch of broomsticks--and I lost control over them. When my master finally came and set everything right, I was so embarrassed I never wanted to cast a spell again." He sighed. "But when my master finally got over his anger and heard that I intended to quit, he told me that once you set your mind to something, you have to stick with it, no matter what."

Clarkent shook his head vehemently. "This is different, Peri," he said in a low voice. "I wasn't able to save someone from dying. My failure was a matter of life and death."

"Clarkent," Peri said firmly, "you are giving the people hope. Don't lose sight of that. You will never be able to save everyone--and you have to accept that. No matter how many times you help, you're going to fail every now and then."

"I can't live like that," Clarkent whispered. "I can't live this life knowing that--knowing ... " Knowing there would be people he couldn't save. That was too pessimistic--it was like giving up.

"But you have to," Peri returned in a quiet voice. "If you aren't the people's protector, then who do they have? They need your help--no matter how much it hurts. If you give them everything you have, then that's enough."

Closing his eyes, Clarkent gave a short bob of his head. Perhaps Peri was speaking words of wisdom ... but it was so hard for his heart to listen.

Still, he had to keep helping people--even if some of them ... died. Even if a part of him would die with them.

Peri was right. The people needed someone to give them hope. Even if he wasn't the ideal person for the job, he was all they had.

***

A few months later, Princess Loisette and her lady-in-waiting came into the stable to ride. Clarkent stared as the princess stepped in. There was a glow in her cheeks and a confidence in her steps that had not been there when he had first met her all those years ago. She was really growing up. Soon, she would be a woman--and there was something frightening in that thought, though he knew not what.

"Your Highness," he said with a bow. "And Lady Catherine."

The princess nodded at him and smiled. "Clarkent." She glanced over at the horses. "We would like to ride High Flyer and Agides, please."

Clarkent dipped his head. "All right." He got out the horses' tack and began readying them. As he prepared High Flyer, Princess Loisette stood beside him and watched.

She sighed, and he looked to her. She had lifted a hand and was touching the royal logo on the horse's bridle. "I still wish I had a pegasus. If I had one ... I could fly wherever I wanted." She smiled at herself, shaking her head. "That's silly, I guess."

"No, it's not," Clarkent murmured. He felt sadness bubble up in his chest--he wished he could get her a pegasus. He wished suddenly and fervently that he could make all her dreams come true. But he couldn't. He was just a stableboy. He had nothing to give her. Nothing she wanted.

As he finished up High Flyer and moved to work on Agides, he tried not to think about how the princess smelled of wildflowers.

***

Loisette encouraged High Flyer to go faster, and she laughed as she looked over at her lady-in-waiting. "Come on, Catherine! Where's your competitive streak?" She frowned as she caught the expression on the other girl's face. Catherine had been brooding all day, though Loisette wasn't sure why.

The lady-in-waiting quickly masked her somber mood with a smile and said, "Oh, I just wanted to ensure you had a good enough head start, Your Highness. You have that whole disadvantage of being royalty to weigh you down, so I knew you needed it!"

Sticking her tongue out, Loisette flicked her whip and kicked with her foot, causing High Flyer to surge forward. "I'll show you disadvantaged!"

Catherine just laughed and guided Agides after her.

***

The two girls had a lot of fun that day. They skipped meeting with their tutors and simply spent the afternoon doing whatever they wanted. Every now and then, however, Loisette would look over to her friend and see a troubled look on her face. When asked what was wrong, Catherine never gave a straight answer. Finally, night was upon them, and they were forced to change to indoor endeavors. When they at last went to Loisette's room, she was exhausted, and she collapsed on her bed in an exaggerated fashion, splaying out her arms.

When Catherine didn't make any comment, Loisette sat up with a frown. "Catherine ... are you going to tell me what is wrong?"

Her friend's back was to her, but at last the lady-in-waiting turned with tears in her eyes. "I ... I have to leave tomorrow."

"What?" Loisette asked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Catherine wrung her hands. "It's my own fault. I have no one to blame but myself."

Loisette stood up, her hands clenched at her sides. "Are you in trouble?" If her friend *was* in trouble, she would fight to help her!

Catherine gave her a sad smile. "This isn't the kind of trouble you can save me from, Princess." She closed her eyes and whispered, "I just wish my heart wasn't broken."

"What do you mean, Catherine?" Loisette asked quietly, moving closer to her friend.

"I--I did something with Sir Klaud that ... that I shouldn't have."

"What did you do, Catherine?" Loisette asked slowly. She felt she already knew the answer--but she hoped she was wrong.

Catherine broke out into sobs, and Loisette embraced her tightly. "Princess," the lady-in-waiting said in between her tears, "I have to be sent away. I have to hide from everyone. I--I'm going to ... to ... " She choked on the words, her body wracked by emotion, yet she finally managed, "I'm going to have a baby."

Loisette's grip on her friend tightened as she felt her own eyes becoming misty. "It's ... it's Sir Klaud's?"

"Yes," Catherine confirmed shakily. "But he won't--he won't ... he won't m-marry me. He ... he says the baby isn't ... isn't his."

Two very different emotions surged within Loisette at that moment. One of those emotions was sorrow--she mourned the fact that something like this had happened to her friend ... and that she would never see Catherine again.

But the other emotion was white-hot anger. She was mad—utterly furious.

Catherine would be forced to leave behind all that she knew and loved. She would be shrouded in shame ... just because she was the woman.

But as the man, Sir Klaud would remain unaffected.

It was a double standard--the mark of woman's shame was easily seen and readily denounced. But a man had simply to deny his involvement in a scandal, and he would be absolved of all blame. A knight's vows of honor and chivalry could be smashed to pieces--but if it was his word against a "weak" woman's, then his would be believed. The laws of government and rules of propriety were made by men, and Loisette hated it.

What had begun with frustration years ago at society's need for her to ride sidesaddle rather than astride had now transformed to anger and resolve. She suddenly wanted to be queen--she wanted to have the power to enact changes in society.

Loisette felt tears stream down her face. She was going to lose someone else who was important to her. But Catherine was going to lose *everything*.

***

The next morning, the two girls shared a tear-filled goodbye. Loisette never saw Catherine again. But she never forgot her.

***

Chapter 22: Bare Hips Sink (Friend)Ships

About a year later, the sixteen-year old Loisette was strolling around outside the castle. Despite all the time they had spent together, she still hadn't grown to like her new lady-in-waiting. Mishal was utterly smitten by a knight at court named Arneld, and he was all she talked about. As a result, Loisette--who didn't feel too kindly toward knights based on the examples of Sir Klaud and the Black Knight--avoided the lady-in-waiting as much as possible.

As she walked the grounds alone, she found her thoughts wandering to her friend. She wondered how Catherine was doing. Did she have any friends where she was? Was it scary to be a mother? Did she think about Loisette very often? Would she be able to find happiness? Was her baby a boy or a girl?

Loisette wished she could go visit Catherine as Gawain. But the magic of the clothes meant Loisette couldn't tell anyone about them. And besides, she didn't actually know where Catherine was. For all Loisette knew, the older girl could have been in the Barbarian Kingdom. Loisette had no way to find her. They had been torn apart forever.

Knowing the great loss Loisette felt, Aliss had come to see her a lot following Catherine's departure. But though her old nanny was able to provide her some comfort, Loisette still wished Catherine was around even after all this time had passed.

She had begun thinking a lot about friendship. Now that she could no longer talk to Catherine, Loisette wished desperately that she had been able to share her doings as Gawain. Catherine had entrusted her with the secret of her shame--and Loisette wished she had been able to reciprocate. She was certain Catherine would be amused that a set of clothes had been able to fool people for so long.

Thinking about the magic clothing turned her thoughts to Clarkent. She wanted to tell him her secret identity as well—she wanted him to know that the friend he had played with for years was actually female. It was a big thing to hide from him, and she was beginning to feel guilty in having persisted with it for so long. But even if she *could* tell him, would it end well? Would he start to treat her differently? Maybe it was best that she could never find out.

She heard a familiar noise and looked up to the sky. James was flying down toward her. Smiling, she stretched out an arm for him to land on. With a normal falcon, it would be impossible to trust that its talons wouldn't puncture a bare arm. But James was no normal falcon, as she had known for a long time.

He gently landed on her arm and tilted his head. "***Good day, Your Highness.***"

"*Good day, James,*" she returned warmly, reaching a finger out to stroke the feathers under his beak. "***It's a nice day to be outside.***"

"***Yeah, it is,***" he agreed, tilting his head back to enable her to scratch him more effectively. "***I noticed you seemed lost in your own little world there.***"

Her smile faded, and she lowered her hand back down. "***I was just thinking ... ***"

"***About what?***"

She hesitated. She hated to bare her soul to a bird—particularly when she wasn't sure if the bird understood that some things had to be kept secret--so she opted to be a little vague in her answer. "***Well,***" she said slowly, "***I want to tell someone something ... but I can't.***"

"***Ah*," he said, opening his beak slightly. "***I know how you feel better than you think. I used to be a human.***"

"***What?***" she asked in surprise. "***You were human?***"

The bird lowered his head. "***Yeah. A sorcerer transformed me.***"

Loisette frowned. "***Why would he do that?***"

"***Because of my parents,***" he said sadly. "***They were Nobles, and they lived next to the Mystical Sorcerer's home—he used to be the court magician, you know. When my mother was pregnant with me, she had a lot of weird cravings. For days, she stared at the Mystical Sorcerer's large pumpkin patch, and finally she insisted on having one of the pumpkins. No other pumpkin would do but one of the Mystical Sorcerer's. She—she made my father steal one.***"

"***And he got caught,***" Loisette guessed with a wince.

"***Yeah. But the Mystical Sorcerer agreed not to harm him on one condition. They had to give him their firstborn child--me--whenever he asked. They were scared, so they agreed.***" He let out a faint noise that was perhaps his equivalent of a sigh. "***You can't really blame them.***"

"***And then?***" Loisette prodded.

"***When I was six, the Mystical Sorcerer finally asked for me. But my mother loved me so much, and she refused to let me go ... So he turned me into a falcon.***"

She felt pity wash over her. "***Oh, James ... ***"

"***I was so scared,***" he admitted. "***I just ran away--well, flew away. I was eventually found by Peri. He could talk to me--like it seemed no other human could. I told him what had happened, and that's when he put himself forward to be the new court magician, replacing the Mystical Sorcerer. It was a good day for the kingdom when that happened. Even if it was too late for me.***"

"***Did you go back to see your parents?***" she asked gently.

"***No,***" James said, turning his feathered head away from her. "***Peri tried to get me to return, but I didn't want my mother to see me like this. It's been a very long time since I have looked at either of my parents. I don't think I will ever again.***"

"***James,***" Loisette said slowly, "***you should go visit them. I'm sure they would love to see you--***"

"***No,***" the bird said sharply, staring at her with intense eyes. "***It has been too long. They probably do not even remember me.***"

Loisette protested, "***I'm sure that isn't true--***"

"***It doesn't matter if it is. There is no need for me to see them when I cannot even speak one word to them. They would not understand me as you can. They have not been given your gift.***"

Loisette brought the bird on her arm up to her chest, giving him an awkward but gentle hug. "***Well, if you ever want to see them, I can go with you and translate.***"

"***I have a new life now*,**" James told her. "***Don't worry about me.***" But she couldn't help but notice that he still seemed very sad.

***

Leaning forward on Esroh Repus (whom Dwayne had said Clarkent could ride whenever he wanted), Clarkent raced after Gawain. The younger boy was standing up in his saddle on Agides and whooping.

"Sit down!" Clarkent yelled at him, laughing. "You're going to get hurt!"

Gawain sat down obediently ... but only to spur the horse on to greater speeds. "Catch me if you can!" he called.

Clarkent rolled his eyes as he continued to follow Agides and Gawain. Reckless though Gawain was, Clarkent was fortunate to have him as a friend. When Clarkent had asked months ago for help in sending his parents a letter, Gawain had readily agreed. Since then, Gawain had assisted Clarkent in sending several letters to his parents. Clarkent was indebted to his friend, and he wouldn't forget it.

Clarkent felt happier than he had in a long time. It felt good to be able to send his parents money. He knew that it would help them greatly. His only worry was that Gawain might be turning seventeen soon. He wasn't sure of the other boy's exact age, but surely that day would be coming in a few years, if not sooner than that. It saddened him to think about it. At eighteen, Clarkent was past that hurdle, but Gawain certainly wasn't.

Pushing aside those depressing thoughts, Clarkent kicked Esroh Repus and brought the horse out ahead of Agides. He swerved to take a path different from the one Gawain had been following, and he smiled at the noise of Agides hot on his trail. He pulled at his shirt, which was sticking to him with perspiration. It was a hot day, and he was ready for some relief. And he knew just where to go get some.

***

Clarkent finally stopped Esroh Repus beside a great lake. The lake was fairly close to the border, though not so close that Clarkent would avoid it. The water of lake was cool and crystal clear. There was something very serene about it.

Clarkent dismounted and walked up to the lake's edge, smiling as he dipped a few fingers in the water. A bird flew overhead and trilled a fragment of a song before passing on its way.

Agides's hooves had stilled, and Gawain approached behind Clarkent, asking, "Is this ... Avalon Lake?"

Clarkent smiled. "Yes." He began tugging at his shirt, his mind already on the cool relief of the water. "It makes a great place to swim."

***

Loisette watched wide-eyed as the stableboy took off his shirt. And then when he began to slide his pants down, she yelped, "S-stop!" She wasn't sure whether she was protesting because she shouldn't be seeing him half-naked--he wouldn't have gotten *completely* naked, would he have?--or because she couldn't go swimming with him since she *wasn't actually a boy*, but she did know that she felt highly uncomfortable with the situation.

But she was finding quickly that her eyes were glued to his chest. It was impossible not to notice the muscles there--she had seen (and admired) his strong arms many a time, but she hadn't laid eyes on his stomach or his abs or--

She wrenched her eyes away and turned her head, flushing. It was inappropriate for her to notice how well-built a commoner was. She shouldn't be thinking about reaching out to wipe off the sweat trickling down his chest or running her hands down his arms to feel the bulge of muscles. The thought of Catherine's obsession with sweaty boys returned to her, and she gulped to herself. She was really beginning to understand that obsession.

But Clarkent didn't know where her thoughts were--could *never* know that her thoughts had gone there--so she scrambled to think of something plausible to say. Finally, something came to her. "There are bad stories about the lake," she said nonchalantly, moving to pet Agides. As she stroked his neck, she tried not to think of Clarkent's bare neck ... or the bareness beneath it.

"What kinds of stories?" Clarkent asked her.

"There's supposed to be a mysterious Lady of the Lake who punishes any evil people who come into her waters," she told him. "So we should stay out of the lake."

"We're not evil," the stableboy noted skeptically. "And besides, those are just stories."

She turned to him, irked that he was resisting her on this. "You shouldn't swim in there." She swallowed as she saw that his shirt was still off.

"I've been in there before and not gotten hurt. I'm hot, and I'm going in. *You* should come, too."

"No, you're not going in there!" she snapped, her voice coming close to a yell. "It's dangerous in Avalon Lake. You could die."

"You *like* danger!" he pointed out. "Just because you're scared of swimming--"

"I am *not* scared of swimming!" she protested.

He crossed his arms across that still-bare chest. "Then why won't you come in the water?"

"I told you," she hissed. "The Lady of the Lake will punish--"

"*Oh*! Stop using your stupid stories as an excuse--"

She narrowed her eyes. "My stories are not stupid--"

"You shouldn't base your life around stories. And if you're scared, you should just admit it--"

"I do *not* base my life around stories, and I am *not* scared of the water! You don't know anything about my life--"

"That's because you never tell me anything when I ask!" he returned, throwing his arms up in the air. "Anytime I try to ask about your parents, you clam up--"

"Well, they're *dead*, all right!?" She was almost in tears. "Forgive me if I don't want to talk about them!"

"You can't keep everything all bottled up inside! You have to let it out sometime--"

"You wouldn't understand!" she shouted. "You have the perfect set of loving parents who would do anything for you! I have nothing! Do you know how hard it is for me to look at them and see what I can't have?"

"Gawain--"

"Just forget it! Swim in your stupid lake! I'm taking Agides back to the stable!"

Clarkent watched as Gawain mounted the brown horse and then galloped away. The heat of the day suddenly didn't matter anymore. Had he lost his friend forever?

He nearly cried out after Gawain, but he didn't think the other boy would listen even if he did. With clumsy fingers, he put his shirt back on, staring mournfully in the direction that his friend had disappeared.

***

Chapter 23: Gifted

Clarkent felt strangely detached from his body as put Esroh Repus back into his stall. His horrible fight with Gawain was all he could think about.

How could he have been so cruel to the younger boy? If Gawain had no desire to swim--whether due to fear or inability or lack of interest--Clarkent shouldn't have pushed ... and he certainly shouldn't have brought up Gawain's parents. He'd known for a long time *that* was a sensitive subject.

"You seem troubled, Clarkent," commented Dwayne.

Clarkent looked at the Stable Master sadly. "I guess that's because I am."

"Want to talk about what happened?"

Clarkent's fingers twitched at his side. "I got in a fight with Gawain. I ... I pushed. And I said some things I shouldn't have."

Dwayne gave him a small smile. "One fight will not end a friendship."

"I don't know," Clarkent said in a soft voice. "This one was really bad." He clenched his eyes shut. He wished he could go find Gawain to apologize--but he never could find him even when he tried.

***

After Loisette returned Agides to the stable, she went into the castle, spun out of her Gawain clothes, and then went into her room. Mishal was there and immediately started talking about what wondrous thing Arneld had done that day, but Loisette just climbed into her bed and hid her face in her pillow. She tried to hold back the tears, but a few leaked out to make dark spots on her pillow.

She couldn't believe what had just happened. She had been trying to avoid swimming and seeing Clarkent like ... like *that*, and then he had said she was scared and had brought up her parents, and it had all been one giant explosion.

She envied what Clarkent had--it was true. He had two loving parents who would have obviously traveled hundreds of thousands of miles for him if he needed them to. They would have given their lives for him ... would have done anything to make sure he was happy. It hadn't taken long for her to realize that about them.

She could barely remember her mother. Maybe her mother would have been just as wonderful as Marta, but all Loisette had of her was a fragmented memory of her laughing ... and the stories told about her by others. Her mother was like a ghost constantly hovering at the edge of her consciousness--but one she could never completely see, much less touch.

While her father had been alive, he had been too caught up with that ghost to give Loisette the love she needed. Catherine had left her, too, and now Loisette had ruined one of her last close relationships. She lifted her pillow to look up at Mishal, who seemed to have finally caught on that something was wrong.

"Are you all right, Your Highness?" the lady-in-waiting asked.

Loisette slowly sat up and put her feet on the floor. "I need to--to go do something."

She had to try to make it right.

***

When Gawain walked into the stable, Clarkent dropped the hoof pick he'd been rather ineffectually using, and he took a step. "Gawain--"

"Clarkent," Gawain said, taking a deep breath, "I'm sorry."

"No, *I'm* sorry," Clarkent replied, moving out of the stall and toward his friend. "I was in the wrong. I shouldn't have tried to make you swim or said that about your parents--"

"It's all right," Gawain said with a small smile. "It was a ... stupid fight."

Clarkent felt so relieved he could have hugged Gawain--but he refrained and asked instead, almost shyly, "Friends again?"

Gawain grinned and nodded. "Friends!"

And then Gawain hugged *him*.

***

A few weeks later, Clarkent and Gawain's friendship was firmly reestablished. Nevertheless, Clarkent found himself feeling glum, though it had nothing to do with Gawain.

Peri noticed his mood and commented on it: "Is there something on your mind, Clarkent? You look a little down."

Clarkent's cheeks felt a little warm. "Is it ... is it true that the princess's seventeenth birthday is in a few months?" He'd heard rumors ...

Peri smiled and dipped his head. "It is. And then she will be made queen. I have been waiting for this day--the Regent's reign has been too long as it is. They are planning a ball for the princess's birthday. It's supposed to be extravagant."

"Yeah, that's what I heard," Clarkent said in a small voice.

The magician frowned at him. "You're not depressed that she's going to become queen, are you?"

"No!" Clarkent said adamantly. "I just ... I just want to get her something for her birthday, but I don't know what."

Peri shook his head, looking a little bit irked. "You don't know what sadness is if you think that's it. Why, the King was killed by one of his loyal followers," he said, referring to the man from the Barbarian Kingdom whom he liked to talk about, "who married his wife and took his throne. When *you* have to make the decision to send away your--well, when you're in a situation like that, maybe you'll know true sadness."

Clarkent cowered a little, feeling guilty yet also a little curious. What had Peri been about to say?

"At least you can *do* something, son," Peri pointed out.

"What can I do?" Clarkent asked him, holding his hands up in the air in frustration. "I don't have enough money to buy her anything. My parents insist I keep some of my wages, but I refuse to hold on to anything beyond that--"

"You could save up a little money by doing odd jobs," suggested Peri.

Clarkent's face fell. "I don't really have much time for that ... " Not if he wanted to be the Black Knight, too.

The magician softened. "You're right, Clarkent. I'm sorry. I'm just ... a little nervous about something. The winds of change are blowing. I've tried using divination spells, and it's been draining my energy, but I haven't been able to learn much about what is going to happen."

"What is ... going to happen?" Clarkent echoed as apprehension flooded his mind.

"Never you mind that," Peri told him, though he looked nervous. "What if I helped you out a little--I could pick out a book for you to give to the princess. I know she likes books."

"Would you?" Clarkent asked hopefully. "I just--I just want to give her something, you know?"

Peri smiled. "I'll give it to you tomorrow."

"Thanks," Clarkent told him. But he stared at the magician, a puzzled look on his face. What was Peri worrying about? What was going to happen?

***

True to his word, Peri gave Clarkent the book the next day. The stableboy took it gratefully. There was still a part of him that wanted to give her something grand--something she could truly be proud of--but he was simply glad that he would have *something* to give her. That would have to be good enough.

"Thank you, Peri," he said softly.

The magician clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Anything to support young love."

Clarkent's cheeks were suddenly flaming hot, and he coughed, "I don't *love*--"

But the magician was already walking away and laughing. Narrowing his eyes, Clarkent went back into the stable.

He softened as he stared down at the item in his hand. Looking at a few pages, he quickly determined that the book was written about Queen Laural, who was from the Barbarian Kingdom. He knew the subject was something the princess would probably enjoy—and that was likely why Peri had chosen it. The magician was smart.

As Clarkent looked at a few more pages, he noticed there was a strange word repeated in the book that began with "K," though he wasn't sure how to pronounce it. Still--all that mattered was that the princess would like it. He flipped to the end and saw a picture of a woman crying and waving goodbye to someone. He touched the picture with a gentle finger. <*Why is she so sad?*> he wondered. <*Who is she saying goodbye to?*>

The noise of footsteps reached his ears, and he looked up to see Gawain coming in to the stable. Clarkent quickly hid the book. He trusted his friend, but he wanted this present to be something between himself and the princess. Gawain would ask questions—and possibly even demand to read it.

He nodded at his friend in greeting, and Gawain came trotting over.

But even as he began to talk to Gawain, Clarkent found his mind kept drifting back to the book. Would it be a good enough present? Was it ... special? Would she like it?

He just wasn't sure.

***

A little over a month later, Loisette--as Gawain--decided to convince Clarkent to go with her to the ogre cave Penelope Grace had mentioned.

She had gotten the location from the reluctant horse, and she was excited at the thought of what might be there. But the tricky part was getting Clarkent to agree.

"So, I think we need to go on a small adventure," she said casually.

Clarkent was grooming a horse, and he looked up sharply. "What?"

"It's been a while since we've done anything fun. We should go and--"

"Go where?" he interrupted suspiciously.

"Oh, just an old ogre cave--"

"An ogre cave?" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, an ogre cave," she confirmed. "But I don't know if the ogres are still there," she added hastily. "In fact, they probably won't be." In actuality, she had no idea whether they would be there or not. It had been a long time since Penelope Grace had been to the cave, so there was no way to know if they were still there. But Clarkent didn't have to know that.

"But you don't know that for sure," he pointed out, his eyes narrowed.

"The cave is supposed to be *filled* with treasure," she told him eagerly. Surely *that* had to interest him.

***

When Gawain said there would be treasure at the ogre cave, Clarkent's interest was immediately piqued. Was this his chance to obtain a present for the princess? Something perfect? Something she could ... well, treasure? The book made a nice backup gift, but it just didn't say what he wanted it to. What exactly he *did* want his gift say, well, he wasn't sure, but he knew that the book didn't send the message he was hoping for.

"Filled with treasure," he echoed thoughtfully. If he could find something in the cave for the princess ... But a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Where did you hear about this cave?"

"You know how people talk," Gawain said vaguely. "Come on, Clarkent, we have to go to this cave! Just think about what is inside it!"

A protest flew to Clarkent's lips, but then he recalled the big fight between him and Gawain. He didn't want to risk something like that happening again, and so he sighed and conceded, "All right. I'll go."

Gawain grinned. "Great! We'll go tomorrow and take Agides and Esroh Repus!"

"Maybe we should just take Agides," Clarkent said uneasily. "We shouldn't endanger more horses than we have to."

Gawain crossed his arms with a stubborn look. "We'll need two horses if we're going to go home with a lot of treasure."

Again, Clarkent's mind flicked to their spat, and again, he conceded, "All right." He just hoped the ogres were long gone from the cave.

***

As they approached the cave on Agides and Esroh Repus, Loisette thought to herself how glad she was that they were going to the cave. Her birthday was in less than three weeks--and then she would have her coronation and become queen ... and a lot of important duties would finally fall to her. She wouldn't have much time for adventures, so it was important she have a few more before then. She wanted to have something she could look back on with fondness.

Clarkent suddenly asked, "Do ogres eat horses?"

Loisette frowned. "I ... I guess they might. Maybe we should hide the horses?"

"I think that's a good idea," Clarkent said tightly. It was obvious he was nervous about what they were doing.

***

They hid the horses and then walked cautiously toward the cave. Clarkent was wishing he had at least brought his sword. They were going into an *ogre cave* without any weapons! Were they completely *insane*?

He swallowed. He knew why *he* was coming. He wanted a gift for the princess. But why was Gawain so focused on adventure? In some ways, the younger boy acted like he had been locked up all his life.

Gawain had had the presence of mind to bring torches, so they weren't in complete darkness when they stepped into the cave. Gawain moved forward eagerly, and Clarkent hurried up and tugged on the younger boy's sleeve, causing him to stop and turn.

"Gawain," Clarkent said uneasily, "maybe we should go back." Though he wanted to get something for the princess, it was stupid for them to put themselves at risk. They didn't have any weapons. They wouldn't be ready to face whatever was inside.

Gawain rolled his eyes. "I'm sure we'll be fine. We just got here!" He started walking again.

Clarkent gasped as he saw something. "Gawain, I think those are bones ... "

"We're in an old ogre cave," Gawain scoffed. "Of course there'll be bones." But Clarkent noticed Gawain didn't exactly appear eager to look at them.

As they went deeper into the cave, Clarkent bit back his misgivings. They had come this far; they might as well continue. Just a little longer in the cave, and then they would find some treasure and leave, right?

But then a faint noise came to his ears, and he asked, "Do you hear that?"

Gawain nodded. "It sounds like ... music."

The music grew louder as they continued. Then, they turned a corner, and the torchlight made the chamber before them gleam. There was treasure everywhere.

Golden coins shone on the floor; gems were scattered everywhere; boxes filled with further opulence were pushed up against the wall. The room was a hoard of valuables. There was even a magical harp that played itself--it was apparently the source of the noise they had heard.

"Wow," Gawain breathed.

"Yeah," Clarkent seconded.

The room was spectacular. That much was clear.

Gawain rushed forward to the back side of the chamber where the harp was. Clarkent went up to a box near the front. He sifted through it, wide-eyed. He'd never seen this much wealth in one place before.

He moved on to the next chest, which was filled with jewelry. He thumbed through it in interest. A necklace would be perfect for the princess.

He pushed one aside as too large and gaudy. Another he moved to the side as being too tiny and unimpressive. And then suddenly, his hand stilled. He closed his fingers on a necklace and held it up next to his torch so he could see it better. It had a delicate golden chain that was pretty but not especially noteworthy. What had caught his eye was the necklace's pendant.

A golden square was inlaid with a blood-red ruby, and on top of the gem was a magnificent flying horse. The creature's wings were stretched out, its legs lifted in perpetual flight as its tail swayed in an invisible wind. As Clarkent stared down at it, he remembered how much the princess had wanted a pegasus. He could never give her a real pegasus--but he could give her this. This was perfect.

With a small smile to himself, he took the necklace and—after making sure Gawain wasn't watching--put it in his pocket. He moved on to a different chest, looking more out of curiosity than desire.

A minute later, Gawain rushed over to him. "Clarkent! You have to see this! There's this hen over there laying eggs that are--"

They both froze as they heard an approaching noise. Something was coming.

They glanced at each other and then dove behind a particularly large box of treasure.

As the sound of talking voices grew louder, a vile odor seeped into the chamber, and Clarkent and Gawain wrinkled their faces up in disgust. It smelled like rotten meat.

"One ring all we got!" a deep voice said in disappointment. There was a clanging noise as the owner of the voice threw something--presumably the aforementioned ring--on the ground.

"Got food," a second voice mumbled. "That good."

"Could have tasted better," the first speaker said.

"No complain, fool," a third voice growled, speaking with the authority of a leader. "We fill bellies. That good enough--" He cut off. "Nose smell something foul. There tasty nibblies in here?"

Clarkent and Gawain stared at each other, wide-eyed. What were they going to do?

"Oh, niiiibblies," the third speaker continued. Suddenly, a massive form appeared in front of them. "Ha!"

"Run!" Gawain squeaked as he and Clarkent sprinted for the entrance.

But the other two ogres were ready for them, grasping them by the backs of their shirts.

"Let us go!" Gawain demanded, struggling to get free.

The three ogres were hideous. Their skin was gray-green, and their heads were hairless. Massive and misshapen teeth jutted out behind their lips, and their fingers were like dirty sausages. They wore clothes, but it hung off them in tatters.

"Me got yum-yums," the second ogre said happily. He seemed to be the tallest and stupidest of the bunch. "Yum-yums!" He pressed his face up against Clarkent, who nearly gagged at the smell coming from the ogre's mouth.

"Let us go, or you'll be sorry!" Clarkent managed. He had tried to punch and kick the ogre holding him, but it was no use. Its hide was too thick.

"Me think nibblies want to play," the leader said with a grin. "Me think we should let them."

"Want food, not play," the shortest ogre grumbled.

"Play!" insisted the leader. "Put down."

Obediently, the other ogres dropped their human captives. Clarkent and Gawain would have raced to leave the chamber, but the two ogres blocked their exit with surprising speed.

"We each give riddle," the leader told them. "Get riddles right, you leave. Get riddle wrong, tasty nibblies go in our bellies."

Clarkent looked to Gawain, who gave a short nod. It wasn't like they had a choice anyway. "All right," Clarkent agreed. He was beginning to feel a sliver of hope--there was something by the wall that looked like it might be the hilt of a sword. If he could get to it without their noticing ...

"I give first riddle," the shortest ogre proclaimed. "My riddle: I have mouth but cannot eat. I always run, though I have no feet."

Clarkent couldn't help but exchange a look with Gawain. Maybe these ogres were smarter than they acted. They could certainly sound civilized if they tried. But Clarkent was terrible with riddles, and he gave Gawain a hopeful look.

"A river," Gawain said at last. "A running river has a mouth, but it has no feet and can't eat."

"Good!" the leader said, sounding pleased. "Me riddle next." He gave them a toothy grin.

"You can try to race against me

And may like me when I'm ripe.

Just make sure you never waste me--

Hands of mine aren't easily wiped.

I can demolish a large town,

And you can try to bide or kill me.

Whenever I'm up, there's someone down.

I will tell you all eventually."

Clarkent inched closer to the sword, having barely listened to what the ogre said. If Gawain didn't get this riddle ...

"Time," Gawain said proudly, moving the torch in his hand a little. "Our time isn't up yet." He gave a small smile, but his eyes flicked toward the entrance. Clarkent knew he was ready to run if there was an opening, but they needed a distraction to get the ogres to move.

"Me turn," the dumbest ogre said. "Me riddle: You'll never want to go into me, but when you do, you'll no longer care."

"That doesn't rhyme," Gawain mumbled.

The dumb ogre looked annoyed. "Me riddle good. You no get."

Gawain exhaled heavily. "I don't--I don't know--"

"Grave!" the dumb ogre said triumphantly, leering in anticipation of sending the two boys to an early one.

Clarkent's free hand struck in a flash, grabbing the sword and pulling it up. "Back away!" he yelled.

The ogres shifted nervously. They obviously hadn't expected their prey to fight back.

Clarkent leapt at the dumb ogre with the intention to startle rather than harm, and he was rewarded when the ogre moved back several steps.

"Move, Gawain!" Clarkent commanded.

The younger boy ran through the opening, and Clarkent swung his sword in the air before following. The ogres came charging after him, but he flung the sword back at them with all of his might and was rewarded when one of them gave a howl. "Nibbly hurt!" the ogre said.

But Gawain and Clarkent were too busy running to look back. When they finally reached the cave entrance, they were huffing and puffing for air, and they threw their torches back into the cave and continued to rush away. They found their horses were they had left them and galloped away without looking back.

When at last they had put enough distance between them and the three ogres, they slowed their horses.

"We almost died," Clarkent panted, his heart still racing a million miles a minute.

"I know," Gawain said with a wide grin. "Wasn't it fun?"

***

Chapter 24: At Full Tilt

Clarkent was outside exercising Penelope Grace--who refused to be ridden that day but allowed herself to be taken around on a lead rope--when Peri came up to him.

"Clarkent," the magician said, "there's something you need to know."

"What is it?" Clarkent asked, frowning.

"Have you seen the signs?"

Clarkent's frown deepened. "What signs?"

Peri sighed. "The Black Knight has been challenged to a tilt."

"What?" Clarkent exclaimed loudly. He winced a little and then looked around to make sure no one was watching them. "What do you mean?"

"The Regent has been stewing over the Black Knight for a while, and he's finally decided that a public humiliation is the best method to get what he wants. His brother and tilting champion, Sir Tempos, will be waiting to joust with you three days before the princess's seventeenth birthday."

Clarkent's face darkened. Under Peri's guidance, he had practiced tilting with a quintain before, but Sir Tempos was legendary for both ruthlessness and horsemanship. How could Clarkent hope to hold a candle to his skills? ... Especially when Clarkent had never jousted with a live opponent before.

"I'm not going," he said flatly. "I'm not at his beck and call. I refuse to come running at his command like a ... a trained lapdog!" Clarkent the stableboy may have owed something to the Regent due to the man's Requesting him to stay, but the Black Knight owed him nothing.

"Clarkent, I can try to get you some jousting armor--" Peri began.

"No. That won't be necessary. I don't intend to go." If he were unhorsed at the joust, he would be expected to give up both his armor and his horse, and he intended to part with neither.

The magician lowered his head. "All right."

***

The day before the tilt Clarkent had determined he would not attend, Princess Loisette came into the stable with her lady-in-waiting, Mishal. Clarkent had seen the young woman several times, but he actually missed seeing Catherine and wondered what had happened to her. But he could not presume to discuss the change with the princess, so he was left to wonder about it in silence.

Upon seeing the princess, he felt a strong sense of relief. He had been worried he wouldn't see her again before her birthday, and he had something he wanted to ask her.

"Your Highness," he said, bowing. "Shall I prepare High Flyer and Agides?"

"Yes, please," she returned with a smile.

Mishal was waiting near the entrance, Clarkent noted gratefully. As he tacked High Flyer, the princess came up beside him to pet the horse. Blushing furiously, he said in a low voice, "Your Highness, I wonder if you might ... consent to--to meet with me after your birthday ball." He swallowed and inhaled deeply, amazed that his nerve had gotten him this far. "I wish to see you in ... in private." What he wanted to do was give her the birthday present he had for her. And he wanted to do it before she was queen. Her birthday ball was scheduled the night before she turned seventeen. When she finally ascended to the throne the next day ... he didn't know what would happen. Would he no longer see her? Or would she simply not talk to him? Was it a requirement for royalty to ignore their servants?

She gave him a strange look as she thought over his request, but then she nodded. "All right," she agreed softly. "I will see you then."

He smiled at her, his heart leaping for joy. He finished with High Flyer and moved on to work on Agides. Mishal finally moved toward him, though she directed her conversation toward the princess: "Your Highness, do you think the Black Knight will show up at the tilt tomorrow?"

Clarkent grimaced but said nothing, merely listening to the two ladies.

"I doubt it," the princess scoffed, causing a pang of sadness to shoot through Clarkent. "The coward won't even show his face to anyone. I doubt he will come to a true test of courage."

Clarkent chewed on his lip but still remained quiet.

"Do you think he's scared?" Mishal asked.

"Probably. Sir Tempos is a great jouster. I doubt the Black Knight has any such skill."

The princess's scorn cut Clarkent to the core. Did she really think so little of his alter ego?

He finished helping the two ladies and then watched as their horses walked away. Was he really a coward? The reason he didn't want to go had nothing to do with fear, did it?

***

Later that day, Gawain came into the stable. Clarkent was mucking out a stall because one of the younger stableboys had fallen sick after eating. He nodded and smiled at Gawain. "Hey, Gawain."

"Hey, Clarkent," the other boy returned. He frowned at Clarkent's work and then looked around. "I guess you're pretty busy if you have to muck out stalls, huh?"

"Yeah," Clarkent acknowledged. He didn't even bother asking Gawain for help--he knew the other boy to be a bit squeamish when it came to horse dung.

"Are you going to try to sneak to the tournament tomorrow?" Gawain asked, pushing some straw around on the ground with his foot.

Clarkent looked away. "N-no," he murmured.

"I don't blame you," Gawain commented, moving to pet Agides. "It's not like the Black Knight is going to come."

Clarkent winced. "What makes you say that?"

"I bet he's too scared to come. Now, if he killed a Garm, *then* I might be impressed with his courage. But I doubt that would ever happen."

Clarkent narrowed his eyes. "Everyone knows that Garms only exist in fairy tales." Adults would tell stories of Garms to scare children into obedience--they were supposed to look like mutated black wolves, with hunched eyes, matted fur, and red eyes that glowed in the dark. Unlike wolves, they weren't supposed to show any fear of humans.

"I think they're real," proclaimed Gawain. "And besides, it's not like the Black Knight is an honorable man--he probably doesn't care what anyone thinks of him."

Clarkent turned away, squeezing his eyes shut. But he *did* care how people saw him. And now that he knew both the princess and Gawain thought so ill of him ... he didn't know if he could stand it. His pride certainly couldn't take much more of a battering. He had to prove that he was an admirable person.

"I think he'll show up," Clarkent said suddenly. "I think he'll go--and he might even beat Sir Tempos."

Gawain shook his head. "I doubt he's that good."

"Well," Clarkent said sourly, "I guess we'll find out tomorrow."

"Yeah--I guess so."

***

Clarkent was in his hideout putting on his armor when Peri entered.

"I thought you weren't going to fight," the magician said, sounding concerned.

"I changed my mind," Clarkent said gruffly.

"You should've told me--I could have tried to get you some proper armor." Peri sighed. He walked over to the cave wall, which Clarkent's lance was set up against. Examining the blunt pole, he remarked, "At least your lance appears to be in proper shape." Clarkent had broken more than one when training with the quintain.

"Yeah," Clarkent said with a nod. "Thank you for ... for all of your help." Peri had helped him so much, providing him equipment and advice. He would always remember it.

"You should know the rules for the match, Clarkent. You're allowed three passes of your horses. If one of you falls off, then you will sword-fight until one of you wins. No other weapons are allowed."

Clarkent inhaled and told him, "Thanks, Peri."

The older man smiled. "I think it's probably time you headed out of here."

"I guess so," Clarkent conceded, his mind already speculating about what would happen when he attempted to meet the Regent's challenge. "Wish me luck?"

"What I'll hope for is that you put the skills you've learned to good use," Peri said with a chuckle. "And I don't doubt that you will, son."

"Thanks, Peri," Clarkent said softly. He hoped he could emerge victorious from his tilt with Sir Tempos. If he didn't, there was no telling what would happen to him.

"Remember, when you sword-fight, do not aim to kill. Killing would turn the crowd against you. Your blade isn't properly blunted, so you'll have to be careful."

"Don't worry," Clarkent told him. "I don't intend to kill anyone." He just hoped his opponent didn't intend to kill *him*.

***

As Clarkent rode Phantom up to the area where his joust against Sir Tempos was to be held, his nervousness level immediately increased. There were people everywhere.

Fortunately, Clarkent's mount seemed unfazed by the large numbers of people. Phantom marched ahead without the slightest hint of trepidation, moving among the parting members of the crowd as Clarkent guided him forward. They passed into the list field, where Sir Tempos was waiting for them.

Sir Tempos was decked out in the royal colors, as was his great black mount. The horse even had two metal spikes on its head, which gave it a surprisingly sinister appearance.

Clarkent tore his eyes away from the formidable pair and brought Phantom around to face the Regent.

"So, the illustrious Black Knight has chosen to show his helmet here after all," the Regent commented in a voice oily with authority. His voice carried easily to Sir Tempos and Clarkent, making the latter more nervous than he already was.

As Regent Alexander began speaking to the crowd, Clarkent was too caught up in his own worries to pay him any attention. Jousting could be dangerous. What if he was killed and his identity revealed? What if he lost and Gawain had come to the tournament? Would the younger boy be ashamed to learn his friend was the Black Knight? And worse--what would the princess think of him?

And then Sir Tempos was moving his horse to one side of the list field, and Clarkent hastily, if a bit belatedly, cued Phantom to take him to the opposite end from his opponent.

"I shall look forward to knocking you to the ground," Sir Tempos called to him, a sneer evident in his voice, muffled though it was by his helmet.

Clarkent refused to rise to the bait, knowing he needed all his wits about him if he was going to get out of this intact.

"I hope you're ready, Phantom," he murmured to his horse, lightly patting his neck.

The horse shook his head in response, his eyes focused straight ahead on the list field.

And then the signal was given, and Clarkent was charging forward at full speed, his lance pointed straight ahead unwaveringly. He shifted the lance to hit the center of Sir Tempos's chest, bracing himself in preparation for a blow from his opponent.

And then both lances struck. The crack of splintering wood filled the air, and Clarkent gasped at the pressure in his chest as the plate armor pushed up against him, nearly knocking him off. He found himself wishing he *had* asked Peri to get him jousting armor--his armor was almost too heavy for him to balance properly.

A thudding noise came to his ears as Phantom continued rushing by, and he twisted to see that Sir Tempos had fallen off his horse. A feeling of triumph came over him, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Come fight me like a man!" Sir Tempos growled as he got to his feet. He pulled out a sword and readied his stance for battle.

Clarkent took in a deep breath and brought Phantom to a stop. He dismounted and unsheathed his sword. He didn't want to fight, but this was part of it.

Their weapons crashed together in a flash of light.

"Your sword is impressive," Sir Tempos told him a low voice, "but we'll see if your arms can match it."

***

Loisette watched the sword-fight from her seat beside Alexander. The two knights moved nimbly across the field, parrying and slashing and never faltering. Their feet seemed to glide across the ground as they moved, and their swords gleamed in the bright sun. Though she had believed the Black Knight a coward, he seemed to be holding his own. Maybe he was more impressive than she had realized.

And then she saw a glint in the sunlight and squinted with a frown.

***

Clarkent gasped as a sudden pain flared in his left side.

"Aww, can the Black Knight not take a measly little dagger?" Sir Tempos sneered.

It took a second for Clarkent to recover from the realization that the other knight had used a weapon that wasn't supposed to be allowed in this fight. But then he pushed the other knight backward with his sword, causing him to withdraw the thin dagger in the process. The weapon had been thrust up beneath the tassets hanging by Clarkent's legs, and it had slipped through a hole in his mail and embedded itself pretty deeply. But now that the dagger was out of him, the blood was free to flow, and he had no way to stop it, as the wound was beneath his armor.

He threw a quick glance over at the umpires, who appeared not to have noticed the dagger, which had quickly been hidden. Tempos had waited for a moment where his illegal action would be hidden by the positioning of their bodies, so Clarkent would be getting no help from that quarter. Of course, there was always the possibility that the ones who were supposed to watch for foul play had been told to turn a blind eye to whatever Tempos did. Regardless, Clarkent knew he was on his own.

Favoring his left side, he guided their sword-fight toward Phantom. Every move he made caused him to wince, but he nonetheless continued, looking for an opening. Finally, with a flurry of movement, he forced Tempos back several steps, and then he leapt up onto Phantom.

The horse sprang forward at his prodding, and they raced out of the list field amid the gasps of the crowd. The armor and mail that was meant to protect him pushed and pinched at his wound, and he stifled a groan as Phantom galloped forward. He put a hand up between his tassets and under his armor, and his armored fingers came away wet with blood.

***

Chapter 25: The Winds of Change

When Peri finally found Clarkent, he was slumped forward on Phantom, who was wandering the forest without direction from his master. Clarkent gave him a weak greeting, but he seemed too enveloped in his own pain to truly guide Phantom, so the magician took both horse and rider to the cave hidden nearby. Peri couldn't help but think Clarkent fortunate that he hadn't been harmed more than he was by the conniving knight Tempos. This jousting match had been even more dangerous than a normal one.

Inside the cave, Peri helped Clarkent take off his heavy armor, and then he laid the boy on the ground. Clarkent groaned a little but was otherwise quiet. As Peri tended to the young man, he kept up a quiet one-sided conversation.

"You've lost more blood than I would like, but you'll be okay. You're lucky, son, that you have old Peri to help you. Did you know I'm called Peregrine the White because I can only do white magic? That means I can't do magic that hurts people. The stories that have built up about my power have mostly been spread to scare enemies of the crown. In fact, most magicians aren't as powerful as they like to think they are. Ours is a dying art, I'm afraid. But maybe it's for the best."

***

Clarkent found the magician's talk soothing. It gave him something to drift along with as Peri worked to heal his side and ease his pain. He stared upward, watching as light from the eternal flame danced on the ceiling of the cave. If he listened carefully, he could hear Phantom eating something, no doubt utterly unaffected by the events of the day.

But Clarkent's head was full of what had happened. And finally, he said softly, "I was stupid to go."

Peri smiled down at him. He seemed to be glad that Clarkent was now talking. "If you think that, why did you go?" the magician asked.

Clarkent closed his eyes. Maybe he would have been fast enough to dodge Sir Tempos's dagger if he had been wearing jousting armor--maybe things would have ended differently if he had made the decision to participate in time that he could be properly prepared. "I couldn't stand the thought that everyone would think so badly of the Black Knight," he admitted. "I didn't want anyone to think the Black Knight a coward." He had felt that perhaps it could destroy all he'd been fighting for—but maybe he'd just done that himself.

"What you did out there will be talked about for a while," Peri told him kindly, though Clarkent couldn't take comfort in his words. "You managed to knock him off while also splintering your lance--it was a good hit."

Clarkent gave a bitter laugh and shook his head, opening his eyes. "I ran away, Peri." He really was a coward like his friends had said, wasn't he? "He stabbed me, and I ran away."

"People will remember the full match," Peri told him. "Surely a few people were able to see what he did to you. And besides, Sir Tempos has not often been unhorsed. You did well for your first joust, so don't try to convince yourself otherwise. Now, try sitting up."

Clarkent slowly did as Peri had suggested. He touched his side in wonder--it wasn't bleeding any longer. He still felt sore, but he was obviously a whole lot better than he had been when he left the list fields. "I need to go back to the stable before I'm really missed."

"They'll think you snuck away to the joust," Peri pointed out, "but you're right--it won't be good for you to be gone for too long. Can you walk?"

Clarkent nodded and got to his feet without too much trouble. "I should be all right. Thanks for your help, Peri. I think I'll probably give the Black Knight a rest for a few days until I get completely better."

"That's a good idea," Peri agreed. "There is only so much I can do with herbs and magic. You have to let your body take care of the rest. Now, let me look at your side once more before you leave."

***

When Clarkent returned to the stable, he immediately set to work. He had lost some time with the tilt, and he didn't want to seem as if he were shirking his duties. Seeing as there was still a lot of activity around the castle due to the joust with Sir Tempos, it was best to look busy. Most Nobles disliked idleness in servants.

As he worked, it was all he could do to keep a blank expression. Though the magic had healed him, he felt a sort of tightness in his side. Peri had told him that part of the reason was because the body still remembered the wound. Clarkent wasn't sure if he believed that, but he wasn't dying, so that was all he cared about.

But as he worked, he found himself thinking not about the tilt anymore ... but about the princess. He still couldn't believe she had agreed to meet with him on her big night--and he couldn't wait to give her his gifts. At least ... he thought he wanted to give her both the book and the necklace. He wasn't entirely sure, though. Would it be strange for him to give her two presents? And was the necklace too intimate a gift?

Both the necklace and book were personal, catering to the princess specifically. But there was just something different about giving royalty a piece of jewelry. But as he thought of it around her neck, he knew he really wanted to do this for her.

When she was queen, he probably wouldn't ever be able to do anything like this again.

***

When Loisette entered the stable in her Gawain clothes, she was brimming with news about the tilt. "Clarkent!" she exclaimed. "Did you see it? Did you see the tilt?"

"N-no," he denied, not looking away from the horse he was wisping with straw.

"The Black Knight actually knocked Sir Tempos off his horse!" she told him. "And then they fought with their swords on the ground!"

Clarkent turned to look at her, and she frowned as she noticed him wince. It looked like he was favoring his left side. "Are you all right?" she asked him in concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said dismissively. "I guess the Black Knight wasn't as scared to come as you thought, huh?"

"I guess not," she agreed with some reluctance. She stared at her friend for a few seconds, thinking there was something a little odd about how he was acting, but then she dismissed the notion. "You should have seen when their lances struck--it was *amazing*. Both of them split!"

He turned back to continue grooming the horse, as if he wasn't interested, but she was just able to see a small smile tugging at his face.

***

Clarkent, trying to hide a smile, realized this might be the best time to ask Gawain about his opinion of the Black Knight. "Why do you hate him so much?"

"Who?" Gawain asked with a frown.

"The Black Knight." He turned to look at his friend. "Is it because you thought he was a coward?"

Gawain shook his head. "That's not it. It's the stories I've heard about him."

"What stories?" Clarkent asked earnestly. "What have you heard about him?"

"For instance, he has attacked the guards of the forest more than once," Gawain pointed out. "Those men are just doing their duty."

Clarkent resisted the urge to say that he hadn't *attacked* the forest guards per se. He had just kept them from hurting desperate people who went to the forest to find food for their families. "What else have you heard?" he forced himself to ask calmly.

Gawain crossed his arms. "He's kidnapped Assigned servants."

Clarkent's face darkened. He had with James's help found a few Assigned servants who were being treated abusively--much like the girl Ayma whom he and Gawain had discovered in a bush--and he had helped them escape. Peri had taken care of the rest. "And?" Clarkent asked, his frustration mounting at Gawain's one-sided view of the Black Knight.

"He stole a ring from Sir Naigel."

It was all Clarkent could do to keep his face blank. That *man* had taken away a gold ring from a poor girl whom he'd found sobbing underneath a tree. That ring had been all she had left of her mother. Its value to the girl had rested not in its expensive nature but in its sentimental value. Clarkent had restored it to its proper owner without a hint of remorse.

"By this reckoning, the Black Knight's sins *are* heavy," Clarkent murmured to himself. He wanted to counter Gawain's claims--wanted to tell him the truth of what had happened--but it was dangerous for him to claim knowledge he should not have, and so he remained silent.

But though he now knew Gawain disliked the Black Knight for false reasons, it still hurt to think about the boy's opinion of him.

***

The next day was the day before the ball.

Servants scurried around frantically all over the castle, preparing for the big event--cleaning, decorating, planning.

Alexander sat on the throne, mired in thought. The day after the ball would be the princess's coronation. But he was feeling strangely displeased about it.

The princess was in a bad mood. He had gone to talk to her, to ascertain how she was feeling about the fact that she would be queen in two days ...

"I do not know why she snapped at me," Alexander murmured. The princess mystified him--he could not always predict what mood she would be in, and sometimes she spoke with a fiery passion that initially surprised him but now intrigued him. Yet her mood of late had been different--tinged more with grouchiness rather than the respect she usually gave him.

Tempos, who was standing beside him, heard what he had said and correctly guessed the object of his thoughts. "Oh, you know how princesses are," the knight commented. "The smallest vegetable under their mattresses make them cranky."

"I suppose you are right," Alexander admitted. But he was unable to shake the sense that something was off. Why would Princess Loisette be anything but thrilled that she was about to be handed the reins of the kingdom? She was about to become *queen*. Did that not please her? Was she not attracted by power?

***

Loisette sat in her room alone, having asked Mishal to give her a little time to herself. There was too much for her to think about, and she couldn't stand hearing about Arneld's exploits anymore that day. Not when she had so much on her mind.

She couldn't believe she was about to be queen. Her whole life was going to change--and she hated it.

She wouldn't be able to sneak out as Gawain to be with Clarkent anymore--she would be too busy with her royal duties. She would be a woman, and she would have to put all childish cares behind her. It wasn't fair! She had never desired this. No one had ever asked her what she wanted.

A rapping at her shutters caught her attention, and she moved to open them. In flew James, who went to perch carefully on a chair.

"***Hi, James,***" Loisette greeted, surprised but pleased that he had come.

"***Greetings, Your Highness,***" he returned. "***Peri told me to check on you. How are you doing?***"

"***I'm glad to see you,***" she admitted with a small smile. "***I'm beginning to feel so ... closed in.***"

"***Wishing this wasn't your birthright?***" he guessed. "***Overwhelmed by the thought that you're going to be queen soon?***"

"***Yeah. It's ... strange how everything is going to change. I guess it's finally all sinking in.***"

"***You do not have to give up everything,***" James told her. "***Even a queen gets to have a life.***"

"***But not the life I want,***" she said sadly. As if the shackles of womanhood weren't tight enough ...

"***Maybe you'll be happier than you think,***" the falcon said, trying to be positive.

She tilted her head and looked at him wistfully. "***Are you sad that you are no longer human? There are so many troublesome things about being human ... but I guess there are a lot of good things, too. At least--as long as you aren't royalty.***"

The bird lifted his wings a little before setting them back down. "***I used to be sad, Your Highness ... But I'm not anymore. I'm accustomed to my fate now--flying is certainly a perk of this body. And besides, there's no point in being sad--Peri's magic cannot help me. There is no sense in wishing for something I cannot have.***"

A pang of sorrow shot through Loisette at that. Was it really pointless to make wishes for the impossible? Or if someone hoped hard enough, could the impossible sometimes spring into being?

She gave the bird a small smile as an idea occurred to her. "***Will a kiss from a princess bring you back?***" she asked hopefully.

James made a sound that was almost like laughter. "***While I would like that, no, I don't think it would. It isn't as if I am a prince hunting for my one true love.***" He lowered his head. "***But don't worry, Your Highness. Things have a way of working out.***"

Loisette found her thoughts drawn to Clarkent. An idle thought flitted across her consciousness--would it be possible for things to work out between a stableboy and a princess? Could that ever happen?

But she quickly dismissed the idea. It was silly. And besides, she wasn't interested in him in that way. So ... why was she even wondering about it? She didn't know.

But one thing that she did know ... was that she wanted to have one more adventure with him before she became queen.

She associated Avalon Lake with memories of that awful fight between her and Clarkent. But what if they went and explored the forest behind it? Maybe she could make those memories metamorphose into ones that were more positive. Maybe they could have one last triumph together.

She walked over to the Peregrine Falcon and placed her hands on the sides of his head. Then she bent down and kissed his feathered crown. "***Thanks for talking to me, James. I feel a little better now.***"

The bird--for he hadn't transformed, though she had secretly hoped he would--craned his neck back to look at her. "***Anytime, Your Highness.***"

***

Chapter 26: Into the Woods

After talking to James, Loisette spun into her Gawain outfit. Then she hurried to the stable.

Her mind was already buzzing with thoughts of Avalon Lake and the forest behind it. She had never been behind the lake before, and suddenly she wanted desperately to go. If the kingdom was to be hers, she should know the land more, shouldn't she? What if there were hidden caves in the woods or even a secret river? People were always warned away from the forest, so how did they know what was to be found inside it?

The lake was very large, and the left side of it was supposed to be heavily forested, whereas the right side of it extended beyond the border between Metropolita and the Barbarian Kingdom. She knew going to the woods would be dangerous, but she wanted to see it for herself. There was no telling what they would find! What if there were even people living there? How different would it be from the royal forest?

Inside the stable, Loisette found Clarkent was—as always--working. "Clarkent!" she greeted eagerly.

And he turned and smiled. "Hey, Gawain." He was oblivious to what she was about to ask him.

Grinning widely, she inquired casually, "Are you ready for another adventure?"

The other boy's expression soured. "Gawain, maybe we should leave the adventures alone for a while--"

"Please," she begged. "This'll be the ... the last one." Those last few words were hard to get out. But it was true—she would have to leave their times together behind her when she became queen. When she met him as the princess after her birthday ball, she needed to tell him he couldn't see Gawain anymore. She could tell him that Gawain was turning seventeen and was too sad to say goodbye. At least there would be a kernel of truth in it. *She* was turning seventeen, and she would be sad to say goodbye. The thought of it was still enough to make her sick. She wasn't ready to be queen.

"What do you want to do?" he asked with a sigh.

Pulling her thoughts back to her current mission and away from the misery that loomed before her, Loisette told him, "I want to go to Avalon Lake and explore the other side of it."

Clarkent grimaced, and Loisette suspected he was remembering the last time they were at the lake. The fight had hurt them both. "It's too far," he told her. "Besides, what if we ran into trouble? Remember what happened with the ogres?"

"We'll take horses," she told him, having already thought about such a protest to her plan. "Most monsters are slow."

"But not all of them," he returned with narrowed eyes.

"Clarkent, I really want to do this," she said softly. What would she do if he actually denied her this time? "I told you--this will be the last one. Can't we go on an adventure one more time? Please."

He stared at her, indecision evident in his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat, and she began to fear that this time he would not agree to her plan. Then he lowered his head, and she knew she had won, and a sense of relief washed over her.

"All right," he conceded, looking none too happy about his choice to placate her. "Just give me a little while to work on stuff here. Then I'll ask Dwayne if I can leave early and make it up later tonight and early tomorrow. And I also need to--to go get something."

"Great!" she exclaimed, hugging him and ignoring the weird look he gave her. She was curious as to what he was going to retrieve, but she wouldn't push for the answer. Not when he had given her what she wanted.

Instead, she turned to look at the horses, pleased with what had just transpired, and her eyes fell on Penelope Grace. Smiling to herself as something occurred to her, Loisette walked over to the horse.

"***Hey,***" she told the horse softly. "***I want to ask you something.***"

"***What is it?***"

"***Would you ... be willing to go on an adventure with me?***" Loisette asked. She knew she might as well be direct about it.

"***You wish to be like your dam,***" the horse commented with a foresight that was surprising.

"***Yes,***" Loisette admitted, clasping her hands together. "***I feel like maybe this will ... will help me feel closer to her somehow. I don't want her to be lost to me.***"

"***You can't bring her back,***" Penelope Grace pointed out gently.

"***I know,***" Loisette said, drawing in a ragged breath. Nothing could do that. Not even magic. "***But she can live on in me, can't she?***"

The palfrey lowered her head. "***She already lives on in you. You do not have to do this to know that. But I will go with you. Perhaps these old bones have an adventure left in them after all.***"

Loisette grinned, rubbing the horse's neck. "***Thank you.***"

But Penelope Grace didn't reply. She simply took in a mouthful of hay and began to chew.

***

When Clarkent was finally ready to go--the object he had gone to retrieve was the sword he used as the Black Knight, for he had regretted its absence at the ogre cave and didn't want to feel quite so helpless again--they began arguing again.

"It's not a good idea," he said firmly. If he were a horse, he might have stomped a foot; as it was, he crossed his arms and gave his friend an imperious look.

"But I *want* to take Penelope Grace!" Gawain exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"She used to belong to Queen Ellena," Clarkent pointed out in irritation. Didn't the boy realize servants shouldn't go around taking the personal horses of royalty into danger? "It's not a good idea. Besides, you know how cranky that horse gets. She'd just as soon bite you as carry you."

Gawain trailed his fingers down the palfrey's neck. "You don't get cranky, do you?" he said, as if speaking to the horse, though the slight smirk on his face showed that his words were meant for Clarkent's ears.

"She won't let you ride her," Clarkent said, his voice matter-of-fact.

"And I say she will," Gawain returned stubbornly. "Look, if there are any problems, then I'll stop riding her. How's that?"

Clarkent stared intensely at him. It was true that the horse—for reasons Clarkent couldn't comprehend--appeared to act congenial enough (if "congenial" could be applied to any horse, much less *that* one) with Gawain. And it wasn't like anyone else would ever come in wanting to ride her. As far as Clarkent knew, only Queen Ellena had been interested, and she wasn't around anymore.

Grumbling, Clarkent conceded with great reluctance, "Fine. You can ride her. But the second anything goes wrong with her, we're coming straight back, and we aren't going to try this adventure again. It'll be over completely. Deal?"

Gawain nodded, his expression glad. "Deal."

"But we have to ask Dwayne first," Clarkent told him.

"All right," agreed Gawain.

***

They got permission from Dwayne--who wasn't told specifically where they were going--and Clarkent even was allowed to take Esroh Repus. They left the Riding Stable on their mounts and began their trek to Avalon Lake, Gawain racing ahead like an excited kid while Clarkent trailed behind, trying to dismiss his misgivings.

Gawain halted Penelope Grace--who had, to Clarkent's astonishment, not given her young rider any problems at all—and twisted in the saddle to look at Clarkent. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," Clarkent confirmed, bringing Esroh Repus up. He stared out at the lake for a few seconds, watching as a breeze caused ripples to break out on the water. He gently touched the sheath at his side, feeling a small comfort in its weight. When Gawain had asked him where he got the sword, he had claimed to have found it on a dead man. Though the two boys had practiced sword-fighting with sticks countless times, they had never used real weapons, but Clarkent felt there was no fear in letting his friend see the sword now. Since the Black Knight had been around for a while, it wouldn't be too suspicious for him to have a new sword. And the "dead man" excuse was enough to divert Gawain's interest.

But though Clarkent knew he needed the sword for safety's sake, he didn't understand what it was about danger that appealed to Gawain. Why exactly did Gawain want to go do this?

Aloud, he asked his friend, "Why do you like to adventure so much?"

***

The stableboy's question caused Loisette to look away for a moment. She couldn't tell him the truth ... She couldn't tell him she felt she was locked into a life where she had to always do what was expected of her and never what she wanted to do. She couldn't explain how doing something like this--even in disguise--made her feel alive. Made her feel free, even if just for a brief time. Made her feel like she wasn't someone's puppet, moving her arms and legs in time with their wishes for her.

Instead, she just told him, "It's fun. Don't be such a spoilsport. Now, come on!" And she lightly kicked Penelope Grace into a trot--riding astride was so much easier than riding sidesaddle and having to deal with that darn whip!--and began the journey around the lake.

When they finally reached the forest, she felt a shiver of anticipation creep down her spine. "We're here, Clarkent!"

"It's just a forest," he said, sounding almost irked with her enthusiasm. He obviously didn't want to be there. For some reason, that just made her smile.

As Penelope Grace moved forward, Loisette looked around them, feeling a sense of awe overtake her as the wind--stronger now than it had been earlier--shook the leaves and branches on the trees. "No, it's different," she told him as they moved deeper into the woods. "These trees are larger than any I've ever seen. Don't you feel that sense of power surrounding us? It's almost like the trees are magic ... "

"Maybe they are," he murmured, speaking just loud enough that she could hear him.

That thought was almost enough for her to suggest they turn around, but she strengthened her resolve and continued onward. It was silly to be frightened of something as mundane as a tree.

As they journeyed, Loisette kept hoping they would happen upon a cave or an abandoned cottage or the remnants of a centuries-old fight or something else exciting, but all they came across were more trees. The wind began to pick up, and the branches above them seemed to thicken and press inward as their horses walked on. Penelope Grace started getting jumpy, pulling on her bit and shaking her head.

"***Are you all right?***" Loisette whispered.

"***Something isn't right,***" the horse told her. She was obviously afraid.

And then, an eerie noise drifted to them on the air, causing Loisette's spine to tingle. Penelope Grace's ears twitched, and her body seemed to tense.

"What was that?" Loisette asked, glancing at Clarkent, her throat tightening.

"It sounded like a howl," he said grimly, the fear she felt reflected in his eyes as well. "We should go. It's not safe here."

"I think you're right," she agreed, tugging at Penelope Grace's reins to turn her around. The horse obliged readily, eager to leave that place.

Esroh Repus also reversed direction at Clarkent's prodding, and he broke out into a trot.

"Come on," Clarkent called back to her.

Penelope Grace trotted after the other horse, and Loisette's pulse sped up. Then she heard a slight panting noise and twisted to look behind her. Four panting Garms were coming straight toward them, their eyes glowing red in the darkness.

Garms looked like mutated black wolves, their backs hunched, their eyes red and glowing, and their fur matted together. They were brutal beasts who, unlike wolves, never showed any fear of humans. She'd read about them and seen pictures of them, but she had never been even close to a real one. They were terrifying.

Penelope Grace surged forward, throwing Loisette backward. As she reestablished her balance on the horse, she yelled ahead to Clarkent, "Faster!" The brutal beasts obviously had blood on their minds.

But Esroh Repus seemed to have realized the danger, as he was already going faster than he was before. His rider threw a look backward and widened his eyes at the sight of the vicious creatures behind them. "They're real?" his voice flew back to Loisette.

The horses practically flew through the forest as they attempted to escape their pursuers. But then as Loisette threw a gaze down, she saw a Garm prepare to leap up at Penelope Grace's flank. Without thinking, Loisette turned in the saddle and kicked, hitting the wolflike creature and knocking it to the ground as it yelped.

Penelope Grace lunged forward, an image of desperation flashing into Loisette's head from the horse.

"***I'm so sorry,***" Loisette whispered, her eyes resting on the back of her mount's head before returning to the Garms. And then another was jumping up, its fangs slick with saliva and its eyes rolling in hunger. It latched onto her shoe, and she shrieked, shaking her foot and causing the beast to hit Penelope Grace's side and release its hold.

And then it happened. Penelope Grace, who was by no means a young horse, stumbled. The Garms behind her pressed their advantage, biting at her legs. The horse collapsed.

The momentum flung Loisette forward and off the horse, and as she closed her eyes and prepared to hit the ground, she distantly thought she could hear Clarkent shout at her.

***

Chapter 27: Something Lost, Something Gained

Clarkent wasted no time in turning Esroh Repus around and rushing to where Gawain lay on the ground. The horse was hard to control, as his animal instincts were telling him to flee, but Clarkent managed to guide him nonetheless, drawing on his years of experience.

His left hand holding on to the saddle tightly, Clarkent leaned over the horse and swiped at one of the snarling wolflike creatures with his sword. It jumped back and growled at him, and he slashed at it one more time to make it retreat further. Then he sheathed the weapon and grabbed with one hand at the dazed Gawain, who was shakily standing up.

His blood froze as a scream pierced the air.

***

"***Save me!***" shrieked Penelope Grace as the Garms jumped on her in a frenzy. Her shrill cry was nothing less than heart-wrenching.

Loisette, determined to save her equine friend, struggled to free herself from Clarkent's grip. The young man was pulling her up onto the saddle, but she squirmed and tried to push his hands away from her. "Let me go!" she shouted adamantly. "I have to save her!"

"You can't save her," he told her in a low but sympathetic voice. He had succeeded in placing her on the saddle despite her efforts, but he was finding it difficult to keep her there.

"Use your sword to help her," she sobbed. "You have to go to her!"

"***Help, Princess!***" cried the dying horse again. "***Please!***"

Images from Penelope Grace of bloodthirsty Garms filled Loisette's head, and she nearly blacked out in horror. The pain--the blood--the cruel eyes--

"Save her!" Loisette demanded desperately, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I can't," the stableboy whispered, his voice full of pain as he stared down at the horse. "Look at her legs--at least one is broken, Gawain. She can't leave this place. We have to leave without her. I can't--I can't do anything to help her. I don't--I don't know how."

"Then give her a quick death," she begged, tears streaming down her face. "I can't take her s-screams. She's in so much p-pain."

***

Esroh Repus was getting more difficult to handle, but Gawain had stopped struggling, so Clarkent was nonetheless able to maintain a small shred of control.

His head filled with Gawain's plea and his own heart's desires, Clarkent took in a deep breath. The horse's screams stabbed his soul just as much as his friend's.

"All right," he said. "Make sure Esroh Repus doesn't leave or get hurt." They would need the horse to escape this place alive.

After transferring the reins to Gawain, Clarkent dismounted and unsheathed his sword. His face was grim, and his heart was heavy.

One of the beasts looked at him, its mouth red with blood, and then it leapt at him.

Clarkent dodged the attack--wincing at the discomfort it caused him in the area where Tempos had hurt him--and rushed over to Penelope Grace. He waved his sword in the air, swiping at a few of the creatures and making them back off. They stared at him warily for a few seconds, uncertain what to do, and that was all he needed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the horse as he drew his sword across the jugular vein in her throat. Her death cry filled the air as he rose to his feet, and he couldn't bear to look at her again.

A pair of the massive Garms, seeing him as a threat, jumped at him, and he slashed his sword downward--wounding at least one of them, perhaps fatally, if its loud yelp was any indication--before running to Esroh Repus. One of the Garms leapt at the horse, which kicked out with a powerful leg. Clarkent jumped on the mount from behind. Gawain was on Esroh Repus still, sobbing as he tried to control him, but once Clarkent was in place, Gawain finally let Esroh Repus flee.

As they galloped away from the now-feasting monsters, Gawain mumbled in a broken fashion, "You can--can take the--the reins now."

With a nod that Gawain couldn't see, Clarkent reached his arms around the younger boy and grabbed hold of the reins. Then Gawain did something that was both surprising and confusing. He twisted and buried his head in Clarkent's shirt.

Clarkent frowned down at him but said nothing. He just continued to ensure Esroh Repus was taking the same path they had used to enter the forest. The Garms had no interest in them now. Not since they had a horse to devour.

***

When they finally left the forest, Clarkent slowed Esroh Repus down, mumbling that the horse didn't need to overexert himself.

Loisette sat quietly on the saddle, the side of her face still resting on Clarkent's chest as she let the tears flow. What she had just experienced was one of the worst things that had ever happened to her.

She could still hear Penelope Grace's screams echoing in her mind as the horse begged her for help. She hadn't been able to offer any assistance. She hadn't been able to fight off the Garms.

What would her mother have thought of her?

How could Loisette have brought Penelope Grace into danger? She had gone about this all wrong. She shouldn't have been actively seeking danger. It was stupid and childish, and it had cost Penelope Grace her life. She had been an *idiot*.

She wiped a little at her face, sorry she was getting Clarkent's shirt wet, but she couldn't help her tears. Why would anyone go *looking* for adventures? Why had she been so stupid?

Though she had been terribly sad when her father had died, this was her first true brush with Death--this was the first time she saw its evil grin and cold black eyes. This was the first time it had taken her heart in a cold fist and squeezed, wrenching out precious drops of her soul. She could never be the same again. No one ever could--not when they had seen Death staring back at them.

She had heard some say that it took a man to transform a girl into a woman. But on that day, she realized it wasn't true. It could just as easily be the sight of a friend thrashing in the throes of agony and being taken away forever. She knew she had become a woman that day. She had put childish adventures behind her. That part of her was gone.

***

Gawain had refused to talk anymore about what happened. After they reached the castle, he had merely muttered a goodbye and left, his face streaked with tears. Clarkent had watched him go, aching to reach out and comfort his friend, but knowing that he was being pushed away. Sometimes, people just needed to be left alone. If Gawain didn't want to talk, then Clarkent wouldn't bother him.

He went into the Riding Stable, numb. He would need to clean his blood-stained sword after seeing to the scratches on Esroh Repus. He wished he'd only had the blood of those Garms on his sword--not the blood of his horse friend. But without his Black Knight armor, he was too vulnerable. He couldn't have done anything. And knowing the depth of his helplessness hurt so much. He was supposed to be able to save others. He knew Peri had told him he couldn't save everyone, but it was hard to look at it that way.

At least Esroh Repus was all right, he reflected as he tended to horse's minor wounds. The horse's ears flicked as someone approached, and Clarkent turned.

Dwayne stood there, his experienced eyes looking at Esroh Repus and then the stall belonging to Penelope Grace.

Though he felt punishment was hovering over him--perhaps he would be told he could no longer be a stablehand because of what had happened--Clarkent broke down and told Dwayne everything. He told him about the forest and the Garms and what had happened to Penelope Grace and how he and Gawain had fled. He didn't leave anything out.

"I had to slit her throat," he whispered in a choked voice, unable to forget that awful feeling that had come over him as he took his friend's life. He had almost always been annoyed with the horse--but he had liked her, despite all her stubbornness. She had been a challenge of sorts; she had made his life at the stable more interesting. And now she was gone.

Dwayne stared at him with a perceptive expression. Finally, he said slowly, "Penelope Grace always did escape her stall frequently. It was only a matter of time until she was killed or stolen. Besides, with King Samuel dead, she has few mourners."

Clarkent gazed back at him in confusion. Then he realized what the Stable Master was doing. He was giving Clarkent an out--absolving him of responsibility. Clarkent wouldn't be losing his job. That, at least, was safe.

Clarkent couldn't help it. He hugged the man. Perhaps Gawain was rubbing off on him.

Dwayne grunted at the sudden pressure but then chuckled. "All right."

Clarkent pulled back and smiled slightly at the older man's expression. "Thank you."

"Just tend those wounds well," Dwayne told him before walking away.

As Clarkent turned back to Esroh Repus, he wondered if perhaps he could have done more for Penelope Grace. But the logical part of him pointed out that she had been as good as dead anyway once she broke her leg. Still--he could've insisted they take a different horse. But then ... maybe that horse would have broken its leg. There was no way of knowing. But that didn't mean he missed her any less.

At least she had lived a long and spoiled life. She might have been cranky and high maintenance, but he would miss her deeply. It was hard to believe she was gone.

He rested his forehead briefly against Esroh Repus. Every second was precious. Maybe sometimes it was worth taking a risk—though there had been nothing wise about what he and Gawain had done today.

But he might not even be breathing tomorrow, so he needed to get everything out of today that he could. And one thing he wanted was to give the princess a gift before she became queen. That was something he wanted deeply, though he wasn't completely sure why.

But as he thought about his gift again, he felt troubled. He still didn't know which item to give her--the pegasus necklace ... or the book about Queen Laural? Or both?

*Was* the necklace inappropriate? He wished he knew more about court customs. He could ask Peri, but ... this was private. He didn't want to talk to either Peri or Gawain about it.

He rubbed his side. He was still sore from his tilt wound, and he thought the events earlier that day might have set him back a bit with his healing. The wound wasn't going to reopen any time soon--at least, not as far as he knew--but it still didn't feel good. How long would a body remember a wound, anyway?

The next day was the ball. Was the princess hoping she would find some handsome prince to marry there? Would she forget about their scheduled rendezvous?

If he saw her and told her that Penelope Grace was gone, would she cry? Would she regret the passing of her mother's horse? Would it be best for him not to say anything until she noticed?

After tending to Esroh Repus's scrapes, Clarkent went over to stand in front of Penelope Grace's stall. There was no telling how many times that stall had to be rebuilt. The horse had hated being confined, and in hindsight, Clarkent couldn't blame her. Maybe some horses weren't meant for the closed-in life that other horses took to so easily. Maybe he should have sympathized with the horse instead of being annoyed with her. Maybe she had changed after Queen Ellena's death. Of course, he hadn't been at the stable long enough to know whether that was true or not.

But he did know he would miss her.

***

Chapter 28: Regaled with Regalia

It was the day of Princess Loisette's birthday ball.

She had spent the morning in misery, tormenting herself over what had happened to Penelope Grace. Horrible though it had been, she was glad that Clarkent had been able to end the horse's suffering quickly--she wasn't sure she could have done it. And as she thought of the stable, she regretted that she hadn't told him goodbye as Gawain. After what had happened, it felt too cold to give him a goodbye through the princess rather than through her guise of errand boy. She would need to go see him one last time as Gawain. She wanted him to remember his friend just as fondly as she would remember him; she couldn't make their last meeting together end on such a sad note. She had hoped that this adventure with him would give them both some wonderful final memories of their friendship--instead, it had turned into a tragedy. If she hadn't been so stupid, Penelope Grace would have still been alive.

She went to the library, hoping to bury her nose in a book for an hour, but Herbie was there, and he picked up on her melancholy without any difficulty.

"Your Highness," he said gently, "is something wrong?"

She simply shrugged. She didn't feel like talking to the librarian about what had happened, even if she could. She didn't feel like talking to anyone about it.

"I do hate when you look so sad, Your Highness," Herbie said, a worried look in his eyes. He really was a kind man. He was Loisette's favorite tutor, and he shared her love of reading. She knew she would trust him with her life.

Loisette looked away for a moment and brought her eyes back to him. He had a chain pinned to the front of his tunic, the other end of which disappeared into a pocket. She nodded at the chain, wanting to distract him from his current line of questioning. "Have you had any luck with your time-teller?"

Herbie glanced down at the chain and pulled out from his pocket the large flat circle at the end of it. The circle had numbers on it and a pair of long sticks. "Not yet, I'm afraid," he told her. "But I am hopeful that I shall succeed soon."

Herbie was somewhat of an inventor, and he liked to tinker with things. Most people knew the time by listening to the ringing of bells or the shouting of town criers or even looking at sundials, but he had determined that he would make a time-teller that wouldn't require the assistance of the sun. Loisette believed that if such a thing was possible without magic, Herbie would be the one to figure it out.

"I hope you do," she told him sincerely. With a heavy sigh, she went and picked out a gruesome book about a battle waged centuries before. Then she told Herbie goodbye and disappeared to her room with it.

She didn't read much of the book, though. She was still too sad about what happened with Penelope Grace.

Her mood might have remained dismal for the rest of the day, but Aliss had been flitting around the castle so cheerfully that Loisette couldn't remain drenched in sorrow any longer. So she just said a small prayer for the horse and began to concentrate on what lay immediately before her, knowing there would be plenty of time in the future to mourn her friend. She would need all her wits about her today. They were celebrating her birthday in the form of a masquerade ball, and everyone would be wearing masks ... except Loisette, the guest of honor, so to speak. But she hated the idea that she would have to guess at everyone's identities, and she was determined to prove herself as discerning as possible. She wouldn't allow the ball to cripple her senses. She would have to use them to her utmost.

Despite her resolve to make sure the day went as well as she could make it, her mood was quickly spoiled when Mishal brought a dress to her.

"What ... is this?" Loisette asked her lady-in-waiting, confused. She stared down at the red and gold clothing, trying not to recoil from it. This was not what she had asked for.

"It's your dress, Your Highness," Mishal said patiently, as if she were talking to a child that refused to eat something deemed "healthy."

Loisette shook her head in denial. "My dress is supposed to be white." She vividly remembered picking out the material, going through bolt after bolt of fabric, feeling utterly disheartened until finally she had rested on a beautiful white she knew would be perfect for her dress. She had been so pleased when talking over what she had wanted with the seamstress, who had even appeared to share in her excitement. To know that all of that had been for nothing ...

"The seamstress said the Regent requested the change," Mishal told her. "He believed the *royal colors* more appropriate."

Loisette stared at the offending garment, the stress of the previous day returning suddenly to her despite her decision to push it away. When she was younger, she would have indulged in a long and brutal temper tantrum about such a change as this. But those childish days were behind her. She would have to wear the red and gold dress without throwing a fit about it. But that didn't mean she had to be happy about it.

***

When Aliss entered the princess's room, she found Loisette standing alone in front of a mirror. The girl--soon to become a woman--was staring at the ill-fitting fabric on her body, picking at the material at her waistline and ruffling her skirt as if to make it fuller. Her discontent was obvious to Aliss. After all, she had known the princess her whole life.

"Your Highness?" ventured Aliss quietly.

The princess turned, her eyes suddenly filling with tears, and then she ran to embrace Aliss.

"What's wrong, Princess?" Aliss asked, stroking Loisette's back soothingly.

"Everything," Loisette whispered. "My life is changing, Aliss. This is the role I'm supposed to play." She pulled at the skirt of her dress. "But I wanted one night to feel ... magical. I thought a white dress would make me feel like ... like a fairy." She lowered her head. "I guess that was stupid."

"Do you not like the dress you're wearing?" Aliss asked softly, though she already knew the answer.

"It's *Alexander's* dress," the girl returned bitterly. "*He* picked it out. Not me."

Aliss stared at the dress. The Regent must have been trying to exert control over the princess through his selection. While Loisette would never look unattractive in anything, the dress was not flattering on her. Of course, the sour expression she was wearing wasn't helping with her overall appearance.

"I was ... meeting someone after the ball," the princess said sadly, her voice so low Aliss wasn't certain she was supposed to hear it.

But the words made something click for Aliss. The princess could never have been called vain, and her unhappiness with the dress wasn't solely related to the Regent's meddling. Loisette was wanting to impress someone specifically, and it wasn't helping that her last night as a princess had gotten off to such a bad start.

Fortunately for Loisette, however, Aliss was the perfect person to fix that.

"You know," Aliss said suddenly, "I don't think that dress suits you." She closed her eyes, fluttering her fingers in the air. Mumbling to herself, she smiled as the air swelled with power around her. The power rose and built, centering itself, and then, suddenly, there was a release.

Aliss opened her eyes and gazed at what was weighing down her hands.

***

Loisette gasped, staring wide-eyed at her old nanny. Aliss was holding a beautiful dress made of both white and sparkling silver material. It seemed ... almost magical. On top of the dress were a pair of matching shoes and a glistening silver coronet which was a hundred times prettier than any Loisette owned. All she managed was an unintelligible noise as she stared at the items.

"This is my birthday gift to you," Aliss told her with a smile, resting the objects on the nearby table.

"How ... how did you do that?" Loisette stammered. She had never seen Aliss use magic before.

"I would think that was obvious," Aliss said, not bothering to hide her amusement. "I'm your fairy godmother."

Loisette stared. "You're ... you're my fairy godmother?" Blinking, she said, "All this time ... "

"I've been trying to look out for you your whole life, Your Highness," Aliss told her. "But it hasn't been easy, especially the past five years or so. There has been ... some other magic surrounding you, though I haven't figured out what exactly."

Loisette swallowed. Aliss was probably referring to her Gawain outfit. Imp must have been powerful indeed if he had been able to make clothes that couldn't be traced by a fairy godmother.

As Loisette gazed at her nanny, she felt a prick of annoyance. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I didn't need to before," Aliss told her. "Fairy godmothers often work best when their true identities are kept secret. Now, I won't be transforming your little mouse friend into a footman, as you don't need one, but this dress should help you feel like a fairy princess."

Loisette let herself relax; she didn't want to be upset with Aliss. So she just gave her a big smile and told her, "Thank you."

***

After Loisette switched dresses, she stood in front of the mirror with Aliss at her side. The new ballgown was strapless, with the form-fitting bodice sparkling brilliantly and a full white skirt attached to it. The shoes had fit perfectly, and Aliss had used surprisingly nimble fingers to put Loisette's hair up with the coronet. A brilliant diamond necklace shined at the princess's neck.

"You look beautiful," Aliss told her, smiling at the rising blush on the princess's cheeks. "You remind me of your mother when she was your age."

"Really?" Loisette asked, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Really," Aliss told her warmly. "I was her fairy godmother, too. I gave you both the gift of speaking with animals."

"You--you knew all this time that I could speak to animals?" The girl looked down sheepishly. "I didn't realize anyone but Peri knew about it."

"I knew the gift was well bestowed when I saw your friendship with that mouse," Aliss told her. "But I hated to support your ability in case it brought your father's displeasure down on you. When Peri told me he was teaching you, I wasn't certain whether I should be pleased or angry--but I finally decided to be glad."

"Well, thank you," Loisette said, sounding a bit shy. "It was a wonderful gift."

"It was my pleasure," Aliss replied. "Your mother seemed to appreciate my present as well." She stared at the princess, recalling the wonderful woman that had been Queen Ellena. "Your mother lives on in you, you know. I just wish she could be here today to see you. She would be so proud."

***

Loisette smiled, a tear gleaming in the corner of her eye. What Aliss had said meant a lot to her.

She only wished she had known her mother--*really* known her. But at least she could talk to someone about her. After all, Aliss would always be able to tell her stories. Fairies could live a long time.

She stared at herself in the mirror, marveling at the change that had come over her. In *Alexander's* dress, she had looked awkward and unappealing. But now ... she felt she could take the whole ballroom on. Perhaps it would be a night to remember.

Yet though her confidence was growing ... her nervousness was growing as well. But her attack of nerves had nothing to do with the masquerade. Instead, it had everything to do with the secret meeting she would have with Clarkent afterward. But why she should be nervous about that, she didn't know. After all, she saw him almost every day.

***

"I'm nervous," Clarkent said to Esroh Repus, stroking the horse's neck. "I'm going to be giving the princess her presents tonight, you know." Figuring that more was ... well, *more*, he had decided to give her both the book and the necklace. He had hidden the former nearby in a pile of fresh hay, as it was too big to carry around, but he had the latter in his pocket. He kept touching the piece of jewelry, wanting to assure himself it was still there. Though he was grateful to Peri for giving him the book, he was more excited about her reaction to the necklace. Would she be glad to finally have a Pegasus?

He continued talking to Esroh Repus--if there was one thing a horse was good at, it was giving the appearance of listening. Sometimes, that was really nice. "Soon, the ball is going to start," Clarkent said. "I have to admit ... I'm sad I can't be there." He would have liked to dance with the princess one last time. That would have really made his night special.

"Perhaps I can help with that," a voice said.

Clarkent twisted and saw that Peri had entered the stable. "Peri," he greeted, getting out of the stall. "What do you mean--you 'can help' me?" He glanced away for a second, nervous that the older man had been listening to him. He was fine with having a horse listen to his private thoughts--but it was a bit different to have a magician do so.

"It must be hard for a young man such as yourself to know there is such a big event going on that you cannot attend," Peri remarked. "So, I think you should go."

Clarkent frowned. It wasn't that easy. "I don't exactly have the clothes for something like that."

Peri waved a hand dismissively. "Every magic user worth his salt knows how to conjure up a set of clothes, son. You'll have a costume fit for a prince if this sorcerer has anything to say about it." Lifting his magician's staff, he whipped it through the air, murmuring something to himself, and then, with a puff of smoke, an outfit materialized in his hands. He draped the individual items--save the blue boots lined with golden thread, which he kept in his hands--over Esroh Repus's stall for Clarkent to look at.

Many of the items were golden--the breeches, the cape, the mask, and the cap, the last item of which Clarkent touched in interest. Peri pointed out helpfully, "The hat will cover your hair and help disguise you even more."

Clarkent nodded in understanding and then turned his attention to the tunic. It was blue and lined with golden thread to match the rest of the outfit. It had a rearing golden dragon in the center of it, and small flames protruded from its mouth. The beast's strength was obvious due to its bulging muscles and fierce expression. As Clarkent stared at it, he commented, "For some reason, it reminds me a little of the royal symbol." That was strange, as the royal symbol was a pegasus, not a dragon.

"Indeed," Peri said with a grunt. "Now, you'd best get dressed."

Clarkent twisted away from the clothes, wincing as he stretched his sore side. "I can't accept this from you--I've ... I've never worn clothes this nice."

"You can, and you will," Peri told him in a no-nonsense tone, a frown etched into his face. "Is your wound still hurting you? Would you like me to look at it again?"

"No," Clarkent told him. "You've already done enough for me. I'll be fine." He moved back to look at the outfit, torn about what to do.

"Just go to the masquerade, son. If you don't, you'll regret it."

Clarkent smiled as Esroh Repus came over to investigate the outfit, and he gently pushed the horse's head away. He couldn't fight the desire anymore. "All right," he conceded. "I'll go."

If he wore clothes like these, then would the princess want to dance with him? Would she see him as someone worthy of attention? He was eager to find out.

***

Chapter 29: Having a Ball

When Clarkent stepped into the castle great hall, he let out a low gasp. He had been there before--occasionally, even servants were allowed to go to royal parties--but the place wasn't like he had known it. It had been utterly transformed into a ballroom.

Though the room was always decorated, now red and gold banners were hung up everywhere. But more impressive than that was the assortment of people in the great hall.

Every color in the rainbow found some sort of representation there that night. Outfits ranged from beautiful to hideous to downright bizarre. Both plain and ornate masks could be seen covering people's faces, some of them decorated with feathers or stripes or patches or intricate designs, whereas others were plain and solid in color. But the face of every person in the room was covered. Every person, that was, except the princess.

It took a few seconds for him to find her, but when he did, his breath caught in his throat. She was absolutely stunning.

He had believed she was beautiful for a long time. There had been no question in his mind that she was a rare treasure. But now, seeing her here, wearing that white dress that made her almost glow, he thought she looked just like an angel.

But she was more than that. He realized almost immediately that she was a woman now. It wasn't just her curves, though he felt his face turning warm when he noticed those. But there was something about the way she held herself--something in the sobriety of her expression--that communicated the change to him. She would be a wonderful queen; he was sure of that. He only wished her stepping into her destiny didn't mean he would lose her. Of course, he reminded himself, she had never truly been his. His hand, shaking a little, made its way into his pocket, where it wrapped fingers around the necklace hidden there, drawing strength from its presence.

The first dance began, and he watched as a man in red and gold glided across the floor with Loisette. Watching them gave him an almost physical pain--he did not like how her partner held her in an almost possessive manner--but he forced himself to ignore the man and keep his eyes on Loisette.

She was graceful and elegant, her movements fluid and assured. This was *her* event, and that was very obvious as the other dancing couples flowed around her and the man in red and gold. Clarkent was glad she wasn't wearing a mask--glad he could see frequent glimpses of her face. In case she forgot to come to him after the ball, he wanted to remember her as she was here, like a fairy flitting among fantastic monsters in a magical world where almost anything could happen--a world where maybe, just maybe, a stableboy could dance with a princess.

***

Though a part of her enjoyed the mix of grotesquerie and elegance that made up a masquerade, Loisette found the ball somewhat frustrating. She might not have had her vision obscured by a mask, but she was nonetheless finding it hard to guess at the identities of those who spoke with her.

Her first dancing partner had very obviously been Alexander. His red and gold clothing gave him away almost instantly, but the true confirmation of his identity had been a soft and almost dangerous-sounding utterance he had made: "Did you not like your other dress, Your Highness?"

She had told him tightly that she had wanted a white dress, and they hadn't spoken much more after that, both of them seething with displeasure. Alexander's mouth had formed into a grim line, and it was all she could do to resist the urge to break away from him. After that unfortunate dance, partner after partner had come wanting her hand, bringing her more and more frustration as she either failed to guess their identities or did guess and wished they were someone else. Sir Klaud had been one of the easily recognizable ones--his accent made him stick out like a sore thumb, and she had felt completely disgusted by the fact that she had to dance with him rather than be allowed to stomp his foot or push him over as she wanted to do. But though the bonds of propriety prohibited that, she vowed she would never forgive him for what he had done to Catherine.

She hated not having all the answers at the ball, but she soon found her interest piqued in the mystique of one thing. As she was whirled around the room by one partner after another, she had noticed a tall and well-built man in gold and blue standing against the wall and staring at her. He hadn't moved the whole time; he had simply watched her.

She had attempted to ignore him at first. If he wanted to gaze at her all night, then that was his business. But something about the air of mystery surrounding him caught her attention and made it impossible to ignore him. Why wasn't he dancing with other women? With a build like that, he certainly wouldn't have been turned down by most of the young ladies in the room.

Eventually, she manipulated one of her partners so that her dance was ended near the stranger. She thanked her partner—she believed he was probably one of Sir Tempos's close followers, though her uncertainty didn't actually irk her for once—and turned her gaze toward the stranger. If he wanted to dance with her, here was his one opportunity. Soon, she would be facing another supplicant, and he would lose his chance. She wouldn't try to give him another one.

As if sensing her thoughts, the man stepped forward, and she swallowed, suddenly nervous. Though she didn't know who he was, his outfit was handsome, as if he were the only person in the world meant to wear it. The golden cape had fluttered behind him as he moved, lending him an air of majesty.

He gave her a deep, graceful bow, and he asked her in a low voice, "May I have the next dance, Your Highness?"

Loisette curtseyed, not sure why a chill was traveling down her spine. "Yes, you may," she told him.

***

Clarkent wasn't certain how he managed to summon enough courage to ask the princess to dance, but he had suddenly realized this was his only shot, and he had seized it. He didn't want his only memories of the ball to be her dancing with other men.

He took her hand in his and led her to the middle of the dance floor, his skin tingling at the feel of her fingers on his. Her hand was so soft, and it fit so perfectly in his that he never wanted to let it go. What was coming over him? Why was his heart pounding so?

He forced himself to take in a calming breath, not wanting to make a fool of himself. And as they stopped and moved into position for the beginning of the dance, his eyes met with hers.

***

When Loisette's gaze locked with the stranger, it was almost like a bolt of lightning passed through them both. His brown eyes were dark and intense, and there was something almost familiar about them as they bore into hers.

And then the music began to play, and the force that bound them broke, and he began to lead her around the dance floor. His form was not perfect, but he treated her with such gentleness that she would rather dance twenty times with him than once with a dancing master.

But as they moved, she found that silence was not what she desired, and she began desperately casting about for a conversation topic as they danced. She wanted to somehow learn who this man was. It had become urgent and important to her for some inexplicable reason.

"You are not a bad dancer," she managed at last, unsure of what else to say.

The stranger's golden mask didn't cover his mouth, so she was able to see his lips lift in a smile. "You're too kind, Princess," he told her, still speaking in a soft voice. "I'm not a good dancer at all."

She normally wouldn't like for a strange man to call her "Princess" instead of "Your Highness," but for some reason, she didn't mind it when he did it. She tilted her head slightly and asked him, "If you are not good at dancing, then what are you good at?"

He was quiet for a minute, considering her question. At last, he said, "I am not a bad rider."

"Are you a knight?" Loisette asked him, fishing for an answer. Horsemanship was certainly important for knights.

The stranger gave her a lopsided smile that was oddly charming and made her feel a little weak-kneed. "I won't tell you who I am, Your Highness."

"And why not?" she asked, feeling a little put out. It would have been a lot easier if he had just told her.

But his answer wasn't what she expected: "You'll be queen soon, and I won't matter, Princess."

***

It hurt Clarkent to admit this dance they were sharing would soon mean nothing to the princess, but he knew it was true. He wasn't supposed to be at the ball, so he couldn't admit his identity--as if that would change things--and he knew she wouldn't be likely to fall in love with a stranger. That thought almost caused him to stumble--since when did he want the princess to fall in love with him? Why was he even *thinking* about love?

He moved to spin her--surprised at how much he remembered from the dancing lessons she had given him--and he winced as the movement caused him pain in his still-healing wound. He brought his hand up to his side without thinking.

"Are you all right?" Princess Loisette asked him softly, looking puzzled. "Is your side hurt?"

"I'm fine," he said quickly, making sure to keep his voice at the same low pitch he'd been using in hopes that it would help disguise his identity. "You are a great dancer, Your Highness, and you ... " He swallowed, a bit surprised by his own forwardness. "You look lovely this evening." That was an understatement if ever there was one. She outshone the sun.

A maidenly blush touched her cheeks, which merely increased her appeal, but her steps didn't falter. "Thank you, kind sir. Are you ... from this part of the kingdom?"

"I did not have to travel far to get here," he replied, dodging the question by providing a vague answer. He didn't want to lie if it could be avoided. Though this dance would be forgotten by her, he knew he would cherish it for years to come. The places where their bodies were touching as they danced almost seemed to burn his flesh. The sensation was powerful--he wanted to pull her against him, to bury his face in her hair. Where were these strong impulses coming from?

"And exactly how far was that?" Loisette asked him as he pulled his mind back to what she was saying. She was challenging his lack of details regarding where he lived.

Clarkent couldn't help but smile to himself. If there was one thing that getting older hadn't taken away from Princess Loisette, it was her pushiness. "Far enough that a princess would be unimpressed," he returned.

"I hate this masquerade," she said, pouting. "It isn't fair that everyone knows who I am while I have to guess at who they are."

He chuckled. "Sometimes, mystery is fun."

"Never!" she proclaimed with a grin. "I would rather know everything."

"I know, Princess," he acknowledged. But his mood was saddening as he heard the song draw to a close. If only it had been longer!

They finished the dance, and he bowed to her as she curtseyed to him. Then there was a short silence before he broke it.

"Thank you for this dance, Your Highness," he told her. He wished it could have lasted forever, but he wasn't that fortunate.

"Thank *you*," she returned softly, staring at him with a strange expression.

Clarkent turned and began to walk away, but her voice called back to him: "Will I ever see you again?"

He smiled at that. Twisting to look at her, he said sincerely, "I hope so." And then he left her, retreating to the position he had been maintaining earlier by the wall.

Clarkent saw another partner go up to the princess to ask for a dance with her, but he kept his gaze fixed on her face, his heart still flying up in the clouds after what he had just experienced. She really was an angel. A stubborn, bossy, nosy angel, but an angel nonetheless.

He sighed in contentment and continued to watch her. But finally, he noticed the hour was growing late. He needed to leave. He would be meeting with the princess soon, and he needed time to change and compose himself. He hoped she would come, but if she didn't, at least he had the memories of their dance together.

He put his hand in his pocket, and it closed on the necklace hidden inside. But as he walked toward the exit, he slowed as he overheard a pair of men speaking about the princess.

"A kingdom's a pretty fantastic dowry for Princess Loisette, isn't it?" the first man said.

"Why do you say that? You getting ideas?" the other man said, chuckling. "Even with a dowry like that, she can't marry just anyone. It'll be someone with a title and wealth of his own--someone who'll help make the crown stronger. That's how these things always work."

"Do you think it will be the Regent?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," the second man remarked. "He's certainly dressed the part in those royal colors. And all the women are swooning over him."

"Wish we stood a chance," grumbled the first man.

"Landless knights like us can't hold a candle to someone like him. We have to be content with what we have. It'd be nice if it was otherwise, but it isn't, so there's no use talking about it."

The conversation made Clarkent freeze in place. His happiness had vanished like smoke in the wind. Why had he come to this stupid ball anyway? He didn't belong in this beautiful world of Nobles. He had only been fooling himself when he tried to think otherwise. A princess might have danced with a stableboy, but what happened in the ballroom wouldn't carry over to life. He was meant for the stable--not for a dance. Clothes *did not* make the man. A duck could be dressed up in a tunic and pants, but it would only look ridiculous; ducks weren't supposed to wear clothing.

Clenching his teeth together, Clarkent touched the necklace he had retrieved from the ogre cave, and he pulled it out of his pocket. He had meant for the pegasus necklace to be a personalized gift for the princess--the piece of jewelry had been the closest he could get to giving her the flying horse she desired. But he was not supposed to be with her. There could be no future between a stableboy and a queen. And that was what she was about to become. A queen couldn't wear a paltry gift bestowed by someone who took care of horses. A queen couldn't have *him* for a friend.

He flung the necklace to the floor, ignoring the burning in his eyes. It had been stupid to get her jewelry. The book would suffice. She seemed to like stories, so it would be something she could read once and then toss aside. There was no need to give her anything more. There was no need to hope she would care about what he gave her.

He walked out of the great hall, his chest feeling like a leaden weight was pushed up against it.

***

Loisette's dance with the stranger in blue and gold had not served to assuage her curiosity but to increase it. Who was he? Why had he wanted to dance with her? Why wouldn't he reveal who he was? There was so much she wanted to know!

She danced with other men, as was her obligation, but she kept an eye on the stranger as she did so. And when he finally moved to leave, she felt a strong sense of loss. Why was he affecting her like this?

He pulled something out of his pocket that gleamed in the light. She could just barely see it due to all the people dancing and milling around, so she maneuvered her partner closer to him, nearly sighing in relief as the dance ended. She curtseyed and gave a quick thank-you to the man she had been dancing with, and then she pressed through the crowd to where the stranger had been standing. On the floor, she saw the item he must have dropped. Bending over quickly, she picked the object up.

It was a ruby necklace with a carefully designed pegasus on it. She smiled as she looked at the creature, thinking of her fondness for flying horses, and she slid a finger across the gold, marveling at the fine craftsmanship. Had the stranger lost it? Or had he thrown it down? Somehow, she didn't feel he would have simply dropped a precious item like this. Had he wanted her to have it for some reason?

He was a complete enigma to her, which wasn't surprising considering she had just met him. But she wished he hadn't left. There was so much she wanted to know about him. Her thoughts turned to his strange wince. Why did she feel as if the way he acted about his side was significant? And why had his eyes seemed so familiar? It was like there was something crucial she was missing ...

She clutched the necklace to her chest. Unless he came back for the necklace, then--no matter what his intentions had been—she would have the piece of jewelry as a memento. It made her smile. If she hadn't already been wearing a necklace, she would have put this new one around her neck. Jewelry was an intimate gift ... but the night had been one filled with mystery and intrigue. On a night like this, the rules concerning what was proper could be bent a little.

She just wished she could place where she had seen those eyes before ...

***

Chapter 30: Kidnapped

Clarkent changed out of his ballroom outfit and into his suit of livery and went to the Riding Stable. But he did so very slowly, the night still resting unhappily with him.

Once at the place where he spent most of his time, he stood morosely by High Flyer, staring at the horse as if the creature was his last connection to the princess. But Princess Loisette's favorite horse simply ignored him, closing his eyes and trying to sleep. The only indication of the horse's awareness of his surroundings was the way his ears flicked whenever Clarkent let out a heavy sigh.

<*I shouldn't have gone,*> Clarkent reflected. Attending the ball had been an idiotic thing to do. He couldn't reprimand himself enough. Dancing with the princess--yes, *that* had certainly been a good idea. *Not*.

Grabbing the necklace from that ogre cave had been yet another stupid move. Why had he thought he could get all chummy with royalty? Why had he tried to rise to a friendship above his station? It was like reaching for the stars--the only way for a normal man to come close was for one of them to fall ... and he didn't want that. He didn't want to bring the princess down to his level. She deserved to remain aloft. Even if it meant she was untouchable to him. And why had he asked her to meet with him, anyway? Why was he standing around and expecting that she would remember? Expecting that she would take time from her night of majesty to visit a humble stableboy? Why was just thinking about her muddling his head so much?

He was mired in these dark thoughts when the twitch of High Flyer's ears made him turn, and he saw Peri entering the stable hastily. Clarkent pursed his lips and stared at him, certain the magician was going to interrogate him on what had occurred at the ball.

But that wasn't what happened at all. Instead, Peri said to him in a voice that was soft and low, "I have news from the castle."

Clarkent frowned in confusion, the older man's statement throwing him for a loop. Having just come from the castle not long before, Clarkent wasn't certain what the older man could mean. "What kind of news?" he asked cautiously. "How do you know this?"

Peri stepped closer, still speaking very quietly. "Peregrine Falcons have great hearing, so James has been a very helpful source of information for me, though I also have other sources in the castle. But that doesn't matter. What matters is this: the Regent intends to force Princess Loisette to marry him tomorrow after her coronation so he can continue to rule Metropolita."

"Wh-what?" Clarkent gasped, his hands clenching at his sides. "He can't *do* that!" His heart was protesting so loudly he could barely hear himself think.

"He plans to and will," Peri said firmly, "unless we do something about it." He stared at Clarkent, his face grim. Then he turned his head away, his bearing almost sad. "And I worry for her life. I have long suspected that he killed King Samuel."

"You--you think he ... murdered the king?" Clarkent whispered. How could someone have done such a terrible thing?

The magician nodded, swiveling back to look at him. "But he covered his tracks well, I'm afraid. There was no trace of evidence linking King Samuel's death to him. If anyone suspected Duke Alexander's involvement, fear must have kept them quiet."

Clarkent placed a hand on Peri's arm and gazed at him pleadingly. "We can't let him hurt L--the princess." Her name sat like a lump in his throat. But speaking it would take his thoughts back to somewhere that they just couldn't be at the moment. There were other more important things to think about right now.

"I agree, son. What we need is time to prepare and learn more. And for now, we must get the princess to safety."

"You're right," Clarkent said, bobbing his head once. "What do you want me to do?"

"I live in a cottage deep in the royal forest which no one knows about. It is hidden by the same kind of concealment spell as the cave where Phantom is. I will find James and send him to lead you to it. You must take Princess Loisette with you. She should be safe there, and you will be able to talk freely without worrying about being overheard. Right now, it is an hour until midnight--she should be finishing with the ball about an hour after that. Allow her to enjoy herself--but after the masquerade ends, you must find her. Alexander won't make his move tonight, but we must. We have to act first."

"How long do we stay there?" Clarkent asked him, his thoughts jumping ahead. How long would he be alone with Princess Loisette?

"I will come and get you both when I find out more information and believe that the princess can return without fear," Peri told him. "I need to put up some safeguards and learn more about Alexander's plans and who his accomplices are. There is always the chance this is an idle rumor, though I fear it is not. He has been waiting for this day. I am sure of it."

Clarkent nodded, staring seriously at the older man. A question was burning on his tongue. "Why are you doing this for the princess? The Regent ... he ... he is one of her kind." They were both upper class. The Regent was the highest-ranking man in the kingdom. Wasn't he the sort of man she was supposed to be with? Why was Peri fighting against this? Clarkent was glad for it, but he didn't completely understand.

"No," Peri said, his eyes flashing, "he is not one of her kind. He is selfish and thirsty for power. If he continues to rule, then the kingdom will suffer more. And it won't be too long before even the Black Knight finds it hard to take away the people's despair." He stared at Clarkent, a sympathetic look in his eyes. "And besides ... she deserves to be happy."

"I want her to be," Clarkent whispered in a choked voice, not sure if he was speaking to himself or Peri--all he knew was that he would do anything to help the princess be happy.

But despite the quiet nature of Clarkent's utterance, the magician heard him and answered, "I know." And then, with a slight nod, he disappeared out the stable door.

Clarkent gazed out into the night. The Regent could never make Princess Loisette happy. Clarkent didn't know who would, but that man certainly was not the one. Clarkent knew that deep within his heart.

But though Peri's plan had seemed so straightforward, Clarkent was now realizing there was a flaw with it. The princess would never believe such an outrageous story from a peasant like him. He could just imagine himself walking up to her and saying, "The Regent is going to make you marry him whether you want to or not." Like she would put any stock into the truthfulness of that. She would simply dismiss him as crazy and waltz right back out of the stable--that was, if she even *intended* to come to their meeting in the first place. If she didn't, he would have to sneak up to her room ... and that thought scared him. If a stableboy was discovered sneaking into the princess's room at night, then--

He took in a deep breath, not wanting to finish that thought. There was only one way around this. He didn't like it, but he didn't have any other choice.

***

When Loisette finally left the ballroom, she discovered she was walking with millions of butterflies flapping around in her stomach. As if dancing with the man in blue and gold hadn't been enough to addle her, now she was going to meet with a stableboy on the night before she was supposed to become ruler of the kingdom. Midnight had already come and gone, so she was technically seventeen. All that was left was her coronation to complete the transition. And then everything would be different.

She nearly went straight to meet with Clarkent, suddenly wanting so much to be able to see him one more time, but she decided to first change out of her ballroom dress into a different one. She felt the dress Aliss had given her would draw too much attention when she tried to sneak out to the Riding Stable. Then, on a whim, she put on the necklace the stranger had dropped. It gave her a sort of comfort and made her feel just the tiniest bit less anxious about the upcoming rendezvous. It was as if the Pegasus there was available to fly her away on a moment's notice if she needed it. But she knew she wouldn't. If there was anyone who could make her feel safe, it was Clarkent.

She left the castle and crept out into the night, narrowly avoiding the attention of a trio of rambunctious partygoers who hadn't quite brought themselves to leave the castle yet. As the Riding Stable loomed before her, she felt her heartbeat begin to quicken a little. She stepped into the large building with an air of anticipation, a smile ready to leap onto her face as she searched the area nearby for Clarkent. But the only light in the stable was that which leaked in from the stars and full moon, so it was hard to see much. She opened her mouth, ready to call out Clarkent's name--

--only to let out a muffled scream as she felt the pressure of an arm around her chest and a cold hand on her mouth.

She immediately thrust her right arm backward, only to let out a whimper as her elbow collided with something metal. Her assailant loosened his grip for a second, only to tighten it as she struggled to get free.

In the dim light coming in from outside, she was just able to see the armored arm at her chest lift to give something to the hand by her mouth. And then she was gagged as she fought harder against the person holding her. But the metal coating his body made all her gestures useless, and before long, her hands had been bound in front of her and her legs beneath her. With her feet pressed together, it was hard to maintain balance, but she somehow managed to remain nearly still, only moving her head to glare at the stranger as he moved into the light pouring in from the entrance. After seeing that armor, there was no doubt in her mind as to who he was.

The Black Knight.

He had come to kidnap her--probably to ask for some sort of ransom.

The only question was ... what had he done to Clarkent?

***

It pained Clarkent so much to be the source of such anxiety for the princess, but he was doing this to save her. Maybe she would never thank him for this, but he had to do it. He couldn't take the chance that she wouldn't believe him. And it was much easier to see her angry with the Black Knight than it was to see her deriding Clarkent for being taken in too easily by rumors. With the latter, he would have been helpless to save her.

Through the slits in his helmet, he was able to see the glare she threw at him, and it nearly made him flinch and rethink his plan. But he made himself move confidently toward Phantom, whom he had placed in the empty stall that once belonged to Penelope Grace. He brought the horse out, feeling a streak of dark amusement as the princess tried to scoot across the floor in what was probably one of the slowest escape attempts ever made. Then, after only a second's hesitation, he placed his hands on both sides of the princess, tightening his fingers around her. She squirmed to free herself, but he lifted her and placed her sideways on the front of the saddle, feeling the uncomfortable stretch in his side as he did so. The princess immediately stopped moving ... realizing, as he had, that if she tried to struggle while on the saddle, then she would fall face-first onto the ground. She glared at him again.

Ignoring the pang of regret that she was justified in giving him such a look, he mounted the horse. He placed his arms around her and reached for the reins, kicking Phantom and bringing him out into the night. Clarkent had to admit to himself that he relished having the princess in his arms, though he hated the reason it had to happen ... just as he hated the armor blocking him from being able to better feel her pressed against him.

But he shoved those thoughts away with a sense of shame and concentrated on guiding his horse. All he needed to think about now was keeping the princess safe. James was flying overhead, leading him to his destination as Peri had said he would.

Clarkent tried not to think about the young woman in his arms. Since he had resolved not to speak to her--so she wouldn't guess his real identity--it was hard to bite back all the apologies hovering in his mouth. He didn't want her to think ill of the Black Knight, but he had practically ensured that she would with this stunt. If only Gawain could see the Black Knight now, what would he think of him? His opinion would have probably turned just as horrible as the princess's had. Any points the Black Knight might have earned by showing up at the tilting match would have utterly dissipated.

Clarkent really hated that he had to be a bad guy to be a good guy.

***

Chapter 31: How to Break a Bond

When the Black Knight absconded with the princess, the deed did not go unnoticed.

A man with black curly hair and a mischievous expression watched for a few seconds as the pair disappeared and then gloated, "I told you something was going to happen tonight."

Tempos glanced at him briefly before lifting his eyes once more in interest. "Well, what d'you know--you were right, my magic-using friend. I think that means we're due to make a little celebratory visit to someone, though somehow I don't think he will feel there's much to celebrate." His mirthless laugh sounded almost inhuman.

The other man smirked.

***

Tempos found Alexander in the royal bedchamber, which was no surprise, as he had specifically expected him to be there. Tempos had even ensured there was a diversion of sorts that had led to the need for assistance from the Regent's guards, which meant no one was watching the room. Well, there had been *one* man who remained on guard--and he was quickly disposed of.

Inside the room, Alexander was staring down at a handheld mirror, studying his face, and he seemed less than happy that his brother was interrupting him. "What do you want?" he said irritably, not looking up.

"Was the princess displeased with your features at the ball?" Tempos asked him, standing in the doorway. The man who called himself "Imp" was behind him.

Alexander finally glanced at his brother in quiet fury. "Leave me."

Tempos moved closer. "Or are you depressed that you'll have to say goodbye to your little throne?"

Alexander looked upon him coldly. "I intend for it to become mine once again. I shall only be relinquishing it temporarily."

"There's just one little problem with your plan, brother," Tempos told him in a casual tone. "It appears the Black Knight has taken off with your future wife."

"What?" Alexander growled, lowering the mirror.

"Actually, I lied--there are *two* problems with your plan." Tempos looked pointedly at his brother's chest.

The color drained from Alexander's face as he lowered his chin to stare down at the dagger now embedded in his heart. "You wretch," he whispered, dropping the mirror to the floor, where it cracked.

"I intend to be the one to marry your bride and become king," Tempos informed him matter-of-factly. "It's such a shame that the Black Knight snuck in here to kill you while everyone was busy. You'd think he would have better manners than to crash a party."

Alexander pulled the dagger out of his chest and lunged at his brother, who sidestepped him. Imp came in from the hallway and smashed him on the head with his magician's staff, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Tempos knelt and pried the dagger from his brother's hand.

"Monster," Alexander whispered, jamming his eyes shut with the pain, blood leaking from his chest.

With an air of boredom, Tempos used the dagger to slit the Regent's throat. "You really shouldn't bleed so much, brother. It's unseemly." He laughed and then pulled out a handkerchief, wiping the dagger clean of blood before hiding it on his person. Then he instructed, "Burn that," and he handed the now-scarlet handkerchief to Imp.

While the magician did as requested, Tempos picked up his brother's mirror and stared down at it. Then he spoke: "Mirror, mirror, in my hand, who's the most villainous in the land?" The mirror didn't change; it simply continued to show his image. He smiled to himself. "Well ... duh!" Then he let out a dry laugh.

After giving himself a moment to appreciate his burst of humor, Tempos turned to look at Imp, who was putting the ashy remains of the handkerchief in the Regent's fireplace. "Come on," the knight ordered. "We need to go find some guards and gossipy servants."

"What will you be telling them?" the magician asked in interest, gleefully bringing his hands together.

"Simple. I'll be telling them a sob story about the Black Knight. It really was nasty of him to murder my brother and then kidnap the princess with the intent to marry her himself." He smiled and then tilted his head, thinking. "I'll tell them we need to band with the Barbarian Kingdom to destroy him. My brother has let this disgusting do-gooder roam free for far too long. I don't mind lowering myself to work with some *Barbarians* if it'll rid us of that vigilante. People like him make me sick."

"And what about me?" Imp asked, crossing his arms.

"You're right, Imp," Tempos said as they left the room. "There's one other thing we need to do. We need to send someone to find Peregrine the White ... and tell him he's fired. The Mystical Sorcerer's back in town."

***

Clarkent followed the dark form that was James through the woods, remaining hyper conscious of his captive's movements. Every now and then, the princess would shift in place a little, as if she were supposed to struggle some just on principle. But these movements made Clarkent nervous--he didn't want her to accidentally fall off Phantom and get hurt. He would never forgive himself if that happened.

As they went through the forest, the trees seemed to close in on them, and Clarkent couldn't help but uneasily recall the Garms he and Gawain had seen. Was another monster going to rear its head and attack?

Finally, however, James flew down and landed on a branch, and Clarkent knew that was the cue that they had arrived. Halting Phantom, Clarkent muttered--in a low voice, so the princess wouldn't hear him speak--the word "reveal." He saw the telltale shimmer, and then the cottage appeared. It was a simple wooden building--perhaps just the tiniest bit weather-beaten—but it was built to last and looked as if it kept the elements at bay.

He dismounted, and after tending to Phantom and ground tying him, he brought the princess down from the horse. Because her legs were bound, she couldn't walk, so he had to carry her in his arms into the cabin. Peri's eternal flames could be found burning in each room, so Clarkent had no problems seeing what he was doing. After closing the front door with a foot, he went into the cottage's small bedroom and set the princess upright on the bed. He hated that it had to be this way--she must have been so uncomfortable--but he had no choice. He couldn't let her escape.

He heard a flapping noise as James came into the room. The bird perched on one of the bedposts and let out a "rep rep."

Clarkent allowed himself a moment to breathe and stare at the princess, and he froze as he saw something at her neck gleam in the flickering light. She was wearing the pegasus necklace.

How had she found it? The room had been filled with people, and she had been inundated with partners. Under what circumstance could she have retrieved it from the floor where he had dropped it? Could she ... have been watching him?

A feeling of warmth flooded his body at the thought that she might have been interested in him at the ball--but that warmth quickly turned to guilt as he saw the look of fear on her face. How he hated that it had to come to this!

***

Loisette was frightened. Right now, the unknown was looming before her. What did the Black Knight intend to do with her? She was alone in a bedroom with him--whatever he wanted couldn't be good. She knew that much at least.

But there was one thing that was confusing her--the bird with the Black Knight ... was he *James*? And if so, what was *he* doing with the Black Knight? There were so many things that didn't make sense to her. She wanted answers, but she couldn't even speak to ask them thanks to the cloth stuffed in her mouth.

When the Black Knight started moving toward her, she flinched, scooting backward on the bed to press up against the wall. He hesitated for a second before continuing. She tried to lean to the side away from him, only to relax just a fraction as she realized all he was doing was removing her gag. The thought of having her voice was enough to make her feel a little bit better--after all, as a princess, her voice had enabled her to control people for years. She probably wouldn't be so fortunate as to have real control in this case, but even if she was simply given the *illusion* of control, she would not feel so helpless. At this point, she was willing to take anything she could get.

When the cloth was out of her mouth, she immediately blurted out, "What do you want with me?"

Rather than reply, the Black Knight just stared at her.

Loisette narrowed her eyes. Was he mute? Deaf? Or was he just refusing to talk to her?

"Are you going to hurt me?" she tried again.

This time, she received a negative gesture from him. So, he wasn't deaf. Maybe he didn't want her to hear his voice. But why would that be? Nothing was making any sense. If he wasn't going to talk to her, why had he removed the gag?

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, but he just looked at her, his helmet pointed in her direction. She sighed. Obviously, she would only meet with success by asking questions that could be answered with gestures. She modified her question: "Did you kidnap me for a ransom?"

He shook his head.

She frowned. He didn't want to hurt her, and he didn't want money. Either he was lying, or there was something strange going on that she didn't know about.

After thinking some more, she asked, "Did you kidnap me to ... do something bad to me?"

Again, a negative.

Loisette sighed. It was obviously going to take a while for her to get any answers.

***

Clarkent wasn't sure whether to be amused at or abashed by the princess's queries. He hadn't even considered bringing writing supplies so he could communicate with her--he had just taken her away in desperation without really thinking it through. There was still the option of speech, of course, but he didn't want to go that route, so he just let her ask more questions. It wasn't like she could force him to answer them if he didn't want to.

"Did you kidnap me to save someone else?" she inquired.

Clarkent almost snorted at that one. Her questions were getting slightly ridiculous, but he couldn't exactly blame her, so he shook his head.

She hesitated. "Are you wanting to ... marry me?"

Clarkent froze, the question causing a spike of *something* to shoot through him. Then he slowly shook his head. He hadn't brought her here for that purpose. He was trying to keep her from marrying Alexander against her will. That was all.

She began spouting off several questions at once: "Do you want someone else to marry me? Or to make someone mad? Are you trying to keep me from becoming queen? Is someone making you do this?"

He shook his head adamantly. Despite the wide range of things she was asking, the truth wasn't going to be revealed this way, and he doubted she would believe him even if he did let her know what was happening.

But it was late in the evening--before long, it would be morning--and he was tired. He was certain she was, too. They could play the question game after they got some sleep.

He walked over to the bed and indicated that she needed to lie down. She gave him a confused look, and he gently lifted her legs up from the floor and sat them on the bed. He touched the pillow behind her, and she twisted to look at it what he was doing.

Confident she would figure out what he meant soon enough, Clarkent moved to the other side of the room and placed his sheathed sword on the ground. Then he sank down, fatigued after all the day's events. It wouldn't be easy--or comfortable—to sleep in his armor, but he wasn't about to reveal his identity to the princess. He could sleep in a different room, but he felt his absence might make the princess worry. A foe in sight was better than one out of sight ... Not that he liked thinking of himself as her enemy. However, she had no choice but to see him as such since he'd kidnapped her, so he would have to deal with that annoying truth.

He leaned against the wall, intending to sleep upright. Before his eyes closed, he saw the princess lower her head to the pillow, and he let out a contented sigh.

***

Though Loisette was lying down on the bed, she had no intention of going to sleep yet. She lifted her hands to scratch her nose--at least her bonds weren't tight enough to hurt her, though she certainly wasn't going to be squirming out of them anytime soon--and then glanced across the room at the Black Knight. Whether he was asleep already or not, she wasn't sure, but he wouldn't be able to understand the words she was about to speak, much less hear them, so she ventured quietly, "***James, is that you?***"

The sharp-eared bird, who was still perched on the bedpost, hopped down and walked toward her head. "***Good evening, Your Highness,***" he chirped.

She narrowed her eyes. "***It *is* you.***"

"***Yeah,***" he replied sheepishly.

"***Why are you with *him*, James? He's one of the bad guys--have *you* been one of the bad guys all along, too?***"

"***No,*" the Peregrine Falcon answered firmly. "*He's not one of the bad guys. Neither am I.***"

"***Then who *is* he?*" she asked in frustration. "***Do I know him?***"

"***I'm not telling you anything, Your Highness. I'm sorry. I can't.***"

Loisette growled beneath her breath. "***Why are you helping him? Can you tell me that?***"

James tilted his head. "***Sometimes, Your Highness, you have to do what is right--even if it doesn't always make sense to everyone.***"

"***Like you're one to talk about what's right,***" Loisette said grumpily. "***Was it 'right' for you to leave your parents and never talk to them again?***"

"***Why are you bringing them into this?***" James asked, seeming irritated and a bit confused.

"***I don't think *you* can understand anything about what's right,***" she told him. "***It's not right for you not to see your parents again--just as it's not right for you to withhold important information from me when my life's in danger.***"

"***Your life isn't in danger,***" he told her. Then, he amended, "***Well--not exactly. Not right now, anyway.***"

"***What's that supposed to mean?***" she huffed.

"***You're not in danger from the Black Knight. I can tell you that much.***"

"***And you're not in danger from your parents,***" she returned, her eyes flashing.

"***Would you stop talking about them?***" he asked in exasperation.

"***I will if you'll tell me more about the Black Knight,***" she told him.

The bird paused and then fixed his beady eyes on her. "***If I promise to go see my parents sometime, will you stop asking me about the Black Knight?***"

She stared at him. She had intended to annoy him into telling her something--but it was obvious his beak was shut on this issue. She might as well get something out of it--even if it wasn't for her. "***Fine,***" she agreed. She would just have to get her answers another way.

James turned his head. He seemed upset. "***I'm going to go hunt now. I haven't had much time to myself lately.***" Then, he raised his wings and flew from the room.

She gazed after him, wondering how he was going to get outside since he lacked opposable thumbs. But that was his problem, not hers. She had other things to worry about.

She looked at the Black Knight. The steady rise and fall of his armored chest seemed to indicate he was asleep. After watching him for a moment, she turned her eyes to his sword, which was in its sheath on the floor beside him. Her forehead crinkled in a frown. And then she smiled to herself. Maybe things weren't so bad after all.

***

Chapter 32: Do Not Go Gentle with That Good Knight

Clarkent felt as if he had barely shut his eyes for two minutes when he felt something shift around his neck. He opened bleary eyes, confused and startled and utterly unsure of what was happening. His sleep-fogged brain finally caught up with him, and he lifted his arms in a panic, but it was too late. His helmet had been removed.

His gaze fell on the floor first, where he saw the frayed rope that had once been around the princess's hands. Then he lifted his head with fearful reluctance and stared up at the princess herself ... and saw the expression of shock and pain on her face.

"Clarkent?" she gasped, dropping the helmet to the floor with a clang.

***

It had been a long and agonizing process, but the princess had managed to wriggle off the bed and sink to the floor without making much noise. Then she had scooted on her hind end to move toward the Black Knight. After that, she had used her hands to ever-so-quietly remove the knight's sword from its sheath. Finally, she had softly and slowly sawed off the ropes on her hand with the sharp blade.

After that, she had untied her legs, which were relived to be freed of her bonds. James hadn't returned from hunting yet, thankfully, and she had nearly snuck out then and there. But then she had gazed intently at the Black Knight. Though he *had* kidnapped her, he hadn't done anything to hurt her. Scare her, yes. Hurt her, no.

And what was more ... Peri's animal familiar trusted the knight. Why was that? Was James a traitor to Peri? Or was something going on here that she didn't know about? She didn't think there was anything evil about the bird--in some ways, despite all his years, James had seemed like a spunky kid.

Who *was* the Black Knight? And why hadn't James been willing to tell her?

For some reason, her mind had flashed back to the masquerade ball. Something important had happened there. But what was it?

She had crept closer to the Black Knight, knowing this was her one chance to learn his identity. But she had also known that the cost of such knowledge could be death. She was so close to escape--the Black Knight was sleeping and wouldn't realize she was missing until she was long gone.

But in staring at the Black Knight, she had also been staring her curiosity in the eye. And she hadn't been able to back down from that.

Her heart beating out a merciless rhythm in her chest, she had reached forward, taken a deep breath, and pulled up on the Black Knight's helmet.

And then she had reeled upon seeing the sleepy face of her stableboy friend.

As she felt his helmet slip from her fingers, she somehow managed his name: "Clarkent?" She felt hurt, shocked, confused, overwhelmed ...

Pieces were falling together too easily. That sword on the ground--when she had used it to remove her bonds, she had felt there was something vaguely familiar about it. Of course she recognized it--the sword was the one he'd used to fight off the Garms and end Penelope Grace's life. And when she'd seen Clarkent in the stable after the tilt, he had been favoring his side--at the jousting match, she had seen a gleam in the light and had wondered if Sir Tempos had stabbed the Black Knight. It seemed he had. And now she knew why Clarkent had appeared to support the Black Knight. It only made sense for him to support himself.

"Princess--Your ... Your Highness," the stableboy whispered, obviously unsure what to say.

She stared at him unflinchingly. "Why didn't you tell me?" She thought she knew him better than anyone else in the world, but she was wrong. She hadn't known him at all. He had kidnapped her--humiliated her. Deceived her.

He winced at her words, avoiding her gaze. "You hated the Black Knight. How could I tell you? You'd never talk to me again."

She crossed her arms, not wanting to admit that he had a point. As her mind continued to whirl, something else occurred to her, and she asked abruptly, "Was that you at the ball?"

His abashed expression was all she needed to see. The mysterious stranger *had* been him.

Her mind flashed back to when they had danced out in the field so long ago. They had both been so innocent then. That had been before the Black Knight was in existence--and also before she had started dressing up as Gawain. A small part of her told her that she shouldn't be angry at Clarkent for keeping this secret when she was concealing something just as big, but she dismissed it. The magic surrounding her outfit wouldn't *let* her tell anyone--so her circumstance was completely different. She couldn't tell him even if she *wanted* to. At least he'd *had* the choice. That was a luxury she had not been given.

She pierced him with her gaze and demanded suddenly, "Why did you take me away from the castle?" No matter how angry she was, she would never believe he wanted to hurt her. If she did, her whole life would fall apart. Her best friend couldn't truly be evil, could he? Maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought, but she did know that much. Didn't she?

He looked down sadly at the gauntlets covering his hands. "You won't believe me, Prin--Your Highness. That's why I didn't tell you before."

"Clarkent," she said dangerously. She would get answers from him even if she had to pry them out. "Why am I here?"

He sighed. "You're in trouble, Your Highness."

Her eyes became narrow slits. "What do you mean?"

He slowly got to his feet, and she backed away, trying not to think about the pained expression that came over his face as she did so.

"The Regent intends to force you to marry him," he explained.

"That's ridiculous," she told him immediately. "Alexander has always been kind to me." Her mind flashed to his attempt to control her outfit at the ball, but she pushed that away. That was an isolated incident. He didn't usually do things like that. "He even Requested you to stay when I asked him." She bit down on her lip, mentally kicking herself. She hadn't meant to tell him that.

"What?" Clarkent asked, his mouth hanging open slightly. "You ... you were the one who wanted to Request me?"

She flushed. "Well, don't ask me if I'd do it again--not after you've hidden your real identity from me all this time."

"The Black Knight isn't my real identity," he told her, his eyebrows pulled inward. "That's just something I do to help people."

"Help people?" she scoffed. "You haven't been *helping* people!"

"I have, too!" he insisted. "The stories you've been hearing--they're all skewed toward the rich! You don't know the truth behind them. You don't know how the Regent has been sucking the lifeblood from people--"

"In spite of what you think, Alexander is not a bad man!" she growled at him before leaving the room in fury. She hated that there was a part of her that didn't believe that.

He followed after her. "He *is* a bad man, Princess! He intends to make you his wife whether you want that or not. Peri and I--"

She swiveled toward him, her right hand on the knob to the door that led outside. "*Peregrine the White *is involved in this?" Suddenly, things made even more sense--James was helping Clarkent because Peri was also tangled up in this mess. Peri must have told James to keep Clarkent's identity a secret from her. Was there anyone *else* she needed to know about?

"*Peri* is the one that told me about Alexander's plans!" Clarkent told her. "This is his cottage. I was bringing you here to keep you safe while Peri--"

She jerked open the door. "I don't need anyone to keep me safe. I'll be perfectly fine on my own." She stomped outside and brought herself to stand beside the big black horse nearby. She had thought he belonged to the Black Knight, but now she knew he belonged to Clarkent--and she didn't even want to think about how a poor stableboy would have come across such a creature. "Take me home," she gritted, staring at the horse rather than the young man she had *thought* was her friend.

"No," Clarkent said firmly.

She turned toward him, enraged. "Take me home *now*."

"I told you before," he said, crossing his arms stubbornly as he stepped up beside her. "It's too dangerous, Your Highness."

Loisette narrowed her eyes. "And I told you--*I* ... *don't* ... *care*!" She shoved him, and he stumbled backward and tottered a bit before regaining his balance. A part of her felt guilty for being so rough, but she pushed that part away. *He* was the one who should feel guilty.

"*James!*" she yelled. She knew the bird had to be nearby—and he would hear her.

"What are you doing?" Clarkent asked her as she mounted the black horse. Despite the fact that she was wearing a dress, she put her legs on both sides of Phantom, as he was not wearing a sidesaddle.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she snapped back, her hands shuffling her skirt to make it rest easier on the horse. "I'm going home."

"Phantom only responds to my commands," he told her, sounding irritatingly smug as she tried and failed to get the horse to move. "Peri taught him that."

Rolling her eyes, she leaned down toward the ebony horse's head. "***Phantom, my name is Princess Loisette, and I really need to go home. Do you think you could do that for me?***"

The horse twisted his neck a little, as if to look at her, and then said, "***I'm only supposed to follow the instructions of the stableboy who wears the black armor.***" He seemed a little surprised that she could communicate with him.

"***I know that's what Peri told you, but can you please make an exception this once?***" she pleaded.

"What are you *doing*?" Clarkent asked, but she ignored him.

"***Please, Phantom,***" she tried again.

"***Your Highness?***" a voice called, and Loisette looked up into the sky. James had arrived. She smiled. At least something was going right.

"***The bird--James--will lead us,***" she told Phantom. "***Please help me. I really need to go home.***"

"***All right,***" the horse said reluctantly. "***I will take you this one time.***"

"***James,***" she called upward. "***Lead me home.***"

The Peregrine Falcon circled in the air above her. "***You need to stay here, Your Highness,***" he told her. He sounded uncomfortable, likely because he had realized she now knew the helmetless Clarkent's real identity.

But right now, she didn't care about his comfort. "***I'm going home, James, and you're going to lead me there.***"

"***I can't--***"

"***James!***" she growled. "***I'm *going* home! Don't forget--I will soon be the queen of Metropolita, and as such, I will have power over Peri.***"

"***You're not queen yet,***" James pointed out.

"***Fine,***" she gritted. "***Then I will go without you. But if I get lost, it will be on your head!***" She lowered her head, resolved to leave this place.

"***All right, Your Highness,***" the bird said meekly. "***I will lead the way.***"

A smile of triumph touching her face, Loisette snapped the reins and kicked her heels into Phantom, who lurched forward. Then she turned and saw Clarkent running after them.

"Phantom, stop!" he called out desperately. "Princess, please don't go! It's too dangerous!"

But she simply continued to spur Phantom on and follow James through the forest. There was no way Clarkent would be able to catch them. Especially not with that cursed black armor on. She was safe from his meddling at least.

***

When Loisette was near the castle, James left her, perhaps to go back to Clarkent or to see Peri. She went to the Riding Stable and put Phantom in Penelope Grace's old stall, not knowing what else to do with him. She politely asked Dwayne if he would take care of the horse, and he agreed with a puzzled look, but she didn't stick around to answer the questions he must have had.

Finally, she went into the castle. Though she held her head up high, her resolve was beginning to fail her. What if Clarkent had been right? What if Alexander *did* mean to make her marry him? Was she walking right into his trap? She had never thought of Alexander as more than a cousin. It was possible she wouldn't have the luxury of marrying for love, but she *knew* she couldn't marry him. That was something she could not bear, and she would do almost anything to avoid it. Despite her defense of him to Clarkent, there truly was a part of her that didn't like the man.

"Your Highness?" a voice said unsurely, and she turned.

A guard was standing there and looking surprised. "Your Highness, are you safe?"

They must have known something had happened to her. "Yes, I am," she told him, her voice steady. "Where is Regent Alexander?"

The guard looked down at the floor. "The Regent was murdered by the Black Knight, Your Highness, before that criminal escaped with you."

"What?" Loisette whispered. "He's ... dead?"

"Yes, Your Highness," the guard confirmed solemnly. "Regent Tempos has been worried about you. How did you get away?"

"He didn't want to hurt me," she murmured, turning away from him. Alexander was dead, and now Tempos was Regent? How had everything changed in such a short time?

Her thoughts flashed to Clarkent. She didn't want to believe him capable of murdering a monarch--she balked at the thought of her kind friend doing such a thing. Could Tempos himself have done it? There were all those rumors about what had happened to his wives ...

One thing was for certain. Even if Sir Tempos--now a Duke, she supposed--was only Regent for less than a day, it could not be good. He had never been "nice" to anyone--much less actually worried about someone as the guard had indicated. She might have doubted that Alexander would force her into marriage with him ... but she wasn't sure she could put it past his brother.

"Regent Tempos is in the throne room, Your Highness," the guard supplied helpfully. "Shall I escort you there? I am certain he will have a lot to talk to you about."

Loisette looked at him for a few seconds. She would much rather have been with Clarkent ... and then she remembered that he was the Black Knight, an accused murderer and someone she had thought was her friend until she discovered he had been deceiving her for years. Her mood darkened, and she took in a deep breath. There probably wasn't any way she could get out of seeing Tempos, so she might as well go quietly.

"Very well," she acceded. "Take me to him."

***

Chapter 33: The Dragon in the Castle

"Your Highness," Tempos called out in greeting as Loisette walked the length of the throne room up to him. "I am so glad to see you are safe." But though the words themselves might have seemed kind, there was no warmth in his voice. There never was.

"I am sorry to hear about your brother," she said in a soft voice when she was finally a few feet in front of him. She curtseyed to him, and he responded with an aloof nod. He was flanked by a pair of guards and was lounging in an unRegentlike manner on the great chair that was Loisette's by birthright. He obviously wasn't upset about his brother's death. In fact, it was possible he had been sleeping when she first came in—there was a lethargy to his bearing that went a bit beyond his normally casual manner.

"These things happen, Your Highness. But don't worry--I won't handle the funeral details until after your coronation," he said casually, as if he were simply talking about delaying a picnic. "We don't want to take away from your shining day."

Loisette almost breathed a sigh of relief. He was going to let her have her coronation ceremony after all. There had been a part of her that wasn't sure he would. But she was no fool--she knew he could care less as to whether something detracted from her "shining day," and the fact that he was letting her have it meant he had plans of his own. She was going to have to tread carefully. It was certainly possible he intended to do nothing bad, but Clarkent had made her paranoid despite herself. In this instance, it was better to be safe than end up miserable.

"How did you escape anyway, Your Highness?" he asked, one eyebrow lifted. "We were preparing a rescue attempt, but I was not aware it had been successfully made yet."

"I ran away," she returned, curtseying. "Please excuse me. I must go prepare for my coronation."

"Your lady-in-waiting should be ... well, *waiting* for you," he called out after her.

She frowned to herself. Had he *expected* her to return so quickly? Or had he just told Mishal to wait until she returned? Or was she simply reading too much into it? Her paranoia only seemed to be increasing.

Her thoughts turned to Clarkent. A flash of frustration spread through her. Even if there was no truth to Clarkent's claim that Alexander had intended to make her marry him, the stableboy had spoiled the time leading up to her coronation. He had made her unnecessarily anxious. Though he wasn't with her, he had utterly ruined her day.

But then a small and annoying voice pointed out that he had been her friend through thick and thin. Even when she had disagreed with him, he had always had her best interests at heart. He had never shown any desire to purposefully hurt her in either of her personas. He was all kindness and sincerity, even though she had frequently been unkind to him.

She left the throne room bogged down in such thoughts, and as she traversed the halls to go to her chamber, she noticed there were a lot of guards patrolling the castle. It made her feel ill at ease. What if she wanted to leave the castle without being noticed? Or to sneak around after the coronation ceremony and see if she could find out anything about Tempos's plans? She had the feeling that it wouldn't be easy. The best way for her to do it would be as Gawain--but what if the guards started poking around in her secret alcove and made it hard for her to change? The whole situation made her nervous.

Before going into her room, she went to her special alcove and retrieved her Gawain clothing, which was wrapped in an old blanket. Replacing the loose bricks quickly and holding the items in her hand as if they were nothing special, she took a deep breath and went to her chamber. Inside, Mishal was waiting for her, as Tempos had said.

"Your Highness!" exclaimed Mishal, curtseying. "I was worried about you. I am glad you are safe."

Loisette gave her a nod of greeting as she crossed to the trunk by her bed and stuffed the blanketed clothes into it. "After I rest a little, I will need some assistance in getting ready for my coronation," she said, immediately getting down to business in hopes that it would distract Mishal from what she had just done. She suddenly felt really tired, and she did not want to have to deal with any prying questions.

"Of course, Your Highness," Mishal said, seeming suitably distracted (to Loisette's relief).

Princess Loisette took in a shaky breath. Soon, she was going to be Queen Loisette. That thought was frightening.

***

At the coronation ceremony, Loisette wore a white and gold dress. Over it, she had on a red robe bordered by a golden pattern and trimmed with ermine. Mishal had brought her a diamond necklace to wear with the outfit, but Loisette had refused it. She'd wanted to wear the necklace Clarkent had dropped at the ball. He wouldn't be there to see it, but she had felt the pegasus would serve as an important symbol.

After all, she intended to keep the royal line as strong as the pegasus looked--she intended to protect her people. She wasn't wearing the necklace because of the person she had indirectly received it from ... but because of that symbol. She had always wanted a pegasus, and now, in a way, she was to become one. Just as the flying horse symbolized the royal line, so would she symbolize the fortitude of her people. And if Clarkent's face happened to pop up in her mind's eye whenever she thought about the necklace, well, that was just unfortunate. The reason she was wearing it had nothing to do with him.

Though nervous, she bore herself unwaveringly throughout the coronation ceremony. Both the recognition of her as monarch and her oath to be a proper queen to her people went off without a hitch, and then she was given the royal scepter and the ring which represented marriage between her and the nation. These objects made her nervous--particularly the latter--but she did not allow herself to show it in her face. And when the crown was placed upon her head, she gave a regal smile to the people watching. And then the Nobles came forward to swear their fealty to her as their ruler, and she looked down at them from her throne with a kind but firm expression.

But during this part of the ceremony, she noticed that Tempos slipped out of the room after swearing his own oath, and the slightest of frowns wrinkled her forehead before she wiped it away. She was intrigued by his disappearance, but she knew she couldn't investigate what he was doing until afterward.

So she simply concentrated on the final part of the ceremony that made her queen, unable to shake the disconcerting feeling that everything was different now.

***

After her coronation, Loisette tried to return to her room. But before she even got to the door, she ran into the castle librarian.

"Hello, Herbie," she greeted warmly.

"Greetings, Your Majesty," he returned with a bow, blinking furiously at her. He lifted a hand to wipe it over his mustache nervously. After glancing around to make sure they were alone, he said in a quiet voice, "I'm worried about Tempos."

"What do you mean?" she asked, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. What had happened?

"I saw him disappear behind a tapestry in the west corridor, and I fear he is up to no good, Your Majesty."

Loisette furrowed her brow. She had heard of rumors of secret passages, but she hadn't actually found any herself. She had her own secret alcove, of course, but that was nothing like this. She had always hoped her father would one day tell her about the castle's secret passages--if they did exist--but he had died before she had asked him. Perhaps now she would find one of them.

But if Tempos knew of one secret passage, it was likely he knew of others, and that thought made Loisette uneasy. She swallowed nervously. "Which tapestry was it?" What was Tempos up to?

"The Solarian tapestry, Your Majesty," he replied. When she didn't appear to know what he meant, he further specified, "The one with the pegasus and the d--"

"I know which one you mean now," Loisette cut in, realizing what he was talking about. "Do you know what Tempos might be doing?"

Herbie shook his head. "I saw him take a man in there, Your Majesty--somewhat forcefully, I might add. The man looked frightened."

"Thank you," she told him. "I'll take care of it."

He nodded in relief and started to leave, but then he paused and turned. "You won't be taking care of it yourself, Your Majesty, I hope? You will send someone else."

She smiled at him. "Don't worry, Herbie."

He gave a brief bob of his head. "Quite right, Your Majesty."

She watched him leave. It was true that she didn't want him to worry--but she had no intention of sending someone else to check out what Tempos was doing. She didn't know who she could trust. She would have to take care of this herself. Luckily, her queenly duties wouldn't start until the next day.

***

Loisette went to her room to change out of her coronation outfit. Unfortunately, Mishal and a rather nosy maid were there, so she was unable to change into her Gawain clothes. Instead, she quickly put on a blue dress, rejecting the red and gold one the two girls tried to get her to wear. She was beginning to be sick of the royal colors and the fact that everyone wanted to foist them on her.

She slipped away from Mishal and the maid and hurriedly went to the tapestry in question. Two great creatures were rearing up opposite each other, and though they were very different in appearance, in some ways they appeared to be mirror images of each other.

"Here goes," Loisette whispered to herself, reaching a hand out to pull back the golden tapestry. All she saw was the wall, so she put her hands on it, feeling for anything unusual. She finally found an indentation and applied pressure, part of the wall pushing away from her. A secret door and a secret passage. It sent a thrill of excitement through her. What was she going to find? And how many of these secret passages were there? Had several things happened inside her own home that she had no knowledge of?

She padded quietly down the dark passageway, her heart pounding as it curved around toward a light source. What if this was where Tempos kept his dead wives? What if he brought people in here periodically to murder them for pleasure? She shivered, less than comforted by the morbid thoughts.

As she continued, she heard the sound of voices, and she began to move slower, wanting to make out the two men's words but not wanting to be caught.

"--don't take kindly to people whose noses are bigger than their brains," Tempos was saying.

"I wasn't spying on you," the man pleaded desperately. "You have to believe me."

Loisette peeked around the corner into a small chamber where Tempos was pointing a dagger at a man's throat. The room itself was plain, with a pair of chairs, a table that had a few books on it, and some weapons against the back wall. The stony ground was red in places, as if this wasn't the first time that blood had painted the floor.

"That's what you have been telling me--save it for someone who cares," Tempos said, sounding bored. "I certainly don't." And with one quick movement, he drew the dagger across the man's neck.

Loisette gasped and then reached a hand up to cover her mouth. But it was too late.

Tempos swiveled toward her, his eyes widening. "Your Majesty!"

She turned and ran, barreling down the secret passageway as fast as she could. She had just reached the tapestry and was about to burst out into the corridor when a hand yanked at the bow on the back of her dress, causing her to jerk backward.

"Your Majesty," Tempos breathed into her ear, his dagger now hovering by her throat. "What a surprise. Most damsels have to prick their fingers or eat poisoned fruit before the villain can have any control. You just gave yourself to me. It feels like my birthday." With a chuckle, he lightly pressed the dagger up against her flesh. "You're even wrapped with a bow."

Trying not to move, Loisette gritted, "Let me go, or I'll--"

"Or you'll what?" Tempos asked, sounding amused. "Huff and puff and blow my castle down? I don't think so. Now, we're going to take a little trip to your room, and you aren't going to scream. If you do, I'll kill you. And we don't want that, now do we?"

"No," she whispered in return. Even if she did manage to run away, it was obvious he had spies everywhere. If he didn't catch her, they would. A part of her wished she had gone in the passageway as Gawain, but if she had, he would have surely killed her.

"Now, I'm going to put the dagger away," Tempos told her, "but I can just as easily pull it back out. Understand?"

"Yes," she bit out angrily.

"Let's go," he instructed, pushing her out into the hallway.

They wasted no time in walking to her room, and when they stood outside it, he said to her, "Tell whoever is in there to leave."

She took in a deep breath and nodded. Opening the door, she entered with a blank expression. Mishal and the maid were talking--gossiping, no doubt--and they curtseyed when they saw her come in.

"Please go," she said, biting her lip. "I would like some time alone."

They murmured their acknowledgement and left. Loisette was glad that at least they would be safe.

Tempos stepped into the room and shut the door, pulling his dagger back out and pointing it almost lazily at her. "Here are the rules, *Princess*."

"I'm a queen now," she snapped.

He rolled his eyes. "I beg your pardon, *Your Majesty*," he said sarcastically, giving a mock bow. "Here are the rules, *Queen*. You will stay here in your room until you agree to marry me."

"*What*?" she exclaimed.

Tempos ignored her outburst. "I'll be posting guards outside your door with instructions not to let you leave. They're loyal to me, so don't even bother trying to convince them with your feminine wiles to let you free. And as for your friends in the castle, well ... remember that my people are everywhere. They are more than willing to kill anyone who opposes me. My brother did a good job in weaving a web of followers who were more than willing to transfer their loyalties to the stronger dragon in this place."

"I've faced a dragon before," she growled. "You're nothing but a *snake*!"

He laughed. "You've got fire of your own. Good. I like that in a wife."

"I'll never marry you," she insisted, seeing a hint of movement out of the corner of her eyes. Turning her head slightly, she saw Robert Bigmouth leaving his hole. She wanted to call out and tell him to go back where it was safe, but she didn't want to draw Tempos's attention to him. She doubted he would hesitate to harm a mouse. "And I'm going to tell everyone what you did to that poor man."

"The evidence will be gone," Tempos told her. "And you know how people feel about women--they get hysterical over the smallest things. Besides, you won't be talking to anyone else until you marry me. And when I'm your husband, your word against mine will mean very little." He flashed his white teeth at her. "Besides, I have a new magician to help me out. Perhaps he can concoct a love potion for me."

Robert Bigmouth had finally scurried up a nearby table, and he now launched himself across the room, biting down with tiny rodent teeth on Tempos's dagger hand and causing him to drop the weapon with a muttered curse.

Loisette started to run toward the door, but then she heard a thud, and she turned and saw Robert Bigmouth sliding down the wall to the floor.

"No!" she cried out in fear and worry.

But Tempos had his dagger again, and her opportunity for escape had vanished. She hadn't used the distraction her friend had provided, and she hated herself for it. Why hadn't she continued on?

"A rat!" Tempos exclaimed in disgust as he approached her with his weapon. "Where's a flute player when you need one?"

"You monster," she spat before running past him to kneel by Robert Bigmouth's still body.

"Everyone keeps calling me that," Tempos said in a dry voice. "But you know what they say--sticks and stones may break my bones, but a crown is worth it all." Then he laughed at himself. "Now, *Your Majesty*, I'll be waiting outside your room until I can grab a guard, so don't think you'll be able to escape the moment I close the door." And then he left the room.

She made an angry and unintelligible noise beneath her breath before turning to her rodent friend. She picked him up and held him against her cheek, crying quietly.

***

Chapter 34: A Revelatory Shoe

For a few wretched minutes, Loisette's tears continued to fall on the tiny gray body she was cradling in her hand. But then she froze as she felt something soft tickle her skin.

Staring at the mouse--barely daring to hope--she gasped as she saw him open his eyes. As he shook his head to dispel the moisture that had landed on it, Loisette brought him up to her face and gave him a quick and ecstatic kiss.

"***Robert Bigmouth, you're alive!***" she said joyously. She'd been so distracted she hadn't noticed he was breathing!

He brought his hands up and smoothed his whiskers back, acting as if he hadn't just been thrown against a wall. His only reply was: "***Yeah.***"

Still holding him--not wanting to let him go, lest this turn out to be a daydream--Loisette hurried over to her desk and took out some cheese from the drawer. She placed it in her palm and watched with a smile as the mouse began to devour it.

"***Thank you for trying to help me,***" she murmured. "***I'm sorry I didn't take advantage of it.***"

But he was too busy eating to pay her any attention. Evidently, he recovered fast if food was involved.

Her heart feeling so much lighter, she lifted her eyes from the mouse to look at the trunk in front of her bed. She had initially been planning to move to the royal chambers after her coronation, but it looked like that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. Not that it mattered--right now, something as simple as sleeping arrangements meant nothing to her. She was in trouble, and she was going to have to save herself. That was all she needed to be focusing on at the moment.

Lowering Robert Bigmouth and his meal to the floor, she wiped her hand on her dress to remove any cheese crumbs and stepped toward her bed. Opening the trunk, she picked up the old blanket and took her Gawain clothes out of it. A few easy spins later, and she was dressed like a boy. She patted her crown and inhaled deeply before placing it and her feminine clothing into the trunk. She had an idea about what she needed to do. She only hoped it would work.

"***Wish me luck,***" she told the mouse, but he didn't even look at her. She smiled to herself and went up to the door and rapped on it loudly.

The door slowly opened, and a wary guard peeked in. His expression turned to one of surprise as he saw her. "Who are you?" He opened the door wider and stepped inside, looking around. "Where's the queen?"

Drawing on the self-defense techniques she had learned while sparring with Clarkent, she punched the guard in the solar plexus--knocking the wind out of him--and then kneed him in the groin. He sunk to the ground, groaning loudly, and a second guard called out, "What's going on?"

Loisette stepped flat against the wall and waited for the other guard to come in. His sword was drawn as he walked through the door, and he paused as he saw his partner on the ground.

Loisette kicked him in the back of his knee, causing his leg to buckle. Then she slammed her fist down on his neck. He fell forward onto the floor, and she ran out of the room. Fortunately, Tempos had believed two guards were enough to keep her imprisoned, so she didn't have to face any others.

Once she had several yards' worth of distance between her and her room, she slowed down. If she was going to get out of the castle alive, she would have to look like she had nothing to hide--like she was just a simple servant boy going about his duties. She didn't think the second guard had seen her, and the first guard would need some recovery time before he would be able to identify her ... She knew *that* after having accidentally kicked Clarkent in that particular spot* *during one of their mock-fights.

Despite knowing that, it was extremely difficult to slow her feet, and it didn't take her long to get to the castle's exit.

***

After the princess had left, Clarkent had stood and stared into nothingness, not sure how he should feel. His secret was finally out--and the princess hadn't exactly taken it well.

That came as no surprise. Deception wasn't exactly something to be taken lightly, especially since the princess had detested Clarkent's alter ego. Would she ever speak to him again? Or had he torn them asunder for good?

Despite the princess's irate feelings, he had known he couldn't stand idly by and let her life be ruined. Unfortunately, however, he'd had no idea how to navigate his way out of the woods.

Feeling helpless and frustrated, he had decided to get a few winks of sleep before trying his hand at navigating the maze of the forest. But then James had returned and woke him up and finally--after receiving a piece of Clarkent's mind, the giving of which made the stableboy feel better, even if he wasn't entirely sure the bird could *understand* it--led Clarkent out of the woods before disappearing once more.

This time, Clarkent wasn't wearing his armor as he went to the castle. He had brought his sword--not wanting to be weaponless--but he had known it wouldn't be a good idea for the Black Knight to be seen traipsing around the countryside. It was one thing to do said traipsing on a fast horse with the ability to outrun the authorities; it was another to do it on foot when no such ability was to be had. In addition, the armor was heavy, and he was tired enough that wearing it would sap most of his strength.

When he finally reached the castle, he went straight to the Riding Stable. He knew the stablehands were supposed to have already been dismissed from their duties due to the coronation, so he entered with only a small amount of trepidation. He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized no one was inside. If he still had his job after all this mess, he would have to apologize to Dwayne about missing so much of his work.

A snorting noise caused Clarkent to turn his head, and his eyes widened as he saw Phantom munching on some hay. A feeling of relief came over him. At least the horse hadn't just been set free to wander the kingdom. That relief quickly turned to anxiety, however. What if someone had recognized the horse as the Black Knight's? And what if the princess--no, she must be queen by now, right?--had mentioned his name in conjunction with Phantom? He shook his head. If that had happened, there was nothing he could do to change it.

He found that Phantom had already had his saddle removed and been groomed, so he put the horse's tack back on, thankful the destrier had been taken care of before the stablehands left for the day. Still, he worried about who had done it. Yet that seemed like it was the least of his problems.

Clarkent had no idea what was going on at the castle, and it made him nervous to be in the dark, but he was trying to think things through this time. If he *did* manage to extract the princess--no, *Queen Loisette*--from Alexander's grip, then they would need a way to escape. Hopefully, Loisette--why was it he wanted to think of her so familiarly?--would come with him willingly this time. If she came without a struggle, they would need two horses. If she demanded he let her stay ... well, he didn't want to think about what he would have to do. It could be that he would need to give up and just bide his time ... and he wasn't sure he could handle that.

After tacking High Flyer, he brought the horse out of his stall. Then, he went forward and started to lead Phantom out. That was when a noise caused him to turn. His body became rigid as he saw who was there.

Gawain was standing in the entryway and looking at him with a strange expression.

Clarkent took in a deep breath and gave a tight nod of greeting. Privately, he was panicking. What was he going to do? Gawain was familiar enough with the stable to know that Phantom didn't belong there. Gawain was smart, and considering his dislike of the Black Knight, it seemed more than likely that he would realize--if he hadn't already--that this was the Black Knight's horse.

Gawain stepped forward. "What are you doing?"

"Gawain," he rasped, his mouth dry. He couldn't explain what he was doing. He had to ask his friend to go. "If you value our friendship, please go away and don't ask me any questions."

Gawain gave him a confused look. "You want me to go away?"

Clarkent felt a pressure building in his chest. He didn't have time for this. He had to go and rescue Loisette before it was too late. He couldn't let her marry the Duke of Lutheria. He loved her too much for that.

The feeling in his chest had become an almost physical pain. He couldn't deny it any longer. He loved Loisette. He loved her with his whole heart, his whole being, his whole *soul*. He didn't know when it had happened, but he knew he couldn't stand to see her unhappily wed to *Alexander*. He held her happiness over his own--he would live in misery if it meant she would live a joyful life.

His voice shaky, he told his friend, "Go away, Gawain. Don't ask me questions. Just go."

"I'm not going to let you order me around," Gawain responded, obviously perturbed. He crossed his arms stubbornly.

Trembling, Clarkent lifted his hand and closed it around a horseshoe hanging on a nearby stall. He held the metal object behind his back and stepped forward. "Please, go away," he pleaded. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to hurt his friend. But he was willing to risk everything--his friendship with Gawain, his position at the castle, his stint as the Black Knight, his life and self-respect, *everything*--for Loisette's sake. He would do anything for her. He would die for her.

Gawain stared at him, not moving to leave. Clarkent clenched the horseshoe and stood right in front of his friend. Tears springing to his eyes--his heart aching--Clarkent whispered, "I'm so sorry," and he brought the horseshoe up in the air above Gawain's head. Gawain's eyes widened in fear.

A high-pitched noise sounded. There was a flash of tan. Then a painful blow to his chest sent Clarkent to the ground. The horseshoe clanged on the ground beside him.

He stared up in shock at High Flyer, who was standing nearby and almost seemed to be glaring down at him. And then, Clarkent, stunned at what had just happened, looked at Gawain.

It was as if a blindfold had been removed from Clarkent's eyes. A connection he had never before suspected was suddenly made. High Flyer, he realized, had been protecting his master ... or, to put it more properly, his mistress.

"Loisette?" Clarkent whispered.

***

Loisette hadn't been thinking when she entered the stable as Gawain. If she had, she would have realized the magic of her clothing prevented her from revealing her identity. But when she had gone in and Clarkent had started ordering her around, she'd found herself becoming annoyed. Who was *he* to tell her what to do?

And then he had lifted that horseshoe in the air, and she had suddenly felt frightened of him. Was he going to hurt her? To kill her? She wanted to shout out her identity, but she couldn't. She was helpless.

But High Flyer had saved her. He had brought his hooves down on Clarkent and sent him to the ground. Then Clarkent had said the last thing she had expected--her name.

She stared down at him, not certain she had heard him properly.

"Is it really you, Loisette?" Clarkent asked softly, sitting up and bringing a hand up to touch the part of his chest where he'd been hit.

She smiled at him with a surge of joy, her eyes filling with tears, and she pulled off her hat, letting her long hair flow down her shoulders. She felt suddenly free, and she dropped to her knees beside him, so glad he finally knew the truth about her. Her mind flashed back to what Imp had said: *"When—and only when--your true love proves himself willing to give up everything for you, then he will see you as you truly are, and the magic surrounding the clothes will disappear completely*." Did that mean--?

She suddenly embraced him, burying her face in his shoulder. "Clarkent ... " She didn't know what to say--how to express herself. All she knew was that it meant the world to her that he now knew the truth.

"I never realized ... " he whispered, putting shaky arms around her as he placed his face in her hair. "All that time we spent together--"

"I know," Loisette said, pulling back so she could look into his eyes. "Who would have thought that you were getting in mock-battles with a future queen?"

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before putting his hand on her cheek. He studied her for a few seconds, causing her to blush under his scrutiny, and then he said in wonderment, "How could I not have known? We've spent all this time together, and I never even realized it?"

"They're magic clothes," Loisette told him with a gentle smile. "They hid my identity from you. I couldn't--I couldn't tell you. The magic wouldn't let me. I wanted to, you know. I'm so sorry for everything. I haven't--I haven't been good to you."

He rubbed his thumb across her cheek, looking sad and guilty himself. "Lois," he said softly, causing a chill to travel down her spine. This was the second time he had used the shortened version of her name. It seemed so ... intimate. But the look in his eyes was one of pain, and he told her, "I almost hurt you in order to help you. If I had hit you--"

"But you didn't," she said. But his pain was still there, and she added in a low voice, "Clark."

His eyes darkened, and she stared into them, unsure whether she was drowning or flying. All she knew was that something big was happening to her. She felt her pulse speed up, and she was suddenly very conscious of her closeness to the stableboy. Her eyes flicked down to his lips, which were parted slightly, and then she leaned toward them, longing to feel them pressed against her own.

For perhaps a second, she was certain he was moving closer to her, but then he slowly retreated and shook his head. "No, Your Majesty," he said, his voice sounding hoarse. "We can't."

The distance between them--not physical, but emotional and mental--seemed to have turned into a great chasm. And that gaping hole was only made bigger when he lowered his arms from around her back.

"Clark," she said desperately, feeling cold now that they weren't touching, "I love you." She had been subconsciously fighting against it--but the realization of that statement's truth had suddenly sprung up within her even as the words were spoken. She stared at him, fearful of how he was going to respond.

He looked as if she had just hit him. His eyes widened, and the shock on his face was easy to read. There was a look of hope and maybe even gladness there--and then a shutter came down over him. He closed his eyes, his pained expression tearing at her heart. "You're the queen," he said quietly. "I'm not allowed to love you."

"Clark--" she protested. It felt as if a life which had abruptly become whole was now falling to pieces again.

Clarkent pulled further away and got to his feet, not looking at her. "We need to go." He walked over to Phantom and mounted him, still avoiding her eyes. "I have to protect you from Alexander."

She winced at that. "Alexander's dead, Clarkent."

"What?" he exclaimed, turning his head toward her.

"Now Tempos is the one who wants to force me to marry him," she admitted, staring down at her hands. "He had me locked up in my room, but I escaped. You were right that I was in danger."

Clarkent made a hissing noise. "Well, no matter who is coming after you, we need to get out of here. Get on High Flyer, and let's go."

Her eyes fell on his sword, and she realized she didn't want to feel like a hopeless damsel again. "I have a bow and quiver stashed near the archery targets," she said quietly. "Could we get them first? I would ... feel better having a weapon."

"You shouldn't need a weapon," he growled, but his face softened as she flinched. "I'm sorry. I'm just--stressed. We'll get your bow and arrows and go from there. But I'll protect you with my life, Your Majesty. You have my word."

<*Call me 'Lois' again,*> she thought to herself sadly. But she just nodded and walked toward High Flyer. There was a part of her that missed the fact that she could never be just "Gawain" to Clarkent again. It was better that he knew, yet she hated the distance between them. But there was nothing to be done but to accept it.

***

Unfortunately, someone recognized the queen as she was retrieving her weapons, and he sounded the alarm. Clarkent and Loisette then spurred their horses into a gallop, getting away from the castle as fast as they were able.

"We should return to Peri's cottage," Clarkent suggested, throwing a glance at her. High Flyer was running beside Phantom, so it was easy for him to talk to the queen. The fatigue that had been weighing down on him seemed to have dissipated for the time being. He was anxious, and the blood seemed to be pounding through his veins, purging any lethargy from his system.

"We don't have James to guide us," Loisette pointed out.

He hesitated. "We could go to my--the Black Knight's hideout."

He didn't miss the narrowing of her eyes. She told him, "I don't think that's a good idea. They'll be searching the whole kingdom for us."

"There's a concealment spell--"

She interrupted, "Tempos told me he has a new magician working for him. I don't know how powerful he is, but it's possible he can break through spells like that. There's only one place to go--Kryptonia."

"What?" Clarkent asked in confusion. "Kryptonia?"

"The Barbarian Kingdom," she specified. "Its true name is Kryptonia."

He frowned. "Then why do people call it the Barbarian Kingdom?"

"Prejudice, I guess. They're Metropolita's enemies, so it's easier to think of them as barbarians. But as queen, I think I should start calling the kingdom by its proper name. It only seems right."

"Your Majesty," Clarkent said uneasily, "there are all those bad stories--"

"Those 'bad stories' were made up to keep people in Metropolita," she told him. "I bet Kryptonians probably have similar stories about Metropolitans."

"I don't think it's a good idea," Clarkent insisted. "The last time--"

"The last time we were there, we were kids and didn't have any weapons," she pointed out firmly. It had been about four years before. "We'll be more careful this time--we need to sneak across and hide for a while. We could even put the horses somewhere and go into a village and see what it's like." She spurred on her mount, pulling ahead of her companion.

"The border guard is going to catch us," Clarkent called out after her. "This is a bad idea, Your Majesty!"

But she ignored him, concentrating only on guiding High Flyer toward Kryptonia.

Clarkent sighed and tried to let go of his fears. She was his queen, and he would follow her anywhere.

He just wished it felt more like he was following her into safety and less like he was following her headfirst into danger.

***

Chapter 35: The King of Kryptonia

Loisette and Clarkent had slowed their horses down a little after getting out of the immediate vicinity of the castle, and that turned out to be a mistake. The distant sound of pounding hooves and shouting came to their ears, and Clarkent threw a look of trepidation at the queen.

"I didn't think they would react that quickly, Your Majesty," he admitted, ashamed he hadn't made them push their horses harder. "We need to go faster." It was dark. If they were lucky, it would be hard for the guards to find them. Maybe that would save them.

She nodded grimly and leaned down to talk to High Flyer. "***Go as fast as you can,***" she told him. "***We're in trouble.***"

"***All right,***" the palfrey responded. He put on a burst of speed, and Clarkent's destrier followed suit.

As they approached the border, however, they still heard the far-off noise of their pursuers. It sounded as if they might be getting closer. It was going to be hard to lose them.

But then something happened they hadn't expected, and they were forced to stop High Flyer and Phantom abruptly. In front of them, from the Kryptonian side of the border, a line of fifteen armed horsemen had appeared.

A very unladylike curse escaped from the young queen's lips, and Clarkent glanced at her, surprised.

"It's the Green Guard," she told him tightly. "Watch out. If what Peri told me about them is true, the blades of those swords are poisonous. Don't let them touch you."

Clarkent nodded in acknowledgement, glancing from the visible threat to behind, where danger was still approaching. The Green Guard certainly looked formidable with their light green swords and dark green armor. But he didn't know how many Metropolitan guards were approaching. They were trapped between a dragon and a chimera. Neither option was good.

"What are we going to do?" Loisette asked him quietly.

"I don't know," Clarkent returned, his body rigid. If only he'd been able to bring his armor--then he would have had a chance in this battle. As it was, the situation looked hopeless. He was willing to protect the queen with his life ... but what if all his actions turned out for naught?

To the front of the Kryptonian line of men came a brown-haired man in golden armor. A dragon was perpetually rearing on his blue and gold shield, and a regal crown sat on top of his bare head. His beard and mustache merged into each other, but rather than make him appear cultured, it made him appear sinister. Was this the Barbarian King whom Clarkent had heard so much about?

"So," proclaimed the crowned young man loudly, "I have finally captured the thief of the Metropolitan princess." He looked at Loisette with a dubious expression. "I must admit, however, the miniature of you which Tempos sent me made me think you would be much prettier."

"I am *queen* now, King North," Loisette growled, sitting up straight on her horse and looking every part the queen despite the fact that she was wearing boy's clothing. "And no one has *stolen* me."

Clarkent threw her a *look*--she shouldn't have revealed her identity like that, though he guessed it had been foolish of him not to make her put her hat back on at the stable to make her identity less obvious--and told King North in a voice filled with confidence he didn't quite feel, "You haven't caught her yet. You'll have to go through me first." To Loisette, he said in a low voice, "Go hide by the enchanted blade."

She threw a look at the sword in the stone and then glanced back at him. It was obvious she was about to protest, and he pleaded, "Please, Your Majesty." He couldn't concentrate on fighting if he was worried she would get caught in the crossfire.

Hesitating only for a second more, she nodded, and then she obliged, guiding High Flyer over to the object in question. Then she dismounted and stood directly behind the stone for cover, causing Clarkent to breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

North watched the queen's actions in amusement. "You believe you can protect her from me and my men all by yourself?" He stared at the enchanted sword and scoffed, "Do you think yourself the next ruler of Kryptonia? Is that why you believe that *stone* will offer her some refuge?"

Clarkent had no idea what King North was talking about, but he had no time to consider it, as the king then gave his men the signal to attack.

The fight had begun.

***

For a few minutes, Loisette watched in awe as Clarkent battled his opponents on horseback. The stableboy fought like ten men. He must have really been going soft on her whenever they sparred together. She had never seen him like this.

But though he was obviously strong--likely having enhanced his skills during his time as the Black Knight--he was outnumbered and in desperate need of help. She had to stop watching and start concentrating on doing something to help him.

Loisette nocked an arrow and shot it off at a man. It bounced off his armor, and she narrowed her eyes. She would have to aim more carefully.

Suddenly, however, she had an idea.

"***High Flyer,***" she called out. "***Can you guide some of the other horses here one at a time? Maybe I can convince them to turn on their masters.***" They needed every advantage they could get.

"***Yes,***" the horse replied shortly. He trotted away, and she concentrated once more on utilizing her bow and arrow as best as she could.

Aiming slowly, she let fly another arrow, and this one landed in the weak spot beneath a man's arm. "Yes!" she crowed. She didn't want to kill anyone, but she was pleased at the painful inconvenience she had caused that man. He cried out and yanked at the arrow and flung it to the ground.

She loosed a few unsuccessful arrows, and then High Flyer managed to press a horse close enough to Loisette that she could hold a conversation with it.

"***What's your name?***" Loisette asked hastily.

The black and white horse's human was fighting to pull it back into the fray. "***Sonata,***" the horse answered.

"***Can you please try to keep your master away from my friend? This is not a fair fight, and I don't want my friend hurt.***"

The horse glanced at Clarkent, who was ducking one sword and pushing back another. "***You are right, human. I will try. I dislike bloodshed.***"

"***Thank you,***" Loisette said, watching the angry rider pull Sonata away.

Loisette was able to speak to a few more of the horses as she continued using her bow. She was adding to the confusion of the fight, and she prayed it would be enough to make her and Clarkent get out of this alive. Sweat was already pouring down the stableboy's face. She wasn't sure what else she could do. She could try to steal someone's sword, but she just didn't have enough confidence in her skills as a sword-fighter. She had only practiced with sticks, not real blades.

She suddenly noticed a horseman coming up behind Clarkent, who was already embroiled in a sword-fight with two other opponents.

"***Help him!***" she shouted out to the horses, hoping one would listen to her.

Sonata rushed forward at her call and bumped into the horse whose rider was about to attack Clarkent. The man dropped his sword and flailed out, grabbing a hold of Clarkent and bringing him down to the ground with him. Phantom leapt aside so as not to crush his rider. Clarkent rolled away from his opponent and jumped to his feet, holding his sword at the ready. A nearby man on horseback swiped at him, but Clarkent dodged the attack. Loisette watched him, worried.

***

Clarkent was exhausted.

His morals wouldn't allow him to kill anyone, and it wasn't exactly easy to knock someone out who was wearing armor, especially since he wasn't well rested. So far, he and Loisette had succeeded in incapacitating five men--the incapacitation of one of those men owing to the fact that his horse actually ran away from the battle--but there were still too many left for them to defeat.

Clarkent slashed and dodged and parried, but he was tiring quickly. And then he heard the thud of hooves and turned. A horse was bearing down on him.

He braced himself for the impact even as he tried to get out of the way. But the horse missed him at the last second. It was instead the lashing out of a rider's foot that knocked him to the ground, his sword flying out of his hand.

"No," he groaned helplessly. He ran to get the sword, but a man had already dismounted and picked it up. Clarkent backed away, knowing it would be difficult to retrieve the weapon now. And then, unexpectedly, someone grabbed at his arms and pinned them behind his back. He struggled, kicking backward, but the armor--which a sword might have succeeded in piercing—withstood his attacks, and no amount of squirming would make the knight release him. And then his own sword was pointed at his throat. Irony was laughing him in the face. Was he doomed to die by his own blade?

The noise of battle had quieted now that he had been captured, so he was able to hear approaching hoofbeats. He and his captors turned to see who was coming.

Six horses were approaching, the front one of which was bearing Tempos on its back. Clarkent felt like cursing. Of course *he* would show up. Things couldn't get much worse.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Tempos said loudly. He was wearing a gold and red tunic, as if announcing his royal aspirations to the world. "I had come to have a friendly chat with you, King North, but it appears you aren't a fan of conversation." Though no one was fighting anymore, the disorder of battle was still readily evident.

King North, who had kept out of the fight, gave him a slight smile. Nodding toward Loisette, he said, "We have captured your queen and your thief."

"It's like Yuletide and my birthday all wrapped up in one," Tempos said in amusement.

The man holding Clarkent pointed his own blade at the stableboy's throat. The man with Clarkent's sword then went up to King North with it.

"His sword, Your Majesty," the man said, holding the sword up for his ruler to take. The king frowned down at it, running a hand along the hilt.

"My, what a big sword you had," Tempos sneered at Clarkent.

"The better to defeat evil men like you with," Clarkent growled in return.

Tempos laughed. "I like you. You've got spirit. It's too bad I'll have to kill you." He brought his horse up in front of the Kryptonian king. "I have to thank you for helping me with these little pests. The Black Knight has been a thorn in my side for too long."

Clarkent's eyes widened. Tempos ... knew?

Glancing at Clarkent and seeing his expression, Tempos chuckled. "You think I don't recognize that horse you're riding? I've seen it twice. I make it my business to know horses just as I make it my business to know the people working at the castle. I have to admit, though, I wouldn't think the queen would go for the stableboy type. I guess you never can tell."

Clarkent narrowed his eyes and growled.

"Ha ha, the little horse keeper is angry, isn't he?" Tempos said, smiling sinisterly.

King North cleared his throat. "I was glad to help you--and now I shall help myself." He lifted his hand, and a Green Guardsman on horseback near Tempos plunged a sword into the duke's chest and then removed it.

Tempos looked down at the bleeding wound in his chest in a detached way. "You know, I expected more of a back-stabbing than a front-stabbing, but I guess we can't have everything." Then he stared at King North defiantly for a few seconds before slumping on his horse.

King North's Green Guard sprung into action, attacking Tempos's men. The Metropolitans were slow to respond, overcome as they were by the betrayal of their master, but they nonetheless started to fight back.

In the confusion, Clarkent managed to break free of his captor and escape to the great stone Loisette was taking cover behind. She lunged forward and embraced him. "Clarkent, I was so scared they were going to kill you," she told him.

"They still might," he said grimly. But he looked down at her soft brown hair and softened. Then he placed a kiss on her head, deeply inhaling her scent before lifting his gaze to look at the battle waging before them. "But I won't let them kill you. I can't."

"Clark," she whispered. "Can't we escape? Maybe they won't notice us."

"We have to finish this, Lois," he told her in a quiet voice, squeezing her tightly. <*This could be the last time I hold her,*> he thought. <*No matter what happens, I won't let her die. Somehow, I'll save her from this monster of a king.*>

He pressed one more kiss on her, this one on her forehead, and then he pulled away. If he was going to fight, he would need a weapon. He had only one hope.

He hoisted himself to the top of the large rock and wiped some sweat off his brow nervously. If this didn't work, he didn't know what he would do. It was his last chance.

He stepped up to the sword in the stone, wrapping his hands around the hilt. Closing his eyes and throwing a prayer heavenward, he pulled upward with all his might.

A loud noise split the air.

***

Chapter 36: Birthright

Cheen watched in bitter disgust as the other members of the Green Guard attacked the Metropolitan soldiers. He hated fighting in situations like this--he hated when the opponent was so obviously outnumbered. It felt more like a slaughter.

He and his wife Araz had initially jumped at the opportunity for him to be part of the Green Guard. They had thought it would be a great honor. He had always been skilled with weapons. He could throw a dagger with pinpoint accuracy, and there were few who could best him in a sword-fight. He was meant to be a fighter, and he had believed the Green Guard to be a good fit for himself.

But he had soon found that the newly crowned king was no better than his usurper of a father. King North was cruel, and he was hurting the Kryptonian people by levying heavy taxes and turning a blind eye to injustices. And--to make things worse--he had also been leering at Araz lately. It made Cheen nervous. Kryptonian law dictated that one man could not take another's wife—but that was only so long as that other man was living. Did the king want Cheen to die so he could marry Araz? Would the king find an excuse to kill Cheen himself? His greed was such that Cheen would not put it past him.

Most of the other members of the Green Guard shared Cheen's unease about what the king made them do. Even if Cheen hadn't been part of their hushed conversations behind closed doors, he would have been able to guess at their wavering loyalty at a battle like this.

Though the knights of the Green Guard were fighting and winning, they were not giving it their all. While the young man they had attacked had shown his impressive strength and skill in battle--and the queen in boy's clothing had proven herself quite able of assisting him from afar--there was no way the two young people could have been a match for the well-trained men of the Green Guard when they were fighting at their best. But the Green Guards *weren't* fighting at their best. They were sick of serving a cruel ruler, and they were ready for change ... but no one wished to be covered with the taint of treason. And so they fought, though it was half-hearted.

Cheen moved his horse closer--there wasn't really room for another horse to move into the fray, but he wanted King North to at least think him alert--only to almost drop his reins at the sound of a loud *crack*.

Swiveling his body toward the source of the noise, he stared in wonder. The large stone once holding the enchanted blade had split into two. And the young man who'd fought so skillfully had the sword in his hands.

Cheen's eyes widened in surprise. Only the rightful ruler of Kryptonia was supposed to be able to pull it out--as the script on the now-cracked stone had read.

Cheen turned his gaze toward King North, who was staring at the boy with a stunned expression. "Kallel?" North breathed in disbelief. "Is it you? You're alive?"

Hope suddenly flooded Cheen's heart. Without any hesitation, he brought his horse closer to the young man. Then he dismounted and walked forward.

Wary, the boy held his sword at the ready, glancing behind briefly to where the queen was still down on the ground at the base of the rock. But Cheen had no desire to hurt either of them. Instead, he dropped to his knees and bowed.

Tentative tendrils of joy were spreading through the Kryptonian knight. Was this the change he had been hoping for? He barely dared believe it was.

He raised his head as he heard a noise behind him.

***

North's horse galloped over to the great stone, and the king leapt down with his sword drawn.

"Be careful," Clarkent warned Loisette. But though she was still on the ground and he was up on the stone, he knew she wasn't in danger. North was coming for him.

The Kryptonian king jumped up onto the cracked rock, his green blade flashing downward. Clarkent met it with his own silver sword.

"I will kill you," growled King North. His eyes were filled with fury as he glared at his opponent.

"We'll see about that," Clarkent returned. He shoved his sword forward and to the side, pushing North off the left of the rock. Then he jumped down beside him, making sure to keep himself between North and Loisette.

North's sword flashed once, twice, three times--Clarkent beat it back, his gaze unwavering. Then North kicked him in the knee, and he stumbled backward. North's sword came crashing down, and Clarkent ducked to the side. It missed his head, but it sliced down the flesh of his left arm.

Clarkent hissed in pain. His shoulder was burning far more than he would have expected. Did that mean Loisette was right? *Were* the swords poisoned? Were the toxins going to spread through his body?

He heard Loisette gasp, "Clarkent!"

"Your little queen is worried about you," sneered North as he parried the stableboy's sword. "Perhaps I ought to kill her so you won't be distracted by her screams anymore."

"*No*!" Clarkent growled, lunging forward. He would protect Loisette no matter what.

Clarkent made one thrust and then another, his attacks like the strike of a snake. A blow to the shoulder. A sudden punch to the face. A kick to the stomach. A strike to the underarm. Clarkent's attacks were relentless.

Though some of his strikes were rendered useless by North's armor, Clarkent continued to fight like a madman. His fury boiled inside him, urging him on. His wild barrage surprised the king and sent him backward, forcing him to remain on the defense. Clarkent had to win for the queen. He *had* to.

Clarkent pushed his opponent's sword arm aside. Then he shoved his shoulder into North's chest with all his might. The king went toppling to the ground.

Clarkent glared down at him, his chest heaving. His sword was pointed at North's throat. "I won't let you hurt the queen," Clarkent said in a low voice. He would fight for Loisette until his dying breath.

North swallowed, his eyes fixed on the sword. "Green Guard!" he growled, a note of desperation in his voice. "Come protect your king!"

Clarkent watched him carefully, wary for any sudden movements. He tensed and listened for the sound of horse hooves indicating the approach of his enemies. Instead, he only heard the sound of feet hitting the ground.

Taking in a deep breath--his vision was beginning to swim a little now, the effects of the poison taking hold—Clarkent turned his head. His jaw dropped.

The Kryptonians were bowing to him.

"What?" Clarkent whispered in disbelief. What was happening? He shook his head, trying to clear it. Was he hallucinating?

***

Loisette had been almost certain they were going to die. Though Clarkent was an excellent swordsman, he was outnumbered. And Loisette's bow couldn't help much due to the Green Guard's armor.

So when the Kryptonian knights got off their horses, she feared they were going to overcome Clarkent by attacking him all at once. Instead, they dropped to the ground and bowed their heads.

King North appeared just as taken aback as she was. When he finally found his voice, he hissed, "Rise, you imbeciles! *I* am your king! Not this tattered *boy*!"

But the knights of the Green Guard did not obey.

Loisette stared at them, but there was no trace of tension in their stances. Her head turned when she saw a flash of movement, but it was just Clarkent taking a few steps away from North.

"What are you doing?" he asked the bowing Kryptonians. Loisette understood his confusion--minutes ago, they had been his opponents. Now, they simply remained kneeling, their heads bowed in respect and submission.

Was it connected to the sword? She fixed her eyes on the blade, which was hanging down by Clarkent's side now.

And then there was another flash of movement, and Loisette gasped out in warning for Clarkent, "No!"

***

At Loisette's cry, Clarkent turned. North was charging toward him.

Clarkent tried to step aside and bring up his sword, but the poison was draining his energy. His movements were too slow. He wouldn't to be able to block the blow. He closed his eyes and waited for death to come.

But instead of pain and darkness, there was a gargling noise and a sharp intake of breath.

Clarkent opened his eyes. North was slumping to the ground, a dagger embedded in his throat.

In confusion, Clarkent turned his head. One of the Kryptonians was standing, his arm still raised in the air. He had to have been the one that threw the dagger. It was the man who had first bowed to him.

"Why did you do that?" Clarkent asked him. North had been his ruler. Why would he do something so treasonous?

"He was trying to kill my king," the Kryptonian replied, as if it were obvious. "I could not let him do that."

Clarkent's surprise--which was already great--grew. "*K-king*?" he sputtered.

"Yes, his '*king*,'" a familiar voice confirmed loudly.

Clarkent looked across what had minutes before been a battlefield and saw Peri approaching with his staff in hand. "Peri?" he said, surprised to see the magician.

One of the Kryptonians gasped, and another said, "Is that the Merlin? I thought he was dead."

Clarkent blinked his eyes, trying to fight against the poison. "How did you find me?" he managed.

"James found me," Peri explained as he stepped up to him. His eyes fell down to Clarkent's bleeding arm. "North got you with his sword?"

"Yes," Clarkent confirmed. Then his knees buckled. Fortunately, Peri caught him before he hurt himself. Then he lowered the young man gently to the ground.

"Clarkent!" Loisette called out as she ran to him. She knelt as soon as she reached him and took his right hand in hers. "Are you all right?" Her face appeared above his.

He gave her a small smile. "You're alive, Your Majesty. Of course I am." As he stared up at her, he thought about how beautiful she was, even in her Gawain clothes. She was his battlefield angel--his warrior queen. He loved her so much. He wouldn't have been able to live with himself if she had died.

"I will try to draw the poison out of your system," Peri said as he brought out his medicine pouch. He spoke in a low voice so their conversation wouldn't be overheard by the nearby Green Guard. "We can't have Kryptonia's new king dying of a wounded arm."

"New king?" Clarkent echoed, blinking the haze out of his eyes. "Why does everyone keep saying that?" he asked. He hissed as Peri touched his arm.

"Because you pulled the sword out of the stone," Peri told him with a smile. "Before North's father was king, *yours* was, Kallel."

"What do you mean?" Clarkent said in confusion. "Kallel? My father?" His head was swirling, and he was finding it hard to understand anything.

"Your birth name is Kallel," explained Peri slowly, "and your father was Joreth. When you were an infant, he and your mother, Laural, feared that the ambitions of North's father would lead to your death. I was Joreth's court magician and counselor, and he entrusted me to find a good home for you in Metropolita."

"Joreth was right to think there would be danger," Loisette said softly. Her fingers were gently rubbing Clarkent's unwounded arm, causing it to tingle in a pleasant way that distracted him from the pain of his other arm. "He got killed, and North's father married Laural."

Peri nodded, looking sad. "In order to hear important news about both kingdoms, I established myself as court magician in Metropolita, replacing the scamp who used to be here. I came upon James, and he helped me find Marta and Jon."

"You know my parents?" Clarkent asked, trying to keep the conversation straight in his head. Peri's work on his arm was starting to take effect. He began to sit up, but Peri gently pushed him back down. Clarkent sighed in frustration but remained on his back nonetheless. It felt weird to be lying down with all those people staring at him. But Peri wasn't finished with him yet, and Clarkent truthfully wasn't sure if he could stand. The fury of fighting North might have kept the poison at bay, but it had really flooded his system once the king was killed.

"I do know them," Peri confirmed. "I speak with them from time to time. They like to know how you are--they fear you leave things out of your letters."

Clarkent couldn't help but feel a little hurt. "If they knew who I was, why didn't they ever tell me?" he asked. They could have let him know when they told him he was adopted.

"It wasn't fair for a king to grow up as a stableboy," Peri said with a sigh. "But I needed you to be somewhere close to me so I could watch over you, and there were no ideal occupations for you because of the Assigning." He shook his head. "I didn't want you to know about your heritage in case things didn't work out. I had to wait until you were strong enough to face North on your own. Dwayne helped me keep an eye on you—he was one of the people at the castle who I knew I could trust with your secret."

"The sword in the stone--how does *it *play into all this?" Loisette ventured, squeezing Clarkent's hand. He smiled at her and was overjoyed when she smiled back. Having Peri heal him didn't seem so bad when she was with him. He wished she would never let go of his hand. He never wanted to let go of hers.

"I got that from the Lady of the Lake," Peri told her.

Clarkent--though wrapped up in thoughts of Loisette--was paying enough attention that he caught what Peri said, and his eyes widened. "She's real?"

Loisette punched his shoulder lightly. "I told you!"

Clarkent grinned at her. That was Gawain shining through the young woman. Then again--the princess had liked being right, too.

"I thought the Kryptonian people needed a symbol that all was not lost," Peri told them, drawing Clarkent's attention back to him. "The sword's magic was strong by itself. When I applied my magic to it, the spell created was powerful indeed. You were the only one who could have pulled that sword out, Clarkent. And now these Kryptonians know you're their king beyond a doubt." He gestured for Clarkent to rise; he was done with the poisoned arm.

Carefully, Clarkent got to his feet, Loisette and Peri assisting him. All the knights of the Green Guard had their eyes on him. He was ... their king? Truly? This wasn't some facade or dream, was it?

Peri, perhaps sensing his doubt, said loudly for all to hear, "This is Kallel, the rightful king of Kryptonia. He pulled the sword from the stone and proved his worth to us all."

The man who had killed North looked up at Clarkent and smiled. Then he responded to Peri's pronouncement with a shout: "Long live the king!"

His cry was echoed by the other Kryptonians.

Clarkent looked at them, wide-eyed, and Loisette stepped up beside him and squeezed his right arm. "Long live the king," she whispered back with a smile, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Though still overwhelmed by all that had happened, there was one thought resonating in his head: he was no longer a stableboy, but a king ... and kings *were* allowed to love queens.

He placed his right arm around Loisette and pressed her up against him. Despite almost dying, it was the happiest day of his life.

***

Chapter 37: Unity

Loisette stared at Clarkent and hid her grin. It was the day of his coronation ceremony, and he was squirming under everyone's scrutiny. He obviously didn't feel the part of a king. But he certainly looked it.

He was dressed in blue and gold. In fact, his outfit was very similar to what he had worn at Loisette's birthday ball, though the gold cape he had on now was much heavier and lined with ermine. Like before, his chest bore a rearing dragon, which was the symbol of Kryptonian royalty. His tunic showed off the broadness of his chest and shoulders, and that in conjunction with his fine clothing and the muscles he'd built up over the years gave his form a powerful look that befit a king.

She allowed herself to stare at him without any reservations. She studied the line of his jaw, the softness of his eyes, the slight curl of his dark bangs over his forehead ... He was a handsome man--deep down, she'd always known that--but to see him here like this really drove the realization home to her. He had such strength of character and body ... and now he would have the power of the crown to go along with it. He would make a wonderful king.

She glanced beside her at Clarkent's parents. He'd refused to have the coronation until they were there, though his new Kryptonian advisors had wanted him to be crowned as soon as possible since they didn't want their kingdom to be kingless for long. Loisette had shaken her head with a smile at his stubbornness, but she hadn't argued with him. She knew his parents would want to be there.

Marta caught her movement and gave her a warm look. She and Jon had been given a quick explanation of the connection between Loisette and Gawain before the ceremony, and though they had been surprised, they had also seemed strangely glad. "I hadn't realized my son was so close to royalty," Marta had whispered with a wink, and Loisette had flushed. But there hadn't been time to point out that Marta's son *was* royalty before they were whisked away to the ceremony, so Loisette had been forced to stifle her reply.

After leaving the border between Kryptonia and Metropolita, however, Clarkent had made Loisette go to the stable with him. He had brought out a book from underneath a pile of hay and handed it to her.

"I was going to give you this as part of your birthday present along with the necklace," he had told her.

She had opened the book and gasped as she realized its subject. "This is about your mother."

"I know that now," he had acknowledged with a smile, "though I didn't when I first got it. I was thinking ... maybe we could read it together?"

"I'd like that," she had told him.

They still had yet to crack it open again, but she knew they would. It would be nice for them to learn something about the family he had never known.

The former stableboy's gaze found Loisette's across the room, and she smiled at him. He beamed back at her, the traces of discomfort disappearing as their eyes connected. His gaze then shifted from her to his parents, who also smiled at him.

The words of the ceremony were lost to Loisette, who could barely even remember what had been said at her own coronation. She was too lost in thought to pay attention to anything but Clarkent. But when they finally placed the crown on his head, she felt her chest swell with pride. She thought again to herself, <*He will make a wonderful king.*>

***

The Black Mage stared with no small measure of bitterness as people stepped forward to swear fealty to Kryptonia's new king.

He had not been able to convince North or his father of their need to imitate their successors and employ a court magician. Though they hadn't said it explicitly, both North and his father had disliked the idea of having someone around who might be stronger than them. It didn't look like he'd be getting employed by the new king either--the boy was too friendly with Peregrine the White for that to be a feasible possibility.

If only he had known the stableboy was a king--then he could have really caused some mischief. Maybe he could have even "befriended" him, cultivating good relations for the time when the boy became Kryptonia's ruler. But that despicable White Mage had kept the boy's identity under wraps.

He hated White Mages. They were always interfering.

His stint as the reinstated court magician of Metropolita had been short indeed, and it made him feel very sour. The new queen had brought back Peregrine to the position, blasted usurper as he was.

Things just hadn't worked out as he had planned. He had thought that creating some mischief with Princess Loisette would work as suitable revenge on King Samuel for replacing *him*, the Mystical Sorcerer. His "deals" with people had been disliked by King Samuel, who had jumped at the opportunity to employ Peregrine the White in his stead.

After that, he had wanted vengeance. And he had thought the best way to achieve that was to toy with the king's daughter.

Even after the king died, he figured he could at least make the dead man roll over in his grave by ruining his only child. But the spell surrounding the clothing had been broken--and not by him. He had privately hoped to at last find a good opportunity to reveal to Tempos that Loisette had been running around as a boy, but then Tempos had to go and get himself killed, and the clothing spell had been broken before there was really a chance for the Black Mage to bring his plans to fruition.

He wanted to lash out one more time at this group of people who had foiled all his mischief. He had bided his time--hoping he could still one day become absolute ruler of absolutely everything--to no avail. They needed to pay. They had torn everything he had worked for to pieces, making his patience worthless.

But he couldn't decide what to do. A blazing fire at the coronation? A gift of a cursed shield? Or perhaps a cursed hairbrush?

He stared at the Metropolitan queen. She was utterly oblivious to his presence, too caught up with staring at her one true love, who seemed just as intent on giving her goo-goo eyes across the room.

Dragon's bones, how he hated lovers.

***

Peregrine frowned to himself. He had been watching the room carefully, fearing some of North's followers would be present and bent on revenging his death by killing Kallel. He could sense some sort of malicious presence, but he was having difficulty pinpointing its location.

Finally, he found it. Though the man was in a black cloak that covered his face, Peri realized who it was immediately. And he saw that the man was staring at Queen Loisette.

As inconspicuously as he could, Peri went over to stand by Loisette. She glanced at him briefly in surprise.

"I have a question for you, Your Majesty," he murmured, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead.

"All right," she whispered back, looking nervous.

"Did you make a deal with the Mystical Sorcerer?"

There was a pause before she answered. "I did make a deal with a magician," she said slowly. "But I broke the spell--nothing bad came out of it."

Peri heaved a sigh of relief. That was one of the best things she could have said. Though the Mystical Sorcerer was a powerful magician, someone who had broken one of his spells would have a measure of control over him if they knew one vital thing. "I am glad to hear that," he told her. "Please, come with me."

She looked at Kallel with a frown, obviously loath to leave since the coronation ceremony was not finished, but then she nodded. She excused herself from Marta and Jon and went with Peri.

The Mystical Sorcerer was standing at the back of the room. Upon seeing them, he slipped out, but they followed him.

"Stop," Peri said in a firm but low voice.

The Black Mage did as he said and turned, pulling down his hood and revealing his perturbed expression. "What do you want, *White Mage*?"

"I told you not to make any more of your 'deals' with people," Peri said, his tone harsh.

"You are not the boss of me," the man said, crossing his arms. "I can do whatever I want."

"I will not let you run around ruining people's lives like a child whose toy was taken away," Peri told him.

"Oh, really? And how are you going to stop me?" challenged the Mystical Sorcerer.

Peri leaned down next to Loisette and whispered in her ear.

She nodded, and a small smile spread across her face. "I command you to leave ... Mxyzptlk." The last word was said slowly but properly.

The man's eyes widened. "How did you know my true name?" His whined question sounded strangely pathetic. He knew, as Peri did, that he had no choice but to leave. Part of his strength was tied up in the fact that his name was rarely spoken--but now Loisette had said it aloud. His game was up.

"I have my ways," Peri returned. "Now, you must go."

Mxyzptlk sighed. "You really have ruined my fun. But I guess I'll go. Perhaps I can find another lonely princess to fool."

Peri gazed at him sternly and watched as the magician left. Finally, he turned to Loisette. "You should have nothing more to worry about from him, Your Majesty."

"Thanks, Peri," she said with a smile. "I had worried a little bit after I broke the spell. I wasn't sure if he would know about it."

"Well, it's over now," he said. "Perhaps one day you can tell me more about what that spell actually was, Your Majesty. But for now, let us return to Kallel's coronation." It was so nice to be able to speak the name the young man had been given at birth. Peri had barely even let himself think it for years.

***

After the ceremony, Clarkent--now King Kallel--went and hugged his parents. Loisette watched him, her heart bursting with joy for how things had turned out for them all. Clarkent would never have to worry about his parents' situation again.

"We're so proud of you," Marta told him, tears in her eyes. "You deserve to be happy."

"I'm just glad I'll finally be able to really help you," he returned with a grin. "You'll be living here from now on. And I'll be able to see you as much as I want!"

Jon laughed. "We'll enjoy seeing you more often, too, son."

Clarkent embraced his parents once more and then turned to Loisette. "Hi," he said softly.

"Hi," she replied, smiling at him. When he had spoken to her, something inside her had jumped. It was as if there was something charged in the air between them. A warm look from him was enough to make her weak, nervous, and happy all at once. She wasn't sure how he managed to do that to her. But she liked it.

Without another word, he offered her his arm, which she took, and he led her outside to the courtyard. It was more secluded there, so she was glad. She had wanted to be away from all those people.

He sat her down on the bench and then lowered himself to sit beside her. So much had happened in such a short time--it was nice that they could have this time alone. They needed to unwind a little.

"You're wearing the necklace I gave you," he noted, a happy grin tugging at his lips.

"I am," she said warmly, reaching up to slide a thumb across the pegasus. A part of her never wanted to take the necklace off.

"Why did you leave during the ceremony?" he asked abruptly, sounding a little worried. "Is everything all right?"

She nodded reassuringly. "I'll tell you more about it later." She didn't want to waste their time together by talking about something negative. The explanation could wait.

"All right," he said, perhaps thinking along the same lines. He picked up one of her hands and lightly slid his fingers back and forth across it, causing goose bumps to spread all over her arm. Then he lifted her hand and placed a kiss on it. "Lois," he whispered, the name causing her breath to catch in her throat, "I've loved you for so long. I tried to fool myself into believing otherwise, but I never really succeeded. You don't know how I've ached to tell you how I feel, but a stableboy has no right to utter such words to a princess. I love you so much."

Loisette gave him a crooked smile. "What about the boy part of me?"

He chuckled. "I love every bit of you, Your Majesty, from your head down to your toes."

"Please," she murmured, "call me 'Lois.'"

"Lois," he said, his voice husky and his eyes dark with passion. Her gaze was fixed on him, and she couldn't have looked away even if she'd wanted to. "My brave adventurer. My wonderful friend. My spirited filly."

That last phrase broke the reverie Loisette had slipped into, and she shook her head in disbelief. "You *would* compare me to a horse--"

"My beautiful young lady," he continued, narrowing his eyes slightly at her interruption. "My ... " He frowned, having run out of descriptions.

Loisette laughed at him and patted his leg. "There will be plenty of time to write me love letters and sonnets in the future."

"I suppose you're right, *Your Majesty*," he stated, smiling.

She tilted her head, looking at him. "You know, I can call *you* that now, too, *Your Majesty*."

"No, I'm just a simple stableboy," he denied. He lifted his hands in the air for emphasis.

"Then what's that thing on your head?" she asked him, reaching up to tug at his crown. He brought his arm up and lowered her hand, engulfing it in his.

"That's just a decoration," he told her. He was staring into her eyes again. They had been oscillating between seriousness and play, both of them nervous about what was happening between them, but now it had turned to pure seriousness. For a moment, she felt as if they were frozen in time. It was just him and her and their insurmountable and titanic feelings for each other. Before, they'd had to fight against those feelings. Now, there was nothing to hold them back. There was no need to fight them.

"I love you," he whispered, choked with emotion.

"I love you," she returned, melting under the intensity of his gaze.

"Lois--I have to ask you something. Some may see me as a king; others knew me only as the Black Knight. But deep down, I'll always be a stableboy. I'm not sophisticated like a Metropolitan

Noble, and I'll probably never be a great dancer. But I know how I feel ... and I know that I need you to do me—a stableboy-turned-king--a tremendous favor."

"And what is that?" she murmured, caught in his eyes and the emotion of his voice.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, sounding almost desperate as he brought one of her hands up and pressed it against his chest. The gentle throbbing beneath her fingers was slightly faster than normal.

She gave him a half-smile. "I guess every king needs his little queen."

"Little queen?" he repeated, sounding startled. "That's not what I mean," he proclaimed firmly, shaking his head with vehemence. "I want you to be my equal, Lois. You will never be inferior to me. *Never*. Both Princess Loisette and Gawain were my good friends--pieces of my soul. I would never wish to rule you. But with you as my equal, we could do great things together--we could unite our kingdoms back into Solaria. We could heal that break."

After being viewed of late as a marriageable item rather than a person, hearing words like that felt comforting. She smirked at Clarkent and said teasingly, "I'm not going to have to ride sidesaddle, am I?"

He laughed at her question and shook his head. "No, Lois, no. Not if you don't want to. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy."

She raised an eyebrow. "What about our people?"

"Them, too," he returned with a grin. He pushed her hand harder against his chest. "This heart inside me--it beats only for you. You make it--you make it gallop ... like a whole herd of High Flyers."

Loisette couldn't help but snort. "Again with the horses?"

"Remember--I will always be a stableboy at heart, my queen."

"And that's just how I like you," she told him. "Of course I'll marry you. I never could have married anyone but you."

"I'm glad to hear that," he murmured. And then he crushed her against him and claimed her lips for his own.

***

The marriage of a king and queen was not an easy affair. There was a contract to sign--How many days out of the year were they required at each castle? What would the dowry be? How would heirs be handled? What power would they hold in each other's kingdoms?--and though Loisette and Clarkent believed much of it would become meaningless when they finally drew up the new Solarian government, their royal advisors insisted on following protocol, and neither monarch had wanted to fight against them for long.

Finally, however, the wedding day came.

Much to the frustration of royal advisors from both kingdoms, they held the ceremony in one of the courtyards at Loisette's castle. Even more exasperating to said advisors was the fact that the royal bride and groom wished to be wed while riding horses.

Clarkent, who was riding Esroh Repus, wore a red cape and a blue tunic, and his chest bore in gold the future symbol of the united kingdom of Solaria. On the front of his tunic was a rearing Pegasus facing a similarly upright dragon, combining both the palette and symbols of both kingdoms. The pegasus was known for its flight and speed, whereas dragons were known for their strength and endurance. Both Clarkent and Loisette had felt it a solid union of meanings for the Solarian royal symbol, and it was a way to revert back to what the united kingdom's symbol had once been. Peri he told them that a pair of twin brothers had once ruled Solaria, which was why there were two symbols. When Solaria split, each kingdom had simply taken one of the brothers' symbols as a crest.

Loisette was also in the united royal colors, with a blue cape and a red and gold dress. At her neck was the pegasus necklace, but she hadn't forgotten Kryptonia's royal symbol--her wedding ring had a tiny dragon engraved on it.

As the Metropolitan queen approached on High Flyer, Clarkent merely stared. Even when she was beside him and when Peri, who was administering the service, began talking--asking if anyone knew why the two should not be married--Clarkent couldn't do anything but watch her. She was beautiful, radiant, happy ... And she was marrying him.

Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that he could truly and honestly and without any regrets be marrying Loisette. He wouldn't have been able to live with himself if he had brought her any disgrace by marrying her. He hadn't known that he was a prince of the *Barbarian Kingdom*.

He finally began paying attention to Peri, who was talking specifically to him: "Kallel, do you take this woman to be your wedded wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her in sickness and in health, as a husband should his wife, forsaking all others, keeping yourself only unto her ... for as long as you both shall live?"

Clarkent gave her a wide smile. "I will," he promised.

Then Peri turned to Loisette and asked her if she would take Clarkent as her husband. Her lips pulled upward as she gazed at Clarkent. "I will," she answered.

Clarkent grinned. He was so happy. He hadn't realized he could experience such joy. The love of his life was becoming his wife, and his parents would be taken care of for the rest of their lives. He couldn't ask for anything more.

He was lost in Loisette's eyes when a slight nudge from Peri caused him to look up and flush. He'd apparently missed his cue. But he knew what he was supposed to say next.

"I, Kallel," he began, using his Kryptonian name since he was being married as a Kryptonian king, "take you, Loisette, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for

better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish ... until death shall us part. This I pledge to you."

And then it was Loisette's turn, and she had a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I, Loisette," she said, "take you, Kallel, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish--until death or *adventure* shall us part." Her smile widened, and it was all he could to keep from laughing at her for being so pleased with herself. "This I pledge to you," she finished.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur for Clarkent. He was too far gone in love to think about anything but Loisette.

***

At the wedding feast, Peri and Aliss gazed with no small amount of pleasure at the happy couple. The young queen and king were radiating their joy so intensely that it was somewhat infectious. There was not a dour face to be seen in the crowd. Everyone was glad to see the two kingdoms uniting, for it meant the on-again and off-again war between the two Metropolita and Kryptonia was truly over at last. The two monarchs had a lot of work ahead of them--one of the easier steps of their unity was having a castle made on the border between the two kingdoms, but there were more difficult steps to attend to such as drawing up plans for a government that advisors from both kingdoms would accept—but they also had a lifetime of bliss to look forward to. The hardest part of their lives was over.

"Now that our charges have a happy ending," Aliss finally said, "might we have one, too?" She was looking up at the wizard with a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"You sure know how to make a wizard's heart dance," he told her with a chuckle. "I suppose since the King's son and King Samuel's daughter are now working on their happily ever after, we can start as well." He put an arm around her, pressing her against him, and then he lovingly kissed the top of her head. "I'm just glad you're still interested in an old sorcerer like me."

She hit his chest lightly. "I'm no young lamb myself. But I'd say we both have a lot of life left in us yet."

"That we do, Aliss. That we do." Peri gazed across the room once more at the newly married couple. "But somehow, I don't think we've seen an end to the adventures of Loisette and 'Clarkent.'"

Aliss laughed. "I have the feeling you're right, Peri. If trouble doesn't find them, then the queen will find it. And we know that wherever the queen goes, the king will follow."

Peri shook his head with a smile. "I fear you're only too right about that."

***

Epilogue

***

"Now, watch your left side. Sometimes, you get a little overconfident and leave yourself vulnerable. Though these aren't real fights, people still get hurt, and I want you to be careful."

The fifteen-year-old Prince Gawain sighed. "I know, Dad. You've told me that a thousand times."

Clarkent grinned. His eldest son may have been pretending indifference, but Clarkent could tell Gawain was nervous just by the way the boy's eyes kept flickering to the list field.

Gawain had always looked up to both of his parents, but he was especially close to his father, whose stories of his days as the Black Knight were always enough to make Gawain listen intently and with admiration. And now, Gawain was about to participate in his first sword-fighting tournament.

"I have something for you," Clarkent said, reaching down to his side and removing the sword and sheath from there. "This sword used to belong to belong to King Joreth, your grandfather. It's the blade I carried as the Black Knight. I want you to have it now. There's no need for you to carry that rusty old thing around any longer."

With fumbling hands, Gawain removed his old sword and exchanged it with the one his father was giving him. "Th-thanks, Dad," he managed, obviously touched by the gift.

"I'm glad to do it," Clarkent returned. Then, smiling to himself, he reached up a hand and lowered his son's visor. "All right. Do me proud, son."

"I promise not to run away, Dad," Gawain teased, referring to his father's first jousting tournament.

Clarkent thumped his son's armor-covered chest. "You'd better not. Good luck."

And then he moved away back to the spectator area where the rest of his family was waiting. The tournament was about to start, and as king, he was supposed to be the one that cued its beginning.

***

Loisette watched her son nervously as he carefully sidestepped a swipe from his opponent. He was using the sword his father had just given him, and they looked so well-suited--the old sword and the young knight.

She stared at her son in admiration. Her son's form was a bit obscured by his jousting armor, but--with his broadening shoulders and his love of horses--he reminded her very much of the stableboy who had stolen her heart. A part of her suspected that one day a new and mysterious knight would be spotted traipsing the countryside ... and on that day, she would be certain to check the Riding Stable and see if Gawain's favorite horse, Spirit Chaser, was missing. The black destrier was one of Phantom's descendants, and Loisette had a feeling he would make just as good a horse as Phantom had for Clarkent. While Clarkent had (mostly) retired the Black Knight to concentrate on his royal duties, there were always criminals to be caught.

The crowd cheered as Gawain felled his opponent, and he pulled his visor up and grinned at his parents.

Loisette smiled back. "He won!" she cheered.

"I knew he would," Clarkent said proudly, pulling the Solarian queen into a kiss.

***

At the end of the tournament, as people were dispersing, Clarkent couldn't resist giving Loisette another victory kiss.

"That's gross," came a male voice. "Don't you two ever stop?"

Clarkent broke away and looked at Gawain, who had come up to talk to them. "I can't help it if I love my wife," the king stated. But there was a slight flush of embarrassment to his cheeks.

"Well, you can at least spare the rest of the world," muttered the boy, though there was no real malice in his voice.

"Oh, why don't you go play with Spirit Chaser?" Clarkent said, reaching out to drop his son's visor.

"Would you stop doing that?" Gawain said in annoyance, pushing away his father's hand and lifting the visor up. "I'm not a little kid, Dad."

"I know, I know--you're a knight in training," Clarkent teased. He liked to give his son a little grief on occasion, but the prince had too much of his mother in him not to give as good as he got.

"Be nice to your son, Clarkent," Loisette admonished.

"Yeah, you'd better listen to Mom," the ten-year-old Jerome spoke up. "She tames dragons, and she can tame you, too!"

Clarkent put up two hands like claws and swooped down on his son with them. "I don't think so!" he mock-growled, chasing after the boy.

"Daddy!" squeaked Lois, their youngest, as she went after him. "Don't hurt him!"

Loisette rolled her eyes and turned to her children. Someone was missing. She frowned.

"Where did Laural go?" she asked as Clarkent came back with Lois on his shoulders and Jerome trailing him.

Ellena, the second eldest of Loisette and Clarkent's children, answered with a note of exasperation in her tone. "I bet she dressed up like a boy again and snuck off to the stable." Ellena really resembled the painting of the grandmother she had been named after, and sometimes Loisette wondered if this was what her mother had been like as a girl.

Smiling at her daughter, Loisette told her, "She probably just wants to play with Billy's son." Princess Laural was twelve, and she was beginning to become a bit rebellious. Dwayne was still Stable Master of the Riding Stable, but Billy had taken control of the other stable, and his son helped him with it. Because the other stable mostly housed working horses rather than riding horses, it was sometimes difficult for Laural to come up with a good excuse to go ... hence the need for a disguise.

Peri had approached to the queen and king a few weeks ago and mentioned the possibility of training Laural as a sorceress. They had both been flabbergasted, not having realized their child had any potential of that sort, but he had pointed out several strange instances where Laural had done things that she shouldn't have been able to. Loisette and Clarkent were still discussing the issue--a princess being a magic-user *was* something to give a person pause, after all--but Loisette had the feeling they would be agreeing to it soon.

"You should have never told them those stories about you sneaking out," Clarkent suddenly murmured into his wife's ear.

She rewarded his comment with a gentle elbow to the gut. Then she turned around and put her hands on her hips, giving her husband a venomless glare. "If she wants to play with her friend without being the source of gossip, who am I to stop her?"

The king just grinned at his wife. "I guess you can't blame her for wanting to be like her mother. Her mother *is* a brilliant woman, after all."

"And don't you forget it," she told him, hiding her own smile under a facade of sternness.

Clarkent pulled her to him and kissed her.

"I thought I told you two to stop that," grumbled Gawain.

The king and queen slowly broke apart.

"Maybe one day you'll understand when you're in love," Clarkent told him.

"Whatever," Gawain muttered.

Loisette touched the pegasus necklace at her neck. She had the feeling that day would be coming soon for Gawain. His touchiness about his parents' open displays of affection only seemed to indicate to his mother that he was already interested in a young lady. She had the feeling he was fighting against his own feelings ... and failing.

She smiled to herself. Her son really *was* becoming a man.

***

Back at the castle, the royal children scattered. Loisette and Clarkent met with some of their advisors and then sat down to have a rare moment of blessed peace.

The serenity was soon broken by a child's cry: "Look at this!"

Loisette and Clarkent stood and turned to see Ellena and Lois running toward them.

"Herbie made me a time-teller!" Ellena exclaimed, holding the device up in the air. The castle librarian had succeeded in making his personal time-teller years before, but he had sworn never to make another one. Obviously, he had been willing to break that vow for the second eldest of Loisette and Clarkent's children. Ellena was, after all, his favorite, and she loved listening to his stories and marveling at his inventions. Little Lois often tagged along with her, much to Ellena's annoyance.

"That's impressive," Clarkent told her, looking down at the device.

"I'm going to show it to James when he comes back from his visit with his parents," Ellena proclaimed. Aliss had given both Ellena and Laural the ability to talk to animals, and James was a favorite companion of Ellena. Periodically, the Peregrine Falcon would go--with Aliss and Peri as translators--and visit his parents, and he seemed truly happy with his life.

About half a year before, Loisette had told Clarkent that she wondered if James and Ellena would fall in love and break the falcon's spell, but he had laughed it off. Now, however, he wasn't so sure. True love had been able to break the spell on Loisette's clothing--could it also break a transformation spell? And if it did, would James appear as an old man? Clarkent had expressed his concerns to Peri, but the magician had just smiled and told him that if the spell was broken in such a fashion, love would take true love's form. Clarkent had guessed that meant James would not only become human but also assume Ellena's age--provided love *did* spring up between the two. When Loisette translated James's conversation for Clarkent, the falcon had certainly seemed to act young despite his years, so his assuming a youthful form (again, if it *did* happen) wouldn't be as strange as the fact that he was no longer a falcon. And as for the suitability of the match, well, James's parents were Nobles, so there wasn't anything to protest on that front. But Clarkent did think it weird that he could possibly have a falcon for a son-in-law.

"I want a time-teller," pouted little Lois, her eyes filling with tears. "Make her give it to me!" Her face was turning red, and it was obvious she was on the verge of a temper tantrum.

Clarkent walked over and knelt on the ground, looking up at her. "Lois, Herbie gave that time-teller to Ellena, not you."

"But I want one," she sniffled.

"I know, Princess, and I'm sorry. But when someone gives a gift, it belongs to that person alone. You know that, don't you, honey?"

Lois stared at her shoes. There was a small gray mouse nibbling at her right shoe, and she picked it up and looked at her father. The mouse was one of Robert Bigmouth's many descendants, and he often managed to find Lois when she was sad.

"And besides," her father continued gently, smiling at the mouse in her hands, "your grandparents give you gifts all the time. You wouldn't like it if Grandmother gave you a special gift, and then I made you give it to Ellena."

The little girl shook her head.

He hugged her, being careful not to disturb the mouse. It was sometimes difficult for Lois, as she was quite a bit younger than the rest of her siblings, but her grandparents made sure to spoil her to make up for it. Sometimes, however, she did need a little special attention. And since she was Daddy's little girl, he always made sure to give it. He only worried that one day she would get the idea to go on adventures like her mother had--heaven help him if that day came. She was just as strong-willed as her mother, and he didn't think he would be able to stop it.

***

Loisette watched with a smile as her husband interacted with their youngest child. She wished her own father had exhibited just some of the understanding that Clarkent seemed to have naturally. If her father had paid just a bit more attention to her and a bit less attention to the ghost of her mother, it would have made her feel so much better. Clarkent was such a good father. Her children were so fortunate to have him.

"Would you stop following me?" complained Gawain as he came up to his parents with Jerome tagging along behind him. "Mom, Dad, can you make him leave me alone?"

Before either Loisette or Clarkent could reply, a soft voice said, "Your Majesties," and everyone turned to see the approach of one of the castle's servants, Kline. He was wearing the same strange bow he always had pinned at the top of his tunic--Loisette had always meant to ask him why he wore it, but she had never gotten around to it. "There is someone requesting to see you," Kline informed them. "She says she once knew a friend of yours."

Clarkent nodded at the servant. "Please send her in."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Kline acknowledged before turning around and going back the way he had come. He was absentminded sometimes, and he had forgotten to bow. But he was a good man, and neither Loisette nor Clarkent minded when he forgot about formalities or left his post to look over some of Herbie's inventions.

"Gawain, will you please go ride horses with me?" Jerome pleaded. He really admired his older brother ... much to Gawain's annoyance.

"Go ride horses by yourself," the eldest prince said with narrowed eyes.

"Gawain," Loisette said warningly.

"Oh, all right," Gawain conceded, glowering at his mother.

"Can I come, too?" Ellena asked, turning her own doe eyes on Gawain.

"Me, too!" insisted little Lois. Though it made her parents a little nervous, she really liked riding High Flyer and Esroh Repus because they had once been ridden by her parents. They weren't as young as they used to be--neither was Ellena's favorite, Agides, for that matter--but they were still going strong.

"Why not?" said Gawain with a dramatic sigh. Mumbling something about babysitting not being part of a prince's job description, he ushered his three siblings out of the room.

"We really need to work on his attitude," Clarkent muttered as he watched them go.

"He's just cranky because he hasn't seen that Nobleman's daughter in a while," Loisette told him. "We should host a party soon. That will make him cheer up."

***

When Kline entered, a young woman was with him. She had auburn hair and blue eyes, and she reminded Loisette of someone, though she wasn't able to ascertain who.

The young woman curtseyed, and Kline introduced her: "This is Kitty, Your Majesties."

"Hello, Kitty," Loisette greeted. "Kline says you knew a friend of ours."

The young lady smiled at her and gave a short bob of her head. "My mother used to be your lady-in-waiting, Your Majesty."

Loisette gasped. For a few seconds, her composure was utterly gone. Finally, she managed, "Are you ... Catherine's daughter?"

"I am," confirmed Kitty. "My mother spoke very highly of you, Your Majesty."

Loisette glanced around hopefully. "She isn't here, is she?"

Kitty looked down, her expression sorrowful. "No, Your Majesty. She passed a few weeks ago."

Loisette was strickened, and Clarkent put a comforting arm around her.

"I'm so sorry," Loisette whispered.

"Mother wanted to come see you, Your Majesty," Kitty told her. "But a few months after my youngest brother was born, she became very sick. She survived the illness, but it left her weakened, and she was never strong enough to make the journey here. After she died, I told Father I wanted to come see you, and he agreed to come with me. He has family in the region."

"Father?" Loisette asked, barely able to speak.

Kitty gave her a gentle smile. "I am under no delusions about the circumstances of my birth, Your Majesty. But when I was two, my mother married a widower named 'Daniel' who had a daughter, and he has been every bit the father to me. He loved my mother very much."

"I'm glad to hear that," Loisette told her sincerely. "I had wondered all this time where Catherine was, how she was doing ... I would have gone to her if only I had known where she was."

"Don't worry, Your Majesty," Kitty said. "She did not wish to distract you from your commitments here. You have done a wonderful job of uniting the kingdoms ... and in fighting for equality. Father has told me stories of how terrible the Assigning was, and I am so glad I was able to stay with him and Mother--I'm not sure Mother would have lived as long as she did if I hadn't been able to stay at home and help her."

"I'm glad she had you by her side," Loisette told her, tears glimmering in her eyes. The Assigning had been so cruel to families--at least she and Clarkent had been able to stop it from hurting more families. The transition from the Assigning to paid voluntary servitude hadn't been an easy one, but they had managed, and things were going a lot smoother now than they had initially.

"Our entire family is grateful to you," Kitty said softly. "Father tells me the guards patrolling the united kingdom were once not so many in number as they are now--that it was once not as safe to venture outside. The people of Solaria owe you a great debt."

"We have only been trying to help," Clarkent told her, squeezing Loisette gently with his arm.

"Your mother was a great friend to me," Loisette said. "I'll never forget that."

"I'm glad, Your Majesty," Kitty replied with a smile.

"What are you going to do now?" Loisette asked her.

"In taking care of my mother, I learned a lot about medicine, Your Majesty," Kitty noted, looking suddenly shy and almost unsure. "I would like to become an apothecary, but ..."

"An apothecary?" Clarkent said, sounding surprised. "You've really learned that much?"

Kitty nodded. "I looked at a lot of books and talked to a lot of people. Now that things are better than they used to be, everyone has the chance to follow the path they want rather than the path that has been decided for them."

Loisette smiled. "Well, I think we're going to need a new apothecary at court soon," she told Kitty. "Perhaps, if you are interested, you could fill the position?" Loisette was no fool--she knew that apothecaries were traditionally men. But she and Clarkent had been fighting bit by bit against some of the restrictions placed on women, and this would be another good step in the right direction. And if the court hired a female apothecary, perhaps others would see the example and follow it.

"I would like that, Your Majesty," Kitty said, her eyes on the ground and her cheeks a little red.

Loisette broke away from her husband and enveloped the young woman in a hug. "Thank you for coming to see me. Whenever you're ready for that position, please return. I'll be holding it open for you."

"Th-thank you, Your Majesty," Kitty stuttered. "Goodbye, Your Majesties." She curtseyed and then left the room.

Clarkent leaned down to gently kiss his wife. "You are the kindest woman I know."

"I'm so glad to hear Catherine found happiness," Loisette whispered, leaning forward into her husband's chest.

He wrapped his arms around her. "I am, too."

She looked up at him with a smile. "I love you, you know."

"I know," he murmured, lightly brushing his lips against her own.

She smiled against his mouth. "This is the part where you say you love me, too."

He kissed her. "I adore you." Another kiss. "I worship you." Another one. "I idolize you."

She laughed as he nuzzled her neck, and she tried to squirm away. "Those aren't the words I'm looking for."

He pinned her against him and lifted his mouth to her ear. "I love you so much, dear queen," he whispered. "And I always will. I love you more every day--every time I see one of our children or hear your voice, I fall in love with you over again."

"And I love you, my dear king," she told him. And then she brought his head down and kissed him.

***

Glossary

Chapter 1

Lady-in-waiting: A lady-in-waiting was a woman (and occasionally a girl) who served as personal assistant to a queen, princess, or other noblewoman of higher rank. She did not do servant duties per se since she was a noblewoman herself, but she would do tasks such as brushing hair, playing instruments, singing, and needlework.

Animal Familiar: An animal familiar is an animal who serves a magic-user as a companion and/or servant, and they are often portrayed as spirits. A commonly seen animal familiar for a witch is a black cat.

Tack: Tack is a horse's equipment. To "tack up" is to equip a horse.

Caparison: This is the ornamental part of a horse's tack, as seen in medieval movies (think about the colorful cloths over knights' horses).

Palfrey: Horses were not identified by their breeds/colors in medieval times as they are today--"palfrey" was a term that could be applied to nearly any breed of horse. A palfrey was a horse with a smooth and ambling gait which was comfortable for riders. As a result, palfreys were popular with nobles, women, and highly ranked knights. They were used for general riding, war, and travel.

Curry Comb: These have short teeth on one side, and they help loosen dirt and hair on the horse. They also encourage a horse's skin to produce its natural oils.

Chapter 2

Buckskin Dun: To be simplistic, this kind of horse is generally golden in color; has dark legs and a dark face; has a dark mane and tail which are "frosted" with a lighter color; and has a dark dorsal stripe. Buckskins and duns can be hard to tell apart, and some people argue over whether Spirit in the *Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron* movie is a buckskin or dun (though Wikipedia says "buckskin").

Palomino: This kind of horse has a golden coat and a light-colored mane and tail.

Lead Rope: Lead ropes are used to lead horses around, not their reins, and they are attached to halters. I am conflating halters and bridles for this story.

Salt Lick: A salt lick is a block of mineral salts which animals like horses and cattle lick to get important nutrients in their diet.

Chapter 3

Courser: This kind of horse was the most common type of horse used in warfare. They were the fastest kind of horse--small, light, strong, steady, and long-winded. They were valuable and expensive, though they weren't the most pricey horse. They were frequently used by knights and cavalrymen.

Gareth and Gawain: Though Gareth and Gawain (and the others mentioned) are characters in Arthurian literature, the story I have included about them was entirely made up by myself. In Arthurian stories, Gareth *is* killed (as is Gaheris), and Gawain *does* become really angry, but Gareth's death is brought about by Lancelot, who was sincerely apologetic about it afterward (not having meant to kill him).

Chimera: A chimera is a monster made up the parts of different animals, usually a snake, goat, and lion.

Chapter 4

Horse Gaits: Horses have four types of gaits. In order of speed, they are the walk, the trot, the canter, and the gallop. The trot is a stable two-beat gait, but it is not necessarily the most comfortable for beginning riders.

Jess: Jesses are thin straps of leather attached to falcons' legs. A jess can be held on to by the falconer to prevent the bird from chasing something it shouldn't.

Falcon Hood: Hoods are placed on falcons' heads to help keep them calm.

Chapter 5

Simnel Cake: In medieval times, this was a cake of hard pastry filled with different kinds of dried fruit (like raisins and figs).

Bryndons: These were small cakes served in a sauce of wine, nuts, and fruit.

Villanelle: A rustic song from Italy ... or a 19-line poem with a specific rhyme scene and refrain, the most famous being "Do not Go Gentle into that Good Night." Here, the two meanings are sort of conflated.

Chapter 8

Rouncey: In medieval days, this kind of horse was meant for general use and could be trained for various purposes. It was utilized by poorer knights. It was never used to pull carts, though it occasionally served as a pack horse.

Farrier: Farriers put shoes on horses. They aren't necessarily skilled in all the ironwork done by blacksmiths, though they may do blacksmithing to craft horseshoes.

Chapter 11

Grip: The grip of a sword is part of the hilt. It is the part a person grasps when holding the sword. It was usually made of wood or metal.

Pommel: The pommel of a sword is also part of the hilt. It is the part at the very end of the hilt and is often circular. It acts as a counterweight.

Cross-guard: The cross-guard is yet another part of the hilt. It is the long bit above the grip but below the blade. It helps protect the user's hand from his/her own blade and the opponent's blade.

Chapter 16

Peregrine Falcon Speed: These truly are the fastest living creatures on the planet. When diving, they can reach speeds over 200 miles per hour (about three times the speed of a cheetah)--one Peregrine Falcon was clocked at 242 mph. Their horizontal flight speed, of course, isn't as great (probably around 55 mph).

Destrier: These horses were fast, agile, tall, strong, and highly trained. They were treasured by knights and made really good war horses, but they were rare and expensive.

Mail: This is a flexible armor made of interlinked rings that was worn beneath plate armor to protect vulnerable places.

Chapter 17

Dragon Lairs: Dragons (particularly in European stories) are often portrayed as having a lair filled with treasure which is jealously guarded by them, as can be seen in *Beowulf* and *The Hobbit*. The song "Puff the Magic Dragon" seems to draw from this in a lesser fashion, with Puff being interested in "strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff." Trout Fishing in America's song "Lullaby" has a verse which pulls from this as well: "Dragons in the sky / Flying with their golden treasure. / And if you catch their eye, / A wish is granted more than you can measure."

Chapter 19

Dam: A dam is a female parent (usually utilized in regard to four-footed livestock).

Ogres: Ogres are typically portrayed as big, ugly, and cruel, and they are not usually associated with hoarding (as far as I know, that's something I've made up).

Tilt: "Tilt" is another word for "joust," in which two knights attempt to knock each other off their horses with lances. Jousting tournaments were popular among the upper classes.

Chapter 22

Avalon Lake: I'm using only the Arthurian association here rather than the full traditional meaning of "Avalon." Avalon is not actually a lake but an island where Excalibur was forged and where Arthur is taken to recover from his major battle with Mordred (in versions where Arthur does not die).

Lady of the Lake: The Lady of the Lake is figure in Arthurian legend whose role varies depending on the author. She is often portrayed as giving Arthur the sword Excalibur and occasionally as enchanting the enamored Merlin.

Chapter 24

Garm: In Norse mythology, Garm is a monstrous dog associated with Ragnarok. Ragnarok is an event wherein the gods are destroyed and there is a final battle with evil which leads to a new order.

List Field: The list field is the roped-off area where the joust would take place. It is also called the "lists."

Horse Armor Spikes: Occasionally, horses would have spikes on the part of their armor protecting their heads. These seemed to be primarily for a decorative purpose by making the horse look like a unicorn.

Tasset: Plate armor has two pieces of metal that protect the thighs; these pieces are called "tassets."

Chapter 36

Merlin: In addition to being the name of a famous wizard, "Merlin" is the name of a type of falcon sometimes referred to as a "pigeon hawk."

The following story –

“Jerome’s Wedding”

by – Lynn S. M.

was Nominated in the:

Best Original Character

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Jerome's Wedding

By Lynn S. M. <lois_and_clark_fan_at_verizon.net> (Replace

_at_with the appropriate symbol)

Rated: G

Submitted: February 2013

Summary: Lois and Clark are married and have two sons, Jerome and Todd, the latter of whom is severely affected by autism. This story recounts Jerome's wedding as seen through Todd's eyes. This is the fourth story in the author's next-gen series. The first three stories, in chronological plot order, are "The Diagnosis," "The Not-So-Great-Escape," and "Echolalia."

Author's Note: This is the fourth -- and, I am guessing, the final -- story in my next-gen series. The first three stories, in chronological plot order, are "The Diagnosis," "The Not-So-Great-Escape," and "Echolalia." You don't need to have read those stories to understand this one, but it would help. Lois and Clark are married and have two sons, Jerome and Todd, the latter of whom is severely affected by autism. This story recounts Jerome's wedding as seen through Todd's eyes.

I wish to say at the outset that writing this story was a challenge to me, and the writing style won't be easy to read. I based Todd's 'voice' on the self-descriptions I have read of people with autism who are capable of describing their own thought processes, as well as on what is known regarding which parts of speech are harder to master. For example, I did not use any pronouns or question words, and I used as few function words as I could get away with while retaining coherence. Finally, I made everything as concrete and visual as possible, since Temple Grandin has stated that she thinks in pictures rather than in words, and that she has to translate into English whenever she speaks or writes. Her informal research has indicated that many other people on the spectrum are also visual thinkers.

I hope no one takes offense at the story. I was not trying to make fun of Todd or of others with cognitive disabilities; rather, this story is my best effort at depicting how I imagine Todd (and, for that matter, my own son) might think.

Disclaimer: Neither Lois nor Clark belong to me; they are the property of DC Comics and Warner Brothers. Jerome, Todd, and Jenny are my characters; please ask permission if you wish to use them in a story. This story is not for profit; the only thing I hope to gain by writing and posting it is some feedback. (Hint, hint. ;) )

My thanks to my friends and beta readers Margot (who is not even an L&C fan) and Female Hawk, for going above and beyond the call of duty in order to provide constructive feedback for this unusual piece. Their suggestions have helped make the story more intelligible despite the unusual voice used in it, and have helped to make Todd's thoughts and actions more realistic. My thanks, too, to my intrepid General Editor, Iolanthe, for tackling a story that breaks all the rules.

***

Silly day.

Todd, Jerome, Dad wear silly clothes. Jerome say, 'Monkey suit.' Jerome silly. Clothes not monkey suit. Monkeys small; clothes big. Clothes have no tail hole. Clothes have vests. Vests have five pretty buttons. Shiny. Clothes have silly belts -- big, cloth belts.

Many people see Todd, Jerome, Dad, pastor. Music start. People turn. Music loud. Ear plugs good.

Todd see Jenny. Jenny wear silly clothes. Pretty dress. Shiny circles. Dress too long; dress back touch floor, drag. White cloth hide Jenny face. Jenny play peekaboo?

Jenny walk silly. Step. Stop. Step. Stop. Step. Stop.

Jenny have pretty flowers. Big flowers.

Pastor talk, talk, talk. Jerome, Jenny talk. Pastor talk, talk, talk. Todd see Mom. Mom sit. Mom cry. Mom sad? Todd go-to Mom. Todd hug Mom. Mom say Mom OK. Say Todd go-to Jerome, stand. Todd go-to Jerome. Todd stand. Pastor talk, talk, talk.

Jerome want ring. Todd give Jerome ring. Jerome give Jenny ring. Jerome not want ring now? Jerome, Jenny kiss.

More music. Jerome, Jenny, Dad, Todd, Mom, people leave room.

Dad say, "Todd, Jenny bah bah bah bah new sister. Jenny bah bah family."

Mom smile, cry. Mom happy? Mom sad?

Jerome, Jenny hug. Todd hug Jerome, Jenny.

Dad, Jerome, Jenny, people smile.

Silly day. Good day.

THE END

The following story –

“Kiss”

by – Classicalla

was Nominated in the:

Best First Kiss

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Kiss

Rated G

By Classicalla

Here's my offering for April mirth. I hope you like it.

I don't own any of the characters and I'm not making any money off this story. Any similarities to real life are merely coincidental.

Clark was a traveling man. Oh, he'd had opportunities to stick around various places, and there was that one lady in New York that he knew would be distraught when he left, but Clark needed to get back to Metropolis. It had taken a while to get here, but he knew that was where he belonged. Make no bones about it, he was back in Metropolis. Things had been pretty fuzzy for him at times and he knew something odd had happened, but he wasn't quite sure what that was. He did know he was smarter than the average guy living on the street, and he wasn't above begging for a good meal or a warm bed.

He jumped off the train and headed into town. There was no time to lose. He headed straight for the Daily Planet. Somehow, he knew he'd find what he was looking for there. At first, he starting hanging out near the front doors, but it was obvious folks didn't want someone like him around. So he went to one of the side doors and hoped she would show up there. And this door was right beside a pizza joint, and pizza was his favorite food. Ah, this was the life.

After a couple of days, she did indeed show up. He was overjoyed but decided to be quiet and hoped she noticed. After all, he wasn't sure she loved him as much as he loved her.

Lois' eyes widened when she saw him. "Boy, aren't you a site for sore eyes. You're about the scruffiest thing I've seen." She motioned to him to come to her. Then she laughed, "Come with me!"

He followed her and sat right down in the front seat. Ah, yes, he was finally home. This was the woman he loved, and he hoped her love for him had grown in his absence.

Lois had missed Clark badly when he had suddenly disappeared. He'd only been her partner for about a month, but, oh, what a month. She had started falling for him and absence had indeed made her heart grow fonder. She had to admit that she loved him. She sighed heavily. She hoped he was still alive, but after two years... She looked over to the guy sitting in her passenger seat and said, "I hope you don't mind if I call you Clark. I had a friend named Clark that I miss a lot."

Clark just grunted and looked at her like she'd grown a third eye. That was his name. What was wrong with the woman. When she looked at him expectantly, Clark just nodded. Why didn't she recognize him?

"Good!" Clark it is. Then she muttered, "I guess I have to admit that I love him." She was sad for a moment then said, "Clark, the first thing we have to do is take you in for a shampoo and haircut. Then I'll take you home and we'll have dinner." She patted his shoulder. "Would you like that?"

Clark was so excited, he thought he burst. He laid his head on her shoulder.

"Now just you wait a minute, Buster. That hair is filthy. You'll get lots of attention when you look a little better."

Women! They were always worried about how someone smelled and how they looked. Clark was agitated and just turned and looked out the window.

Lois parked the car in front of a salon. She led him to the lady at the desk. "See what you can do with him. I'll be back to get him later."

When Lois returned, Clark was thrilled to see her. What an ordeal he'd just been through. When they got to Lois' apartment, he explored everything. It had been so long since he'd been here. Then he lay down on the couch to take a nap.

A bit later, Lois woke him up. "I forgot to stop at the market, and I bet you're hungry, aren't you? Well, pizza it is." She sat down on the sofa beside of him and ordered pizza.

Clark was enthusiastic about both the pizza and Lois sitting beside of him. He wondered if Lois was up for a little kiss. He tried kissing her and Lois was not so happy about that.

"Now, you just wait a darn minute..." But when she looked into those big eyes of his, she relented. "Well, okay, just one. She grabbed his cheeks and gave him a quick peck right on the mouth." That was when she screamed. She immediately thought of kissing a frog and getting a handsome prince. Only she'd kissed a dog.

Clark jumped off the couch and turned in circles. "Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! What happened? What happened?" Then Clark realized that he didn't have a stitch of clothing on and grabbed a towel from Lois' basket of laundry. He sat back down on the couch and it all came back to him.

Lois quickly got up and ran to her bedroom. She came out and handed him a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. "You, you... left them here, and I didn't have the heart to throw them away." She turned her back while Clark dressed.

Clark sat back down, and started relating the story of what happened. "Lex! Lex did this. He used black magic and turned me into a dog." He got up and started pacing. There were always some things I remembered though and I always knew I was way smarter than the other dogs." Then he stopped. "My parents! Oh, my god. I have to call them."

Lois motioned Clark to sit back down. "They are actually on their way here to visit with me. So there will be time. And though I've realized Lex is a snake, he's supposed to stop by this evening. I guess he wants to try to woo me some more." She looked determined. "We will confront him."

"So you believe me," Clark said contentedly.

"Well, if I hadn't seen you suddenly transform from a dog into Clark, I wouldn't have." She smiled and cocked her head in that way so familiar to Clark. "But wonder why he left a way out? A way for you to return to human? That's not like Lex."

"Hmmm.... I remember," replied Clark. I remember it all. The guy that did this said there had to be a way to change things because that was the way magic worked. Then Lex suggested that I had to be kissed by my true love and that no one would ever kiss the ugly dog that I was going to be turned into." He bit his lip. "I was a pretty haply looking thing, wasn't I?" He didn't wait for an answer. "The guy told me was really sorry, but that Lex had threatened his family and he had no choice." Then he brightened and had a wicked twinkle in his eye. "He also whispered to me that should I ever change back that if my true love then kissed Lex with my essence still on her lips that Lex would then turn into the dog."

Someone knocked on the door. Lois called, "Who is it?"

It was Lex. Lex Luthor - one of most evil men alive.

Lois quickly grabbed Clark and kissed him then answered the door. "Oh, Lex. I'm so glad you are here." She grabbed him and kissed him. Just as she did, Clark appeared behind them and waved to Lex.

Lex screamed, "Noooo....."

Lois grabbed the now dog Lex. "Come on Clark. Let's take him to the shelter. It's a no kill shelter, and they guarantee adoption, but they do neuter them all first."

Clark couldn't help but laugh. And then they both laughed. It seemed a pretty fitting consequences for Lex Luthor.

~Fin~

The following story –

“Lois and Casstle”

by – Tank Wilson

was Nominated in the:

Best Short Story

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Lois and Castle

By Tank Wilson <tankw1@aol.com>

Rated: PG

Submitted: June 2013

Summary: A crossover story where Lois Lane steps in to give Castle and Beckett a helping hand.

***

Late 2010

New York City homicide detective Kate Beckett leaned back in her chair and studied her 'murder board'. The large, white, porcelain marker board displayed several photographs with colored marker lines connecting them in a crisscross pattern that looked like a road map from hell. Each photograph was labeled with notes, questions, and answers pertaining to each individual and their relationships to each other.

The FBI had their fancy computers with all the touch screens and virtual displays, but there was something about doing it old school that seemed so much more satisfying to her.

Her latest case had been one of the most challenging yet. There had been so many twists and turns, blind leads, red-herrings, and just plain old confusion that it was just short of a miracle that she and her team had been able to solve the murder and prevent a second.

She shook her head slowly as her gaze drifted across the colorful scribbles on the nicked and scratched whiteboard. Against all odds, they'd busted the case and once again, Castle's contributions and assistance had proved essential to their being able to catch the killer and close the case.

Her Captain had just finished giving her a pat on the back for a job well done and was now talking to Castle. If she knew Captain Montgomery and Castle, it probably had nothing to do with the case and most likely about tickets to the Knicks game tomorrow night.

One would think that the life of a homicide detective, though never dull or mundane, would generally be more stable and routine. Every murder was different, but each was approached in the same way. There were procedures to follow and legwork that needed to be done that were essentially the same for every case.

Yet, when Castle had entered her world, even the routine seemed to take on a life of its own and she was consistently finding herself needing to re-evaluate her expectations. In her line of work results were what counted and she grudgingly had to admit that he helped her get results.

Richard Castle was a best selling crime novelist who'd first crossed her path almost two years ago when she had brought him in for questioning about a couple of murders that had mimicked murders from his books. He was friends with the mayor, as well as her captain, so he had little trouble getting permission to accompany her and her team on that case. He then convinced the powers that be that he should be allowed to 'shadow' her for a time. It was all in the name of research for his next book. The higher ups thought it would be good public relations. She thought it would be a pain in the neck.

Of course, that didn't really prepare her for what came next. As it turned out, he was looking to create a new character for his next book; a character that unfortunately was supposedly based on her.

The heroine of his novel was a sexed-up, super model with a badge who went by the name of Nicki Heat. It had caused her no little amount of grief and embarrassment when the first book "Heat Wave" hit the stands and became an immediate best seller. Kate sighed as she remembered those awkward days after the book came out. At least he got most of the police work part of it right.

The public reaction was such that those powers that be were more than receptive to the idea of a second book. Castle was back in the fold, and even though "Naked Heat" had been released a few months ago, it didn't seem that he would be leaving her team anytime soon. Apparently Nicki Heat was here to stay, and so was Richard Castle.

She glanced up when she heard the laughter coming from her captain's office. They were probably swapping dirty jokes now.

Her relationship with Castle was... complicated. Early on, his constant hovering and unsolicited input had been annoying, but over time he sort of 'grew' on her. There was no doubt that he was a good looking guy, and could be very charming when he wanted to be.

He seemed to know everybody who was anybody in the city of New York, and on more than one occasion his contacts had been very helpful on cases.

They'd had their ups and downs in the past. Every time it seemed like one of them was ready to make a move toward something a little more daring in their relationship the other would do something to put distance between them again. It was an age old problem and truthfully she didn't have any idea where she and Castle would end up, but she did know that he would always have her back, and she would always have his. They were friends.

She watched as Castle shook her captain's hand and left his office. He approached her desk, a big smile on his face. "Well, I hear you've got some vacation time coming up." He sat on the corner of her desk.

Kate frowned. "It wasn't my idea. Captain is forcing me to take some time off. It seems that HR pointed out that I've got eight weeks of vacation time built up and if I don't take some time off the union is going to file a grievance."

"Can they do that if it's your choice?"

Kate shook her head. "It's a union, what do you think?"

Castle laughed. "I see what you mean. So, any big plans?"

Beckett emitted a very unladylike snort. "Oh yeah, big plans. First I'm going to take a luxurious bath, then I'm going to paint my toenails. After all that, I think I'll fall asleep on my couch reading a book."

Castle perked up. "Oh, going to check out "Naked Heat"?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of actual literature."

Castle placed his hand over his heart. "You wound me." Kate laughed. "Tell you what," he continued. "It sounds like you don't really have any definite plans. Let me offer you an alternative."

Kate eyed the cocky novelist warily. "What, prey tell, has that dirty little mind of yours concocted?"

"Have you ever been to Metropolis?"

"The Big Apricot?"

Castle smiled at that city's sobriquet. "One in the same. My agent has me scheduled to do some book signings and press junkets there this weekend. Why don't you come with me? We could do some sight seeing." Castle cocked his brow. "Who knows, we might even get to meet Superman."

Beckett shook her head in amused denial. "I know you seem to know everyone who is anyone in New York, but I hope you aren't trying to tell me that you actually know Superman."

Castle shrugged. "Well, no I don't know Superman, but I do know someone who does know Superman. She knows him quite well, in fact."

Beckett couldn't hold back her laughter. "Of course she does. What is she, his secret girlfriend? Or perhaps they're just buddies who hang out and watch old videos at her place." Beckett's tone turned more accusatory. "And why is it that your 'friend' in Metropolis just happens to be a woman? Not another ex-wife?"

It was Castle's turn to laugh. "Hardly; perhaps you've even heard of her. She and her husband are pretty well known." He paused, knowing that it bugged her when he played at the dramatic.

"Enough with the games just tell me who this mystery woman is."

Castle smiled. "None other than... Lois Lane."

Beckett rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Now I know you're either lying or bragging. No way do you know Lois Lane."

"So you have heard of her?"

"Seriously? There are cases she was involved in that are now used at the academy to teach undercover and infiltration techniques." A smile found its way onto Beckett's face. "I've always wanted to meet her. She's kind of a hero of mine."

Castle frowned. "A hero?"

"A strong independent thinking woman who has excelled in a profession that was normally considered a man's world. What's not to admire."

Castle grinned at her. "Sounds like someone else I know."

Beckett snorted. "As tough as it still is now, it was much tougher back when she started." Kate spun her chair to face Castle. "So tell me, how would a crime novelist from New York meet Metropolis' top investigative journalist?"

"What, you don't think that my natural charm and good looks are enough to interest a woman like Lois Lane?"

Beckett patted Castle's arm with her hand. "You're talking about a woman who hangs out with Superman... and I've seen pictures of her husband."

Castle raised his brow. "Be that as it may, I met the ubiquitous Ms. Lane at a writer's conference where she was a guest speaker. She told the crowd of mystery writers of several of her adventures as a reporter for the Daily Planet."

Kate laughed. "I'll bet what that woman has gone through in her career could really inspire a book series by one of your cohorts."

Castle gave her a thoughtful look. "I thought about it... briefly, but I rejected the idea. Truthfully, her life would be too unbelievable for mainstream crime and mystery fiction. But, I found her to be a charming and interesting woman."

Beckett grinned. "And it didn't hurt that she was also attractive?"

Castle winked. "That too. Anyway, she said that if I was ever in Metropolis I should look her up." Castle stood up. "So, what do you say? You want to see Metropolis?"

Beckett pursed her lips as she got up from her chair. "What the heck. It's not like I have anything better to do."

"Great, I'll call you with the travel details in the morning." Castle turned and began to walk toward the lobby.

"Oh, and Castle." He stopped and turned. "I want my own room."

His smile was just a bit coy. "Of course."

***

Lois Lane eased her way into the Barnes and Noble. It was the largest bookstore in Metropolis and it needed all that square footage today. The crowd was large and animated as they stood in the long winding line, waiting patiently for a chance to garner an autograph and a few moments with one of their favorite authors.

Lois knew that Rick Castle was a popular writer, had been for several years, but she hadn't been prepared for the size of the crowd. With a small sigh she put her copy of "Naked Heat" back into her bag. She had hoped to get her book signed here at the 'official' signing just like any of his fans, but she knew that she'd be seeing him later and could get the autograph then.

She quickly suppressed her disappointment and shifted to the 'other' reason why she wanted to come to the signing. Ever since Rick had mentioned that he was bringing Detective Beckett along on the trip Lois had been excited at the prospect of meeting the NYPD homicide detective.

Lois was under no delusion that the hyperbolized pin-up policewoman that served as the lead in Castle's latest two novels bore any resemblance to a real life detective. She was curious to meet the woman whom Castle publicly credited as being his inspiration for the character Nicki Heat.

She'd initially expected to see Beckett sitting at the table next to Rick; maybe even adding her own autograph to a book jacket. But she wasn't there. Lois let her gaze sweep the store. She hoped that Beckett had come and hadn't opted to stay back at the hotel, or take in some sights on her own while Castle did his diligence for his publisher.

A slow smile spread onto Lois' lips as she caught sight of a striking young woman standing toward the back of the store conversing with a man who had to be the manager. If this woman was the one, then Castle hadn't been exaggerating when it came to his physical description of his lead character.

The woman was very attractive. She was taller than Lois and her simple outfit of a plain red blouse and tan slacks wasn't able to hide the fact that she had a great figure and a toned body. Of course, that figured, considered the kind of work the woman did.

Her hair was worn long and loose; over the shoulders down to her shoulder blades, and she had an air of competence that radiated from her in waves. Lois' smile grew wider. That woman had to be Kate Beckett.

Lois strode purposely over to where the woman and the man were conversing. As her approached was noticed the two turned toward her. She extended her hand.

"Hi, you must be Detective Kate Beckett. I've heard so much about you. I'm Lo..."

Recognition flashed onto Beckett's face. "Lois Lane!" Kate grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously. "Castle said he knew you, but I just chalked it up to his typical name dropping tactics. I'm such a big fan of yours."

A smile of confusion found its way onto Lois face. "You've heard of me?"

Beckett laughed. "Seriously, what independent woman trying to make her way in a male dominated profession hasn't heard of the crusading reporter Lois Lane? You are something of an idol to all of us."

Lois smiled as she shook her head. "I'm not sure that's a compliment. It makes me sound like some old maid icon."

Beckett cocked her head and gave Lois a once over. "One look at you and I doubt anyone would consider you an old maid, but you are an icon to working women everywhere."

"Well thanks for that." Lois glanced back over her shoulder. "It looks like Rick is going to be busy for a while." She grabbed Beckett by the hand. "There's a great coffee shop just around the corner. It's quiet, and they have the best chocolate brownies this side of Switzerland." Lois grinned. "I think we need to talk."

Kate returned the smile and indicated that Lois should lead the way.

It only took them a few minutes to get to the coffee shop and be comfortably seated at a booth near the back of the place. Both ordered coffee and a brownie and settled in. It was Beckett who broke the silence first.

"So, Ms. Lane, do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

Lois smiled at the eager young woman. Beckett couldn't have been much more than thirty, yet she was one of New York's finest detectives. "What is this, an interrogation?"

Beckett blushed. "No, Ms. Lane, I... I just would like to know what it's like to be someone like you. Someone who has done so many amazing things in her life."

Lois laughed softly and patted Beckett's hand. "First off, my name is Lois, and I wish you would use it because I plan to call you Kate. Also, it's my understanding that you are someone who has done quite a few amazing things herself."

Kate blushed again. "Fair enough, but please don't confuse Nicki Heat with me. Castle's imagination is mostly responsible for that character." She lowered her head and leaned closer to Lois. Her voice was pitched low and soft. "So... is it true that you named Superman?"

Lois smiled as the young detective fired questions at her with a fan girl's enthusiasm. It became clear that Beckett had followed the media coverage of many of her more high profile investigations. It was also obvious that Beckett was used to working with a partner because she seemed especially interested in how Lois and Clark worked with each other and how their partnership progressed over the years.

Lois chuckled as she put her hand on the young woman's arm to stop her barrage of questions. "Kate, take a breath. Save some of these for later; till after I've taken you and Rick back to our place for dinner." Lois sighed dreamily. "You haven't really eaten until you had some of Clark's cooking."

Beckett grinned. "So is your husband the cook in the house, or does he just cook for special occasions?"

Lois waved her hand about in a gesture of dismissal. "My skills in the kitchen are severely lacking. I only know how to make three things and two of them require a lot of chocolate."

Beckett laughed. "Well, I'm not a great cook, but I know my way around the kitchen. I just don't have the time, so I order in, or eat out, frequently. Castle always gives me grief about my empty refrigerator and the lack of any food in my pantry."

Lois nodded. "So, how long have you and Rick been together?"

Lois almost laughed at the panicked look on Beckett's face.

***

Kate swallowed as she hesitated answering Lois' question. In the short time they'd been talking she was really starting to like the beautiful reporter. Even in her early forties Lois Lane was stunning. Her short dark hair framed a face that still hadn't yet seen the onset of wrinkles that came with aging. She could easily pass for a contemporary of Kate's.

Her hesitation was based on the question. What exactly did she mean by 'together'? What had Castle told her? Kate knew that he exchanged friendly emails with Lois several times a month, and supposed that since he'd been partnering up with her, he'd probably increased the frequency just to brag about his own investigative exploits.

"What do you mean, 'together'?" She tried to keep her voice emotionless. "Castle has shadowed me for about two years now and I consider him a good friend... and my partner; but there is nothing romantic going on."

Lois' brow rose. "Really? That's not quite the way Rick explained it."

Beckett just shook her head, her hair falling in front of her face. She quickly tucked an errant strand behind her ear. "Sometimes Castle confuses his books with reality. I am fond of him and we do work well together, but I'm with someone. His name is Josh, and he's a cardiac surgeon. Our schedules don't let us have a lot of time together, but I really like him." Kate rolled her eyes and frowned. "I just wish Castle would stop calling him 'Doctor Motorcycle Boy'."

Lois laughed softly. "Funny, I don't remember Rick mentioning him in any of his emails."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Am I interrupting anything?"

Kate turned a watched as a gorgeous hunk of manhood approached their table. Except for a pair of stylish glasses, he was the poster boy for 'tall, dark, and handsome; and the glasses didn't get in the way in the least. Kate knew immediately who it was and suddenly she was very jealous of Lois.

A big smile spread across Lois' face as jumped up to greet the man. "Oh, Clark, I didn't expect you yet." She literally threw herself into his arms and soundly kissed him. Apparently Lois had no problems with public displays of affection. With a husband like Clark Kent, she didn't blame her.

Lois sat back down and Clark slid into the chair next to her. "I went over to the bookstore but the manager said the two of you had left. He'd overheard you mentioning this place so I came here."

"I'm glad you did." Lois gave him another quick kiss. "Clark, this is Detective Kate Beckett."

Clark smiled and reached out his hand to her. His smile was amazing and she was so lost in it that she almost forgot to shake his hand. "So this is the extraordinary KB; the inspiration for Nicki Heat."

Kate rolled her eyes again. "Castle might claim I'm the inspiration but the only resemblance I bear to Nicki Heat is gender."

Lois grinned. "We'll see."

Kate was confused by her comment but before she could ask Lois what she meant they were interrupted by a shout from across the room. Kate saw that Castle had entered the little coffee shop.

Clark waved him over. "I told Rick where I was going and told him to join us when he finished up."

Lois jumped up and ran over to give Castle a hug. Kate had to admit that when beautiful woman threw themselves into Castle's arms she often felt a slight twinge of jealousy, but knowing who Lois worked with every day, and went home to every night. There was none of those feelings here.

She was a bit surprised by how familiar Lois was with Castle though; considering they'd only met in person a few times and carried on an occasional email friendship. Maybe Lois was just one of those types of people who made friends easily. Kate couldn't help thinking that it might be nice to get to know Clark a bit better.

Lois grabbed Castle's arm and waved for Clark to follow as she dragged him out the door. "Let's get home... I'm starved."

Clark laughed and offered his hand to Beckett. She took it and marveled at the strength of the man as she helped her to her feet. "We better hurry. The one thing you don't want to do is keep Lois waiting."

Kate returned his smile. "Well, we wouldn't want to do that, would we?"

***

Lois was having a great time. The dinner had gone splendidly and the two couples had been entertaining each other by trading 'war stories'. Lois was amazed at how much Detective Beckett had gone through in such a short time and was saddened by the obvious pain the woman carried due to her mother's horrific murder. It was clear that the young woman had built walls to protect herself; a practice that Lois was only too familiar with. She just hoped that with Beckett it wouldn't take as long for someone to tear those walls down as it had been for Lois. She liked Kate and saw her as someone who deserved to be happy.

Lois glanced over at Rick. He was currently holding court; expounding on one of their more recent cases. Judging by Kate's frequent eye rolling she guessed that he was exaggerating things... just a bit.

She knew, based on their correspondences over that past several months that Rick was quite taken with Kate Beckett. It was unfortunate that the young detective didn't seem to feel quite the same. Though, if Lois was any judge, it was obvious that Beckett was quite fond of Castle. After all, she called him her friend... and partner. Lois was only too aware of where those feelings could lead. She only hoped they didn't wait too long to admit it to each other. You always regret the time lost.

***

It was fairly late when Castle and Beckett got back to their hotel. Against her stated wishes he hadn't gotten each of them a separate room. Instead he had booked the penthouse suite. She had been angry, at first, when she saw that he'd booked only the one suite, but relented when she saw exactly how spacious the place was. I had a huge living room which opened out to a balcony which offered a spectacular view of Metropolis at night. She had to admit that she enjoyed sitting on the lush sofa, drinking expensive wine, and having pleasant conversation with Castle. But what really assuaged her initial annoyance was the inclusion of two bedrooms... with doors that locked from the inside.

Beckett took a sip of her wine and shook her head in wonder. "I still can't get over that you know someone like Lois Lane."

He gave her a faux frown. "I think I've been insulted."

Kate grinned. "You have."

He smirked. "My dear Detective Beckett, you know that I have a very public part to my life and as such have met and know a lot of people; some even more famous than Lois Lane."

"I'm not talking about the plastic people who have all the depth of character as a page from one of your books. People whose only concern is their next close up, or write up in one of those scandal rags." Kate waved her hand through the air. "Lois Lane is real. You don't normally associate with real."

Castle chuckled softly. "Now I know I've been insulted. I'll have you know that I have many friends whom you'd consider 'real'." He used his fingers to make quote signs.

Kate laughed. "Name one."

He grinned. "NYPD Detective Kate Beckett. I have it on very good authority that they don't get much more real than her, and I feel confident in saying that she's a good friend of mine."

Her smile was warm and genuine. "Yeah, I guess you could say that, but don't spread it around, I wouldn't want to undermine my reputation."

"Your secret is safe with me."

He leaned back into the soft cushions of the sofa. "They make a cute couple. It's almost like they were meant to be." He grinned. "She loves him very much."

Kate smiled in return. "He loves her even more, and I agree, I think those two were fated to be together."

Rick gave Beckett one of his patented smirks. "You know they started out as friends and partners just like we are." He waggled his brow. "Maybe there's hope for us yet?"

Kate rolled her eyes and shook her head. She eased her way up from the sofa and stretched; a yawn cracked her jaw. "Well this 'friend' is tired and is going to go to bed." She moved toward the bedroom she had selected earlier.

He raised his glass to her. "Goodnight Kate."

She stopped at the door and turned back toward him. "Night Castle."

Lois stifled a yawn as she puttered around the kitchen making herself some toast and coffee. She hadn't slept well. She couldn't remember any specific dreams but she had tossed and turned all night. Clark had to wake her a couple of times to calm her down. She had woken with an overpowering sense of dread. It was like she was waiting for some impending doom to strike.

Clark had to leave early to handle a bank robbery and told her he'd meet her at the Planet later with the story for the afternoon edition. She tried to put her black mood out of her mind. After all, she had to get to work. As the editor of the greatest newspaper in the world she had a responsibility to her staff and the readers. Her mentor, the late Perry White, had instilled that ethic in her and she never wanted to let his memory down.

To move her attention away from her troubled feelings she shifted her focus onto a more pleasant subject. She'd just gotten a new email from Rick Castle yesterday and she couldn't help but smile at the happy ramblings he'd shared with her. She was so happy for him and Beckett.

It had been some hard times for them the last couple of years. Beckett had lost her captain to a nasty shooting incident that had left Lois feeling like there was a lot more to the story than Rick had mentioned in his missives. Then had come the near tragic shooting of Detective Beckett at Captain Montgomery's funeral. It had been a near thing but the young woman was a fighter and had pulled through the surgery. Her recovery had been long and difficult but after a year of ups and downs for the quixotic pair they'd finally come to realize what they meant to each other and had acknowledged their feelings for each other.

Lois knew that Castle had been in relationships before. She knew that he'd been married, and divorced, twice. But just the tenor of his emails and the tone of his voice on those rare occasions when they spoke on the phone told her that this was different. This time Rick was really in love. Unless she was totally mistaken in her read of this, Lois knew that Rick had finally found his soul mate. She just hoped that it was true for Kate Beckett also. The woman truly deserved this chance at happiness.

With a promise to herself to contact Rick soon and arrange to get together again, she exited her home on Hyperion and headed for work.

Maybe this time she and Clark would go to New York.

***

Detective Kate Beckett strode out of the elevator onto the 4th floor of the 12th precinct. This was her world. She'd been a cop for over 13 years now and she couldn't imagine doing anything else. Her mother's murder had been the catalyst that had put her on this career path, but she couldn't help but think that she would have wound up here eventually anyway. She was born for this.

"Yo, Beckett, where's Castle? You two have a lover's spat?"

Kate gave a quick glance toward Captain Gate's office, then glared at Detective Javier Esposito. "Where's Ryan?" She gave her head a nod toward the Captain's office. "Don't you two have something to do?"

He gave her a bright smile. "Ryan's in the break room and... nope, we don't have anything to do at the moment."

She walked over to her desk and grabbed a couple of files. She walked back and dropped them on his desk. "Now you do."

Kate glanced over at Captain Victoria "Iron" Gates office as she sat down. Gates had assumed command after Roy Montgomery's murder a couple of years ago.

Her years as a cop had been tumultuous, to say the least. At first, her mother's murder had been her driving focus. It occupied her entire being for years. It nearly tore her apart. She went down that rabbit hole and almost didn't come back. It took all her strength and a fair amount of therapy to let it go. At least enough to be able to function back in the real world.

She shifted her focus to becoming the best police officer she could. She became the youngest women to make detective. Her case closure rate was the best in the precinct, and Captain Montgomery had called her the best he'd ever trained. Still, all work and no play made Kate a dull girl.

Then Richard Castle came into her life. She had known his work and was a fan of his books. She'd even stood in line for over an hour waiting to get an autograph. Of course, that was something she would never tell him.

At first he was an annoyance. Then gradually, she came to enjoy his antics; his wild theories and out of the box thought processes. Castle went from an annoyance to an asset. He became her friend and her partner; and now so much more.

His feelings toward her were much more transparent much earlier. It had taken her four long years and a couple near death experiences to finally allow herself to return his love. She had denied it for a long time, but she'd never been happier with anyone else. She was cautious, but she no longer could imagine her life without him.

Which lead to their current dilemma. Gates didn't like Castle. She didn't want any 'dilettante writer' playing cop in her precinct. Only the mayor's insistence had allowed Castle to remain a part of her team. Only, if Gates knew that she and Castle were a dating couple, she could use NYPD regulations to send Rick packing.

They had to be circumspect when at the station, especially around Gates. And that was getting harder by the day. Espo and Ryan had found out fairly early on, and she had confided in her friend Lanie. The woman had been badgering Kate forever to tell Castle how she felt about him: even before she knew herself. She and Rick might be a couple now, but at work they had to play it platonic.

Detective Kevin Ryan was the junior member of the team, but his previous work as an undercover narcotics agent in the Irish mob had led to numerous arrests and a deep respect for his dedication. He passed Beckett's desk, a cup of espresso in his hand.

"Hey, Beckett, where's Castle? It's a little late, even for him."

Kate frowned. Yeah, where was Castle? They'd had quite the 'good time' last night but he couldn't be that worn out... could he? A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She thought he had more stamina than that.

Suddenly her computer beeped; alerting her to a new email. She clicked on the icon and watched as the attached video file streamed.

In the few moments it took for the video to play Kate Beckett's world came crashing down.

***

Lois sat behind her desk as she fought the good fight again. It pained her to have to watch the decline of newsprint. It was a profession she was born for. Being an investigative reporter had always been her dream, but time has a cruel way of changing the world around you. Now, as Editor-in-Chief, it was her task to make a newspaper competitive in the age of instant information. Even the greatest paper in the free world had trouble competing against television and the internet. There was no way a newspaper, even a daily, could be the first with the big headline. No way could they break a story before it was already hours old.

No, Lois realized that she could no longer be first with the story so she had to settle for being the best. Television and the internet were unsurpassed at the breaking headline, but that was all they did. It was up to her and institutions like the Daily Planet to give the public the complete, in-depth look behind the headline. That's where newspapers could still excel, and as long as there were people to buy it, she was going to do her damnest to give them her best.

Just then a darkly handsome gentleman poked his head through her open door. "You wanted to see me, Lois?"

Her eyes darken with passion. "I always want to see you; c'mere."

He grinned as he moved gracefully over to her desk. She grabbed his tie and pulled his head level to hers. She crushed her lips onto his as if it had been years since they'd last seen each other rather than hours. Only the need to actually breathe caused them to separate.

"While I'm always in favor of these short, impromptu meetings..." His grin grew wider, as he planted another quick kiss on her inviting lips. "Did you actually have something you wanted to say to me?"

Lois returned her husband's grin. "Actually, Clark, I did. I've had this uncomfortable feeling all day. I can't explain it, but I can't shake it either. It's like I know something bad is going to happen." She leaned closer to Clark. "Could you see your way clear to stick close today? No running off to be 'super' unless it's really necessary?"

A look of confusion crossed his face. "Sure, I suppose so, but Lois, do you really..."

The loud ring of her phone interrupted the conversation. Almost hesitantly, Lois reached for the receiver. "Lois Lane."

***

Both Detective's Esposito and Ryan were standing behind Beckett's desk as the emailed video ran again. If Kate hadn't been sitting down she would have fallen down. Her hands were shaking when she hit the replay. She was holding back any tears but her eyes burned with the need for release and a cold fist had a tight grip on her heart.

She was forced to watch the short, deadly message again. The scene was one of sparsely wooded grassland obviously some distance outside the city. It showed two heavy set men manhandling someone from a late model dark sedan. A third fellow came out from behind the wheel. He held a gun in his right hand. The trio and their captive approached a large hole that clearly had been freshly dug. The captive was thrown into the hole.

Whoever was doing the camera work shifted perspective to the inside of the hole. The captive was sprawled across something that resided at the bottom of the hole. When he stood up next to it they could clearly see that it was a coffin. The camera shifted to the man with the gun. There was no sound but it was evident that words were being exchanged. He gestured aggressively with the gun and the point of view shifted back to the victim in the hole. When he looked up at his captors the camera got a good, full view of his face. It was Richard Castle.

Kate bit on her lip as she saw the slump of Castle's shoulders as he lifted the lid on the coffin. It wasn't any cheap casket; it was very well appointed and she could see that Castle couldn't resist making some smart ass remark. Even in the silence Kate could see the effects of the gun being fired. Castle flinched as a piece of the coffin splintered from the impact of a bullet.

He heaved a big sigh and looked up into the camera. He mouthed the words 'I'm sorry' and bent over to get into the coffin. Beckett knew those words had been meant for her. Seeing it again almost made her lose it, but she held on.

Once lying prone in the plush setting, he allowed the lid to close over him. The two heavy set men began to shovel dirt into the impromptu grave. The video time lapsed till the hole had been completely covered over. Then the crew got back into the car and left.

There had been no sound, but a short message scrolled at the end of the email. It read 'An eye for an eye -- His air with run out by noon today'. Then the message went black.

Beckett glanced at her watch. It was 10:17. In less than two hours the man she'd finally come to realize was her 'one and done' would suffocate. A most horrible way to die. She glanced back at her two brothers in blue.

"What are we going to do?"

Both were badly shaken by what they had seen, but finally Esposito spoke. "Were you with him this morning?"

Kate nodded. "Yeah, I left about 7:00. He was just getting up." She grimaced. "I didn't realize I wore him out so much," she muttered under her breath. "He told me not to wait; that he'd catch up. He had a few errands to run anyway."

Esposito nodded. "So, say he was taken as early as 7:30, 8 o'clock. With the time stamp on the email the burial took place around 9:45. So, at best, they had two hours to get to their destination. Assuming the hole had been pre-dug, that means they could have gotten as far as 80 to 90 miles."

Ryan ran over to a cabinet and pulled an area map out and brought it over to Beckett's desk. They laid it out and looked it over. Using the maps' mileage scale and a compass, they drew a 90 mile circle using Castle's loft as the center.

Ryan pointed to an area north and west of the city. "This seems the most likely spot they would have gone, it's open country and only a few smaller communities around."

"Yeah, but it's still hundreds of square miles to cover and we have no leads on where to begin looking, or even who we might be looking for." Beckett's voice was full of pain and despair. She didn't want to give up on Castle but she felt lost as to what to do. She hadn't felt this helpless since her mother's murder all those years ago.

"Plates?" she asked.

Both of her partners shook their heads. "Nope, never saw them in the field of vision. Couldn't really tell the make of the vehicle either. All the shots were too close to get a good picture of the car."

"So what do we do?" There was a definite note of desperation in the lovely detective's voice.

"Whatever we can." Esposito laid a comforting hand on Kate's shoulder.

Beckett took a deep breath and glared down at the map on her desk. "Okay, we start by calling every small town municipal police station or county sheriff and ask them to send out everyone they have to search for possible sites where someone could have done some fresh digging. Maybe someone saw something. It had to have taken them some time to dig a hole that big and transport that coffin there."

Ryan shook his head. "You know this is beyond a needle in a haystack. It will take hours to make all those phone calls and we're not even sure we're looking in the right area."

Beckett bit her lip as she nodded. "I know, but what else can we do?"

***

Beckett, Esposito, and Ryan had been making phone calls for over an hour and had nothing to show for it. The frustration level was only topped by her fear. Castle had only about a half an hour of air left. There was no way they were going to be able to find him in time. She was going to lose the only man she had ever really loved. It just wasn't fair. It had taken them so long to finally come together after years of missteps and misunderstandings. Why did she have to suffer this kind of loss again?

Ryan threw his pencil against the far wall. "This is pointless. We'd have to be a Superman to have any chance of finding Castle in time."

Kate's head snapped up. For the first time since she'd seen the video a small beacon of hope crept into her voice. "Exactly!"

Her fingers flew over her keyboard and she typed in the contact information request for the Daily Planet. It only took a moment for her to find the right number. She quickly dialed and after the third ring she got an answer.

"Daily Planet, how may I direct your call?"

"This is Kate Beckett from the New York Police Department. I need to speak to Lois Lane. It's urgent."

***

Clark stepped back when Lois picked up the receiver.

"Lois Lane." He watched as a smile came across her face. "Kate, it's good to hear from you. What's up?" When Clark saw Lois' expression change he kicked in his hearing so he could get both sides of the conversation. Lois was talking to Rick Castle's friend and partner, Detective Kate Beckett and she sounded distraught.

"I'm sorry to bother you Lois but I'm desperate. Castle has been kidnapped and I received a video of him being put in a coffin and buried."

Lois shot Clark a look of horror. "Oh my god, Kate, what can I do to help?"

There was a shuddering of a breath on the other end of the line. The young detective was near her breaking point. "I know it's a lot to ask but I'm at the end of my rope. Castle only has about a half an hour of air left. If I can't find him he'll suffocate. Is it possible that you could contact Superman for me?"

"Certainly, Kate, we'll be there as soon as possible. What's the address of your precinct?"

Kate rattled off the address and thanked Lois profusely. "Don't think another thing about it, Kate. See you soon."

Lois hung up and looked over at her husband. He could tell she knew he'd been listening. "I'm going to tell Jimmy we're going out to lunch."

He watched as she hurried out the door and grabbed Jimmy to relay her message. She turned back and frowned at him. He shook himself out of his reverie and followed her out.

Once out of the building they detoured into the nearest alley and after a quick spin change into the suit, they were off.

***

Beckett was in the Captain's office filling in Gates as to their lack of progress when suddenly a commotion broke out in the precinct. Gates glanced out her window to see what all the hubbub was about. Her mouth dropped open as an attractive, petite brunette strode through the bullpen followed by...Superman!

She turned quickly to her best detective. "You knew about this?"

Kate tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I was just about to tell you about that."

The two women exited the Captain's office. Upon seeing her, the slight brunette ran over and gave Beckett a hug.

"Oh, Kate, we came as fast as we could. How are you holding up? Is there any new news? "

Kate shook her head. "No, there isn't." She glanced around the room seeing the astonished looks on her fellow officers. There was an undertow of murmurs. Kate held up her hands for attention. "Everyone, this is Lois Lane, and I'm sure her friend needs no introduction. They've offered to help us find Castle." Kate turned back to her Captain. "Captain Gates, this is Lois Lane and ... Superman."

Victoria Gates shook Lois' hand then Superman's. "I'm very pleased to meet you both, but am somewhat surprised to see you here. I didn't know you knew Detective Beckett."

Lois spoke. "I only met Kate the one time she visited Metropolis, but I've been a friend of Rick Castle's for years."

Gates raised her brow. "Of course you are." Lois snuck Kate a look, but Beckett looked away. "Well, I'll leave you folks to it. I hope your involvement will lead us to a more desirable outcome." Lois just nodded as Gates turned and went back into her office.

"A more desirable outcome?" Lois directed her words at Beckett.

Kate shrugged. "You have to understand. Captain Gates doesn't like Castle. She was forced into accepting him through the insistence of the mayor, who does like Castle. Over the years she has grudgingly come to accept that Castle is actually an integral part of my team. The fact we have the best case closure rate in the city allows her to let things continue the way they have. She's loosened up some, seeing firsthand how valuable Castle has been, but she still doesn't like him."

Lois shook her head. "Who doesn't like Rick?"

"Yeah, well, we won't get into that right now."

Kate ushered the pair from Metropolis over to her desk and made the introductions with Esposito and Ryan. Ryan had a tendency to stare up at Superman. It was obviously making him uncomfortable.

She quickly replayed the emailed video for them. Lois gasped when the thugs began throwing dirt back into the grave. Superman asked Kate to replay the video several times. She watched as he noted everything about the surrounding landscape that was visible from the message.

He turned back to Kate. "Is there an access to the roof? I think it will be easier and quicker if I can take off from there."

She nodded. "Yeah, we have roof access. I'll take you up there."

Kate saw Lois glance at the clock. She laid her hand on his arm. "He only has about 10 minutes of air left."

Superman nodded at the worried look on Lois' face, then turned and followed Beckett to the elevator.

They took the elevator to the top floor and from there down a hall to a back stair that led to the door to the roof. The wind blew Kate's hair into her face. She impatiently grabbed at it and tucked it behind her ear.

Superman placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know you care very much about him and I promise I'll do my best to find him and bring him back to you."

She gave the super hero a tremulous smile and nodded. "Thank you." She took a breath. "We believe that his abductors couldn't have gotten more than ninety miles from the city and the most likely direction to search, given the landscape, would be north and west."

He gave her a smile of encouragement then took off in a gust of wind that had her hair in her face once again. Moments after he was gone from view the access door opened and Lois, along with Ryan and Esposito came out. When they made it to the spot she was standing, Lois put her arm around Kate's waist and gave her a hug.

"He'll find Rick for you Kate; he's a hero, it's what he does."

***

They all stood of the roof for several minutes; nobody said anything. Lois watched the young detective staring in the direction that Clark had recently flown off to. She saw a lone tear slide down Kate's cheek. The woman was hurting and Lois could feel the pain coming off her like something physical, something solid.

Lois took Kate's hand and caused Beckett to look at her. "So, I hear you and Rick are finally together?"

Kate chewed on her lower lip and nodded.

Lois allowed herself a short chuckle. "Only took you guys five years; and I thought Clark and I took a long time to realize the obvious."

Lois smiled when she saw the slight upturn of Kate's lips. "Yeah, well, Castle and I never did things the easy way." Beckett raised her brow. "So where is your husband?"

Lois shrugged. "He's holding down the home front. Someone has to keep the Daily Planet running in my absence."

Kate looked at her watch. Her shoulders sagged. "By my count, Castle ran out of air about 5 minutes ago." She turned to Lois; a few more tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. "I can't lose him now, Lois; not after all we went through. It's not fair."

Lois shook her head. "Life's not always fair, Kate." She glanced up, noticing an ever growing speck in the sky coming toward them. She smiled. "But I wouldn't worry about losing Rick just yet; look." She pointed.

The three detectives and Lois watched as the speck grew larger. In moments they could make out the bright primary colors of Superman's costume. He was holding someone next to him. In another few moments they could make out that Superman was indeed holding Richard Castle.

Esposito and Ryan high-fived each other; Kate put her hands to her mouth and let tears of relief flow while Lois just smiled as a couple of tears of her own slipped, unnoticed, onto her cheek.

Once he'd landed on the rooftop, Superman released Castle from his grip. Castle seemed beside himself with excitement. "Beckett... Kate, did you see that! I flew with Superman... Superman!"

Kate stood motionless for several heartbeats. Lois could see the fear and the tension the poor woman had been holding at bay all morning finally leech from her body. Suddenly she was hurtling toward her partner, and lover.

Beckett threw herself into Castle's arms, nearly knocking him over as she crushed her lips onto his. It was a kiss of desperation and affirmation all at once. Lois moved quickly over to The Man of Steel and placed her hand on his arm. "Thank you."

"I'm just glad I could help."

Lois turned toward the now breathless partners. They stood in each other's arms staring into each other's eyes. She could see the little boy in Castle begin to gain supremacy once again.

"I flew with Superman!" He whispered fiercely. "It was so awesome!"

Kate laughed. "Oh course it was, Castle; how could it be anything but awesome?" She grabbed his hand and led him toward the door back into the precinct. "Let's go catch some bad guys."

Lois surreptitiously reached back and interlocked her fingers with Clark's. She gave him a squeeze which he promptly returned. She was happy. Seeing Rick and Kate together, she knew they were going to work out just fine.

fin

The following story –

“Lunkheads”

by – bakasi

was Nominated in the:

Best Super Sort Story

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Lunkheads

By bakasi <bakasi_dick@hotmail.com>

Rated G

Submitted April 2013

Summary: H.G. Wells is on yet another journey through several universes, trying to save the world. Tired and sick of what she has seen so far, Lois has just one question: Why help all those lunkheads?

***

"I'm beat," Lois sighed, as she sank down onto the seat of the time-machine. "When you asked us to help you, I didn't think rescuing Utopia would be so difficult!" She rubbed her neck as a headache was starting to build up. This had already been a long day, and there was no telling when H.G. Wells would consider this mission to be complete.

"Why is it that we need to travel through so many different universes, anyway? I thought that everything was fine in our own," Clark asked as he joined Lois. "You said that the last time you visited the future, Utopia was still intact." He furrowed his brows, exasperated at the fact that the author so far had been pretty secretive.

"Ah, well, yes," H.G. Wells said and blushed at the remark. "But there were slight changes that I wasn't able to explain. It was just a tad bit darker than it used to be. Look, I would love to explain it more in detail, but we--"

"--need to hurry," Lois and Clark finished in unison, most definitely not hearing this for the first time.

"You keep saying that, Herbert," Lois continued impatiently. "But I just don't see why we should help all those tremendous lunkheads out there. I didn't know how lucky I am that *my* Clark is just a regular sized one."

"Lois--" Clark said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Try to understand them -- being different from anyone else is not easy. It's completely natural for them to be--"

"Don't you even try to defend them, Clark!" Lois snorted. "Let me see, where have we been so far? First it was a universe in which Clark is in love with Lana Lang, a girl that is wearing a kryptonite necklace, for goodness sake! He didn't even realize how badly she was treating him. And his Lois--"

"He hadn't yet met her," Clark pointed out.

"Pshaw! He's a lunkhead all the same! When he later met his Lois, he kept ignoring her. It took ages to make him see that she was his soul-mate," Lois replied, shaking her head in disbelief. She braced herself for another journey through time and space as H.G. Wells once more started the engine of his time-machine. The world around them faded and soon they were again rushing through interdimensional space.

"All I'm saying, is--" Clark tried once more, but Lois flashed him a glance that instantly silenced him.

"In the second universe Clark ran off to find a dead planet, instead of staying with his Lois who was pregnant with his child!" Lois went on, fuming. "And he didn't even have the guts to tell her about his plans, or that he's Superman for that matter. Concerning those other guys we saw -- don't even get me started on them! So will you please tell us why we had to interrupt our first vacation in, well-- *ever* just to help you bring those idiots to terms?"

"Well, like I said, it's complicated." H.G. Wells said uneasily. "To cut a long story short, you could say that all those universes without a Utopia seriously disturb the balance between good and evil. Eventually, this effect will destroy our Utopia as well." He looked over his shoulder to check if he still had their attention. Obviously content, he continued. "When I was last there, I could already see the first signs of this development. If we find enough universes that we can influence in such a way that the Loises and Clarks there will found Utopia, we can restore the balance and our Utopia will be safe."

"Uh huh," Lois muttered, trying to understand what Wells had just told her. It did not seem to make a lot of sense. Anyway, the bottom line was that they were far from finished. She sighed and tried to get more comfortable in her seat. This was going to be a long day.

Eventually, the colours around them changed as they reached yet another universe. Next to her, Clark could hardly stifle a yawn. He looked just as tired as she was. Gradually, their surroundings became clearer and Lois watched just another Lois and Clark, sharing a long kiss. So far, this wasn't so bad, she thought. But what happened next made her mouth gap open. Her heart missed a beat. Then she felt white hot fury burn through her.

"Okay, that's it. I'm done here," Lois exploded. "Did this *** actually wipe her memory with a kiss?"

THE END

The following story –

“Miracle”

by – Deadly Chakram

was Nominated in the:

Best Short Stories,

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Miracle

By Deadly Chakram <dwelf82@yahoo.com>

Rated: PG-13

Submitted: December 2013

Summary: Lois' thoughts as she watches Clark on the night of their son's birth.

Disclaimer: I neither own, nor make, anything. All *Lois & Clark* characters, plot points, and lines of dialogue belong to DC Comics, Warner Bros., December 3rd Productions, and anyone else with a stake in the Superman franchise. As always, I'm just playing with my toys.

Special Thanks: Go to my twin daughters and my husband, who inspired this story.

***

Night.

The most wondrous and magical night I've ever had.

The first night of our new life.

The night our child was born.

It still seems like half a dream. It still feels unreal. It still feels somehow remote, like I'm witnessing it happen to some other couple, watching some other child.

Because it shouldn't be happening. Not to us. It shouldn't be possible. Doctor Klein and my own father both agreed that, biologically, Clark and I are not compatible. That humans and Kryptonians cannot have children together. Because all the months and years of trying anyway have produced only heartbreaking negative pregnancy test after another.

I can't even remember the pain of childbirth anymore. I'm only dimly aware of how many long hours I labored to bring this little person into the world. It no longer matters. Hours or days, in an instant, it was irrelevant. As soon as our baby was out into the world, all I was aware of was him. That button nose. Those curious brown eyes, half squinted against the sudden onslaught of light. Funny, I thought most babies were born with blue eyes. But already, his eyes are unmistakably Clark's.

Perfect fingers, tiny toes. Healthy lungs screaming his displeasure at being forced out of his nice warm home in favor of the cooler outside world. Black hair sticking out from beneath the white and blue striped hat they stuck on his head. Hands fisted in defiance as he cried, before the doctor so expertly wiped him clean and bundled him into a tight swaddle.

This is all I saw. This, and the happy tears welled within my husband's eyes; pride and pure love made tangible. And my heart actually broke with a love I hadn't known I was capable of. Not just for my son, but for his father. I've always loved Clark with such fierce intensity that I cannot put it into words, because mere words are laughably inadequate. But seeing him now, in this new light of fatherhood, brings that love to a level I could not have ever imagined.

It's quiet now, here in this hospital room, at this small hour of the night. Peaceful, even. For the first time in what feels like forever, we are alone. No doctors. No nurses. No one coming to monitor me. No one coming to check on the baby. No beeping machines monitoring my blood pressure, the baby's heartbeat, my contractions. We are finally alone, just the three of us. The Kent family.

Family.

There once was a time when that word left a bad taste in my mouth. Family meant fighting. Family meant unhappiness. Family meant brokenness.

And now...

Family means safety and security. It stands for love without restrictions or limits. It's a sense of being home, no matter where I am or what I'm doing. It's acceptance and support and belonging, a sense of worth I'd never before felt in my life. It is comfort and peace.

Family is Clark.

Family is our newborn son.

Family means miracles.

Before Clark was so unexpectedly thrust into my life, I was barely aware of how unhappy my life was. On some level, I guess I knew something was missing, but I didn't realize the depth of my loneliness. Somehow, I'd convinced myself that I didn't need anyone. Didn't need love. Didn't need a family. Correction -- didn't *want *a family. And who could blame me? The absentee father and the alcoholic mother. The sister whom I loved, but who was slowly ruining her life by dating loser after loser. So I focused on my career and shoved thoughts of family from my thoughts. I had my dream job, and I was damn good at it. I'd won more than one prestigious award, and had my eye on the Pulitzer. For me, change would have taken a miracle.

And then Clark waltzed into my life. Saddled with him as an unwanted partner, I tried to hate him. Tried to pretend that I was better off without him. Tried to ignore the fact that he was the most decent and polite man I'd ever met. It was safer that way, I thought. Safer for me to remain hidden behind the defensive walls I'd built around myself. Safer for my heart, if I didn't allow him access to it.

But, slowly, he broke down those walls, slunk in through the cracks and pulled the stones apart, one by one, before I could even realize what was happening. He became my friend, my best friend, my love. And each development, each new day, was a new miracle. Soon, we were married and enjoying our new life together, now as husband and wife. And I thought nothing could make me happier.

But there was still something missing. Some element of life that wasn't there. Children. We needed to share our love with a baby, because there was so much there for us to give. And when we were told it would never happen, our heartbreak was beyond description. *Never*. Such a final and cold word. *Never*. I would never know what it would be like to be pregnant, to feel a child grow within me, day by day as I counted the weeks until he or she would be in my arms. Would never give birth. Would never have a child that was the best parts of Clark and me.

I felt so hollow, so inadequate, so broken. I felt that it was somehow my fault, that my DNA and Clark's were incompatible for reproduction. I felt so...absolutely powerless, because there was literally nothing I could do to change the situation, to heal the hurt I knew Clark harbored in his heart, hidden away as best he could while he put on a brave face for my benefit. But... I knew.

I knew he'd always wanted a family -- children of his own, not just a wife to love him.

And then -- a miracle.

After exploring every option, considering every route, and finally starting to accept our childless fate, it happened. We were pregnant. Somehow, we'd beaten the odds. No, more than that. We'd achieved the impossible. A child, created of our love, was growing within me. Clark would have the son or daughter he'd always envisioned. He would finally be the greatest superhero on Earth -- a daddy.

When I told him this -- that he was going to be a father – it was the first time I'd ever seen him cry. Tears of the purest joy sprang into his eyes as his face erupted into a smile so vast, so bright, it made the sun look dark in comparison. And he hugged me, so securely and tightly and gently, all the while laughing and kissing me. I could almost imagine that I could feel his excitement actually reverberating through his entire body. Such joy came from him, such love. I've never before seen a happier man.

Every new development in my pregnancy was a cause for celebration. The first time I wore a maternity shirt. The first ultrasound. The first time we felt the baby kick. Clark even woke me once, about six weeks into our pregnancy, in the middle of the night, with a huge grin on his face, just to inform me that, while he'd been laying next to me after a rescue, listening to my heartbeat, suddenly I had not one, but two. Still, every doctor appointment was a source of both stress and relief. Stress because we hoped and prayed that everything was progressing well with the baby's development. Never before had there been a baby with both human and Kryptonian DNA. Would that combination cause complications? Would it prove to be fatal to the child? Relief because every time, we were assured that all was perfect with our baby.

From the first moments, Clark was the most involved father I've ever come across. Long before the baby could even hear, he was talking to him, reading to him, telling him how much we both loved him and couldn't wait to meet him. Long before the baby could kick, Clark was there, resting his hand on my expanding stomach, hoping to feel movement, trying to impart love to the baby, trying to protect his boy. Long before I could possibly feel any discomfort, my husband was already doing his utmost to ensure that I was comfortable, well-rested, and had all my favorite (and new favorite) treats at hand. Of course, it made him even more overprotective of me than usual, but for once, I did not mind. We had our miracle baby on the way, and that was all that mattered.

During the delivery, Clark never left my side. Sometimes he sat next to me in the high-backed hospital chair. Other times he paced the room, filled with a nervous energy I'd never witnessed from him before. Superman may have delivered his fair share of newborns, but never before had Clark Kent seen his own flesh and blood born. All through the pushing, he was right there at my side, mopping my sweaty brow with a cold, wet rag. He tenderly stroked my hair, he allowed me to crush his hand in a grip that rivaled Superman's when the pain was too much. And his words of love, support, and encouragement never stopped. He was a cheerleading squad and labor coach all rolled into one single man.

I could see from his expression the moment our son was fully out into the world, before I could feel it in my body, before the doctor could announce our boy's birth. The wonderment. The unbridled love. The almost disbelief that our son was really here. That half-second seemed somehow frozen in time to me, stretching on into infinity even while the world raced on around him, us. And then he turned to me, forcing his gaze from his newborn child, to tell me how tiny and perfect he was just before our boy's unhappy howl filled the room as he took his first breath.

Now, however, the baby is quiet, here in the dead of the night. Swaddled in his hospital-issued blankets, a fresh and clean hat on his head, he sleeps, nestled comfortably in his daddy's arms. Neither of them is aware that I am awake. I know because Clark always seems to know when I'm looking at him. His eyes will capture mine and a smile will play across his features as he is broken from whatever task he's been working at. But not now. Now his attention is focused solely on the tiny infant cradled in his arms as he stands, half turned away from me, rocking his body from side to side. And that's exactly how I want things; I want to just lay here and watch father and son interact. I see Clark's lips move but hear no words -- a secret, nearly silent conversation he's having with his son. I don't doubt that he's once again telling him how much we love him and how long we've waited to meet him.

Clark's features are soft in the dim lighting of the room; he's turned on only the barest minimum by which to see. But the low lighting somehow frames his face in a way that transforms him, making me see him in a way I never have before. He looks almost...angelic, standing there, transfixed by the newborn he's holding. Older and wiser too, but somehow looking as though years have fallen from him in the same instant. Since the moment I first met him, I was aware, on some level, of his tenderness. But now...now his loving, gentle heart is plain for even a stranger to see, all by the way his eyes sparkle and dance as he gazes down at the miracle we've created.

He sits now, sinking easily down onto the padded rocking chair in the corner of the room. I close my eyes until they are open but a slit, still unwilling to be more than an observer of this magical moment. But I needn't worry. Clark still has eyes only for the baby. A heartbeat later I can just barely hear the low hum of a lullaby as he begins to rock his sleeping boy. A smile crosses his lips as he hums his song, the awed expression never leaving his face. And my heart melts.

This was always meant to be. I know it now. Whatever hardships and disappointments we've faced have only made us stronger. All the moments of despair and doubt have only prepared us for this indescribable happiness. All the bitterness of closed doors and negative tests have only made this moment all the sweeter.

Clark will be a great father. I've never once doubted that. Whether to a child of our own, or one we'd adopt, or even one we might have chanced to find in a spaceship, there is no one who could love a child more than my husband. And I know now that's true of myself as well. There is no woman on Earth, Krypton, or any other planet who loves her child more than I love this perfect newborn boy. And that's really the important thing, isn't it? I know that Clark and I will both make mistakes as we learn what it is to be a parent. I know we'll have bad days along with the good ones, where we'll both wonder if we truly are suited to the task of raising another human being. But our boy is lucky -- he's got a mom and a dad who are willing to do anything to ensure his happiness, his safety, his success in life.

Baby boy, you don't know it now, but you truly *are* a miracle. A son of Krypton and a child of Earth, carrying on the best of both worlds. A perfect blend of your parents. A son born out of the purest, fiercest, truest love imaginable.

Thank you, for letting us be your parents.

Welcome to the world, and happy birthday.

THE END

The following story –

“One Small Detail”

by – Female Hawk

was Nominated in the:

Best Super Short Story,

and

Best Revelation

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

One Small Detail

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

Rated G

Submitted February 2013

Summary: A good newsman notices detail.

These characters are not mine. Thanks to Lynn for betaing at short notice and to GooBoo for being the GE.

***

I stare at the front page of the morning edition of the Daily Planet.

Under the masthead, there's a one-word headline, two paragraphs giving a taste of the story that continues on the second, third, fourth, and fifth pages, and a huge, colour photograph of a man lifting a rocket into space.

I've been in the newspaper business for forty years, but I know this story will change my world, my life, and my job forever.

When I was starting out as a junior reporter, my editor taught me the importance of detail.

He used to say, "Perry, not everything you notice will be included in a story, but if you don't notice something, it definitely won't be there. And that small detail could be what sets your story apart from the rest."

In the early days, one of my tasks each morning was to buy a cup of coffee from the stand outside the office and take it to my editor. One morning when I put it on his desk, he said, "Describe the vendor."

I had to think back, wading through my early-morning haze of sleep-deprivation, a few thousand ever-circulating Elvis facts, a cache of embryonic story ideas, and a long list of ways to convince my editor to let me write them. To my dismay, I discovered my memory bank held little about the coffee vendor I'd spoken to just five minutes earlier. "Dark hair, medium build, average height," was the best I could offer.

My editor slapped his desk so hard that his coffee sloshed onto a pile of papers. "You've just described eighty per cent of the men in Metropolis," he growled.

I was still contemplating whether I should offer to clean up the coffee when he told me to go and get him another one.

As I waited in the queue, I stared at the vendor, memorizing every detail. He had a short, well-kept beard -- how could I have missed that? - and on closer examination as I paid for the coffee, I noticed a thin line of irregularity in the bristles, stretching from his left cheek down to his jaw.

I took the second cup of coffee back to my editor, but to my great disappointment, he didn't ask for a description of the vendor. He gave me the pile of stained and soggy papers and told me to re-type the damaged ones.

I did so, frustrated that I was wasting time when I could have been chasing down real stories.

Over the following days, I studied the vendor's face until it became more familiar than my own. Then, I moved on, memorizing the facial details of the people waiting in the queue, the passers-by, the office janitors. When the vendor was replaced by a middle-aged woman, I had her face committed to memory in less time than it took her to make my editor's cappuccino.

Three months later, a body was found in the alley next to our office block. The victim had been brutally stabbed to the throat and chest. The police talked to us during their initial investigation, but no one had seen anything. One of the senior reporters wrote the story, but the case stalled due to the lack of a weapon, a motive, and a suspect, and it slipped from the first page to the sixth page to disappearing from the news altogether.

Until, ten days later, two detectives came to our office and asked everyone to look at a photo of a man they wanted to question.

No one recognised him. When my turn came, I looked at the face. The man was bald, wore glasses, was clean-shaven, and had nondescript features.

I was about to shake my head and say I'd never seen him before when I noticed something. I drew the photo closer and peered at his face. There was a faint scar running down his left cheek to his jaw.

I mentioned this to the officers. That evening, the former coffee vendor was arrested. He was charged with murder and later convicted.

My editor allowed me to write the story. It was my first front-page by-line.

I had learned my lesson well. A good newsman notices detail. It became a habit so ingrained that when Superman flew through the high window and gently deposited my best reporter in the bullpen, it wasn't the blatant defiance of gravity or the flashy cape that lodged in my memory, but the little freckle perched above the right side of his mouth.

I pick up the morning edition and turn the page. Jimmy's zoomed-in shot of Superman's face is staring back at me. My eyes automatically scan the superhero's upper lip. If he ever grew a moustache, would the bristles grow more sparsely over the freckle?

I doubt I will ever know the answer to that question.

I return the paper to my desk and sit back in my chair.

I have learned well, but as a teacher, I have to accept failure.

Lois Lane, my great hope for the newspaper business into the next millennium, hasn't yet learned the importance of detail.

Or if she has, she is so overwhelmed by the powers, the physique, and the body-hugging spandex that she missed something so small and seemingly inconsequential as a freckle.

And, she's so busy ramming home her lofty position as top dog to the new reporter from Smallville that I doubt she could improve much on my 'dark hair, medium build, average height' effort if I were to ask her to describe him.

Perhaps I should tell her the story of the coffee vendor.

Or perhaps not.

THE END

The following story –

“Practically Married”

by – KatherineKent

was Nominated in the:

Best Short Stories,

and

Best New Author

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Practically Married

By KatherineKent <victoria@seekersrest.plus.com>

Rated G

Submitted May 2013

Summary: Lois and Clark are practically married but don't realise it.

This is my first LnC submission and it's not the story I was supposed to be working on, but I had one of those moments when a plot jumps out at you and won't quit pulling on your sleeve. It came almost completely written in my head, so I just got on with it. The story that was supposed to be my LnC debut will have to wait. Anyway, this is for the May 2013 WAFFy challenge.

I'd like to say a huge thanks to my beta KenJ who had this dropped on him with no warning at all yet still got back to me in super quick time. Apart from his perfect revisions and comments I've not done any further editing though and it's still pretty much in original raw form. Hopefully you'll still enjoy it.

The change in POV between Lois' narration and the flashbacks in 3rd person are on purpose.

Disclaimer: Superman, Clark Kent, Lois Lane and all other character and place names are owned by DC and/or Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. I own nothing ... except my fantasies -- which frequently include Superman.

***

I don't know when it was that I finally realised it. Maybe when we recorded the answering machine message. Or maybe it was when we took our first vacation together. I sometimes try to work it out. But in the end it all comes back to the proposal. It totally took me by surprise. And it wouldn't have done that if I'd been suspecting in any way.

So, I guess that was when I realised that we were practically married without even knowing it. The only thing we didn't have was the licence.

How did it happen? How did we get to that stage without even realising it? Well, it was a gradual thing. Obviously. Otherwise we wouldn't have missed it.

It all started when we became friends: best friends.

***

"So what are we doing tonight, Lois," Clark asked.

"Um, I was thinking you could come over, bring Chinese and we'll look through the notes on the Stamford case," Lois replied casually, not at all concerned by his presumption that he was coming over. He just always did. That was their partnership.

Clark nodded in agreement. "Chinese all right? How about seven?"

Lois murmured, "Mmmm hmmm," as she returned her attention to her computer screen.

Clark came over most nights. It had been a couple of months since Perry had foisted him on her, but somehow she no longer minded. In fact she looked forward to working in the evenings with Clark more than the day work. Possibly the intense research, bouncing off each other, no interruptions lent itself more to the way they fit together.

"Oh, no. Clark," she looked up as she remembered. "I wanted to watch a movie on TV tonight."

"Oh!" Clark looked disappointed. "What time?" he asked quietly.

"Um, I guess it's not till later on. We could work first. Maybe you could even stay to watch. I'm sure it would be your kind of movie." Lois watched his face change from crushed disappointment to delight. Clark really did wear his heart on his sleeve. He was such a good friend and it was clear that he considered her a good and important friend by his initial disappointment.

"What movie?"

"Oh, action, adventure, explosions ... manly hero. You know. Guy's movie."

"Then why are you watching it Lois?" Clark's boyish teasing always got on her nerves. Why he could never let her win in an argument, or pass up an opportunity to make fun of her she had no idea. It annoyed her.

"For your information, Kent, I happen to like action," she spat back out at him. "Plus, I also admire the leading man," she sing-songed in a completely different tone to her previous statement, grinning like a teenage girl.

Clark's eyebrows raised in surprise but he said nothing.

***

And that was the start. Or maybe it had *already* started. But that was the point at which we began to spend most of our 'non-work' time together.

It was also the night that Clark became aware of my film star crush: Mel Gibson. We spent many evenings watching Mel Gibson movies while eating pizza, not quite touching, sitting on his couch. Yes, the evenings graduated over to his place rather than mine. Probably due to the homely and inviting atmosphere ... and the comfortable seating.

He was also fully aware of my Superhero crush, but that gradually faded: turning into admiration and friendship. I sometimes suspected that he was jealous of the man in blue, but that would mean he felt something more than friendship, and that thought was just preposterous ... wasn't it.

And so we spent every evening together.

Clark walked me home from work on many occasions. I would hang onto his arm all the way.

We danced together on social occasions, often to the exclusion of all other guests.

Anyone without insider knowledge would have sworn we were a couple.

But we weren't.

We were just good friends. Or so we thought.

***

"Lois!" Clark screamed as he shot into her apartment through the open window. He'd heard the tick and click of the bomb just as he was reaching the steps to her building having promised to meet up with her just as she was to return home from her Tai Kwon Do class. The explosion ripped through his heart as well as physically tearing his jacket to shreds. He hadn't even bothered to change into his superhero persona, just sped through the window only to be immediately assaulted when the device exploded before he could get to her.

He strode through the debris and the dust cloud activating his hearing and vision. A faint beating and laboured breathing directed him out of the blast hole which had once been her door. "Lois," he called again in panic. A quick breath from his steel lungs dissipated the dust in the corridor and revealed a mangled door collapsed against the far corridor wall and a leg showing from underneath.

"Lois, no," he shouted and one stride had him in place to bend down and grab the door. It was lifted in one smooth move and pitched away. Clark knelt down and reached out with his hand. His fingers traced her cheek. "Lois." Now his voice was quiet ... tentative.

She moaned and attempted to move.

"No, Lois. Stay still." He activated his x-ray vision and checked for broken bones and internal bleeding. The relief, when he found none, was total. "I'll get you to the hospital. Hold on."

***

Clark was willing to share his secret with me that night. His concern for my safety was greater than his fear of discovery. But I never opened my eyes. I had no idea that he'd flown me to Met Gen in his tattered suit and tie. Thankfully no-one else knew either. He wasn't noticed landing and when he strode into the lobby carrying me in his tattered jacket it just looked like he had also been involved in the explosion.

When I was released from hospital, with a minor concussion, multiple sprains and major bruising, Clark took me to his place to watch over me. He tended to my sprains and bruises, kept checking the dilation of my eyes and brought me chicken soup. I loved it; being the centre of his attention. And it was good attention.

Of course, after a day I got cabin fever and started to grouch at him. When he wouldn't let me out of his bed I exploded in a rage. Clark just reassured me of his concern, and now that he'd seen my energy levels -- evidenced by my tantrum -- he was happy for me to return to work.

As my apartment was reconstructed and redecorated we worked on solving the mystery of the bomber. We discovered that, unfortunately for the bomber, yet fortunate for myself, the timer hadn't counted down its ten second wait giving me a chance to get into the apartment, it had just exploded immediately. The door shielded me from the blast but threw me against the corridor wall and pinned me there. The culprit was also caught and jailed on the very same day as my apartment was habitable once more.

I felt a little sad to return home, in fact, home was now an apartment on Clinton Ave. As I approached the Supervisor something pulled at me most drastically ... yet I steadfastly pushed it aside.

But I was refused entry. The Supervisor told me I was a danger to the block and my tenancy had been terminated. I had some choice words to say, I can tell you. Thankfully Clark was by my side, ready to help me move back in. Instead he took my arms in his hands and calmed me down then proceeded to open his heart and his life to me, saying that I could stay with him as long as it took to find another apartment.

I never left.

I hadn't intended it that way. I really hadn't. I just never found anywhere, then gradually stopped looking. Clark never once asked me how my apartment hunting was going. I thought that strange; that such a great friend would not to be interested in something so important. Looking back now I can see exactly why he never asked.

After a few weeks Clark bought a pull out sofa bed and seemed to formalise the idea that I got the bedroom and he got the couch. At least it was a proper bed for him seeing as this arrangement seemed to be going long term.

After a few months we recorded an answer machine message together. This too was only supposed to be temporary. We've never changed it.

***

"Hi this is Clark and Lois. We're not able to answer your call at the moment. But we'll call you back as soon as we are able."

"Clark, that is so ... " Lois couldn't think of the appropriate word, which wasn't good considering words were an important part of her career.

"Cool, awesome, exciting," Clark offered with a grin.

"Dumb," she dead-panned.

"Well then, you do better, Miss Four Kerth Awards."

"I shall." She paused and tapped her finger on her mouth as she considered her attempt. "All right. Set it recording," she nodded to the machine and Clark pushed the button.

"This is Lois and Clark, also known as the Daily Planet's best reporting team: Lane and Kent. Leave your message and we'll get back to you if it's important enough."

"Lois! You can't say that. Not all of our calls will be work related. Not to mention it being rude." Clark frowned and gestured.

"Grrrr," she mumbled. "Ok, one last shot then." Clark deleted the last message and then pressed record once more. "Hi, this is the home of Lois and Clark. We're sorry we can't take your call but if you leave a message someone will get back to you when he can."

Clark clicked off the recording and Lois nodded to him. "So, how was that?"

"Better." He grinned, remembering her refer to the apartment as their 'home'. But then his smile dropped when they listened back to it and Clark realised that the 'someone' that would get back to everyone was him. Lois was never one to do the menial tasks in their partnership. He smiled again and shook his head letting out a breath that was half sigh, half laugh.

***

Yes, I really should have noticed then. I mean, I called the apartment our home: mine and Clark's. But in my defence, we were close friends and everything had flowed just naturally. It's not like I 'suddenly' moved in.

So, if I can be forgiven for missing it at that point, how come I never saw it when we took our first vacation ... together?

***

"You ready Clark? We need to be leaving soon or we won't make check in time." Lois called out to Clark, still packing in the bedroom. She thought it strange that the always prepared, boy scout, farm boy still left far too many things to the last minute. She actually suspected him of being one of those 'night before the exam' studiers. Still it worked for him, and he never seemed to be late for anything. At least, not without a specific reason. His lateness was never 'laziness'.

"All right, all right. I'm done now, Lois." He emerged with his bag in hand, grin lighting up his face. "Plus, you know ... us being late ... it's not really possible."

"Hmm," she sniffed. "I guess not. But that's no excuse. Let's get a move on, farm boy."

"Yes, ma'am," he saluted and picked up her bags in his other hand. He was about to climb the stairs to the door when Lois placed a palm on his chest, preventing him from moving any further.

"Just ... to be absolutely sure, Clark. This is a quaint country inn ... roaring fire, authentic Scottish accents from the staff, breakfast ..." She widened her eyes in question. Clark didn't know what to say in reply. He shrugged and nodded. "The uh ... breakfast is not gonna be porridge, is it, Kent?" Her eyes narrowed in accusation.

Clark let out a laugh and dropped his head to his chest for a moment. "No, Lois. I'm sure there will be traditional American food available too."

She pursed her lips. "There better be. If there's one thing I can't stand eating, it's porridge. I mean, what sort of impression is it supposed to give guests? Sloppy, water, bland oats. It's as if they found the plainest food they could, and then made it plainer. You know, I think there should be a ban on all porridge. I might even look into if there is a medically proven reason to avoid the stuff. It could make an article. You know, wake up the whole Scottish population to the dangers inherent in their morning repast." She took a quick breath and was about to continue when she saw the heaving chest of her partner. "What?" she demanded to know.

"I'm sorry, Lois, but ..." he stifled any further laughter, but his mouth was unable to keep from showing his mirth. "Did you hear yourself? You're trying to take away one of their basic traditions and most popular foods. And the English are more likely to use the phrase 'morning repast' than the Scots."

"Stop editing me, Clark. You do that enough at work. When we're at home I should be free to say whatever I want." Clark's grin grew even wider and he glanced over at Lois through lowered lashes. "What now?" she queried.

"It's just ... you referred to this place as home again."

Her anger dissipated immediately and a smile appeared on her face. "I guess I did." She glanced down to the floor and reached up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. "Well, it is. And if we don't get going on our vacation I won't be able to look forward to coming back 'home'."

***

It was a wonderful vacation. Just perfect. And Clark was the perfect friend and companion, as always. He was full of interesting facts about the local area, the ancient Celtic stories, the origin of clan tartans. I pretended to find it all boring; teasing him, but it was quite fascinating. I loved that weekend. I often find myself thinking about it, wondering if he'll arrange a surprise weekend back there. Of course, we wouldn't have two rooms on this visit.

I suppose the next clue that I missed was the biggest so far. The bed. And who slept in it.

***

"No, no. Don't." Lois thrashed around in the covers, reaching for something desperately. Something that was being taken from her. "Stop," she called out. Clark began to rouse from his sleep on the pull out couch, Lois' mumbled distress breaking into his consciousness. "Help!" came another cry. Clark pushed back his covers and slipped quietly into the bedroom.

"Lois, honey, shh. It's all right. I'm here." Clark knew she was asleep. He'd never have dared to call her honey otherwise, but somehow it always soothed her when she was in this semi-conscious state. He hoped that was a good psychological sign. Her mumbled screams calmed a little and he sat himself down on the mattress and reached to comfort her. His hand on her shoulder gently kept her from thrashing. He stretched out his other hand and stroked across her cheek. "Lois, I'm here now. Everything is fine."

An almighty scream suddenly ripped from her mouth and she bolted straight up, eyes wide open. Clark jumped back and then quickly returned, grasping her arms gently.

"Lois? Lois are you awake? Are you all right?" She had never screamed like that before, and most definitely not once he had turned up to be close by. She turned her head and her black eyes met his. "Lois," he tentatively spoke.

"Clark?" she mumbled and then blinked, her eyes coming gradually to life. "Clark. Oh Clark, it was awful. They were taking you away. And then they chained me up, but I had to watch as they ... as they ..." her face crumbled and her lips trembled. He reached out and enfolded her in his arms. They rocked silently on the bed for a while then Lois tried to pull away. "It's fine. I'm okay now Clark." She looked up to him, her mouth still quivering. When Clark saw the tears building in the corner of her eyes, almost ready to spill and the bobbing of her throat as she swallowed he knew that she was trying to be brave. But that was not necessary. That was his job. Clark would be brave enough for the both of them.

"Is this because of what we found today?" She flicked her gaze away and then nodded. "The nightmares have been bad since The Prankster took you last week. Since he tied you up." She nodded once more. "But tonight ..."

"It was the files we found. The government files about ... Superman. And the chunk of ... you know." She didn't want to look him in the eyes.

"Lois." He put his hand to her chin and applied gentle pressure to bring her back. "Lois. There's nothing to worry about." He smiled at her, trying to portray all his confidence in his face.

"Yes there is," she whimpered and Clark sighed, gathering her into his arms again. "Stay with me," she whispered. "Just hold me until morning. You can keep the nightmares away Clark." He nodded into her shoulder, not trusting his voice.

***

And, as before, with all the other changes that should have been large sign posts to me, this also became permanent. Clark slept every night in the bed with me. It just seemed so natural to get ready for bed separately; one using the bathroom while the other dressed, and then climb in together. The pull out bed was never pulled out again.

Now ...

Now we come to the final clue. To the moment when everything fell into place. To the revelation that rocked me to the core. To the screaming, blinking, fanfare of a glowing neon sign that finally made me look around at the apartment I lived in, at the man I lived with, at the life I'd fallen into without even realising.

***

"Lois?" Clark's voice came tentatively across the table.

"Yes," she replied as she spooned some more of her dessert into her waiting mouth.

"I had a really nice time tonight."

Lois paused with the spoon half way out of her lips and looked up at Clark. Swallowing as she removed the spoon she spoke. "Are you angling for a compliment Kent, because this is no different to most of our meals together at home?"

"No," he looked away embarrassed. "I just wanted to make tonight special."

"Oh," Lois nibbled her lips and dropped her spoon into the bowl. "Well, you have, Clark. The meal was wonderful, as always. I noticed the more relaxed atmosphere with the lights and music. And this dessert is to die for." She moaned and picked up her spoon again.

"Well it is Death by Chocolate, so I guess you could be right Lois." He grinned.

"So, what's the occasion? Why did you want tonight to be special?" She peered over, curious. Clark's face dropped. "Oh. Oh no. I've forgotten something, haven't I. What? What did I forget? It's not your birthday. That's still two months off. And I certainly know it's not mine. Were we celebrating something. Um, cracking the Stewart case? No, that's not it."

"Our anniversary," he mumbled hardly loud enough for her to hear. She stopped her babbling and dropped her spoon once more.

"Our anniversary!" Lois whispered. Her mouth dropped open in shock as she realised that it was two years since she'd moved in. Two years since the bombing of her apartment. "Oh my. I can't believe it's been so long. Goodness, Clark. I've been here for two years." She controlled her shock and returned to normal. "How have you managed to put up with me?" she teased.

"With great difficulty," he projected back, a superior tone in his face. "In fact I think I should apply to the Pope to be Sainted."

"Can they make some who is still alive into a Saint?" Lois continued with the banter.

"Oh well," Clark sighed dramatically. "I guess I will just have to continue this humble and sacrificial life all the way up until my inevitable death and hope for recognition at that time."

"Hmm, I do think you probably also have to be a Roman Catholic."

Clark dropped his pious look and grinned over at Lois. "You know. These last two years have been the best of my life. Working at the Planet with you, Jimmy and Perry. Growing closer. Gaining a best friend." He paused and took a deep breath. "Living with you." Lois smiled and she felt her cheeks redden.

"They've been great for me too, Clark. I've never had a best friend before, but you fit the position perfectly."

Clark seemed to let out a breath and his shoulders relaxed. "I'm glad you feel that way Lois because ... I've been thinking about our ... arrangement here."

"Yes?" She frowned. A feeling of foreboding came over her. Clark was about to do ... or say ... something, and it was going to be huge, going to affect their lives from this day forward. Somehow she knew, and fear clamped round her heart.

"I wanted to ... I was hoping that we could ..." He paused and coughed. "Lois, I want to tell you ... you see I've been ... oh bother, this is not going well at all."

"Clark, what is it?" Her heart was beating rapidly now. Clark's obvious nervousness was especially worrying.

"I want to change our arrangement."

"What?" Lois almost jumped out of her chair. He couldn't change it. She couldn't live any other way now. This was life. Here ... with Clark.

"Well, actually, I don't want to change it, I just want to ... formalise it."

Lois crinkled her brow. "I don't understand." When Clark began to fidget again, stumbling over his words, not managing a complete phrase never mind a full sentence, she called out. "Oh for heaven's sake, Clark. What is it?"

He took a deep breath in at her outburst, stood and then stepped to the side. Their cosy table for two was now no longer between them. Lois turned ever so slightly to stay facing him. He knelt on the floor in front of her and then reached into his pocket.

"Lois, we have lived together for two years. We spend all our time together, we vacation together. We even sleep in the same bed together. You know everything there is to know about me. Well, everything except my biggest secret and I'll let you in on that in just a moment." He paused and breathed again. "We are practically married. The only thing missing is the license. And so ... I think we should rectify that." Lois stared in shock as Clark opened his hand to reveal a small square box on his palm. He reached out and flipped open the top. "Lois Lane ... will you marry me?"

Utter astonishment rippled through Lois's body giving her a feeling of floating in a sea of mist. The only thing she could grab onto was the comment about a secret. "Wha ... what's your biggest secret, Clark?" she asked in a far off, disconnected voice.

"I ... Lois, I'm in love with you."

She blinked and the fuzziness of the world around vanished. Clark came into crystal clear vision in front of her. He was on his knees holding out the most exquisite, yet simple solitaire diamond ring and suddenly all of the last three years came into true focus. Lois recalled the time when they were just partners, then friends, then room-mates, then bed-mates in quick succession. Everything made sense. Everything fit perfectly and she knew her answer.

"Yes. Yes, Clark. I will marry you."

***

And there it was. It's pretty obvious that Clark did know, way before I did, that we'd become a married couple, all except for the licence. Well, 'what about the intimate relationship' I hear you say. Surely that was also missing. Intimate relationships don't make a marriage, in fact these days, they happen more often outside the marriage. But of course, once I realised my love for Clark, those ... intimate times ... soon followed.

You know, I've lost count of the times over the years that people have said, "I was sure you were already married, or at least together but wanting to hide it." It makes me wonder what was the sign post for them. Was it the friendship, or when I moved in and never left? Maybe it was the answering machine message where I call Clark's apartment 'my' home. Perhaps it was when we began to vacation together.

I don't think anyone could know about the sleeping arrangements, but ... who's to say?

All I can say is ... at least I'm oblivious no longer. I know where I stand with Clark ... and it's right by his side.

Oh. I forgot to mention Superman. When did I discover that little secret? It's not actually important to the story, but you don't really think he managed to keep it more than a few days once I was living in his apartment, do you? How did I find out? I'm not telling, but I'll just leave you with this thought.

Why would a guy with lovely, fluffy, bouncy, thick hair need shiny, slick hair gel in his medicine cabinet? And why would he use up a tub a week?

THE END

The following story –

“Snowy Secrets”

by – Mozartmaid

was Nominated in the:

Best Mid-length Story,

Best Revelation,

and

Best Overall Story

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Snowy Secrets

By Mozartmaid <mozartmaid@gmail.com>

Rated PG

Submitted October 2013

Summary: Lois and Clark are in Smallville on assignment during a Christmas snowstorm... so is Trask, looking for Superman!

Thanks as always to my betas, KenJ and Female Hawk!

Takes place Season 1. Some dialogue taken from "The Green, Green Glow of Home," written by Bryce Zabel and "We have a lot to talk about," written by John McNamara

***

"I can't believe I let Perry convince me there was a worthwhile story in Smallville," I muttered under my breath for probably the hundredth time since we left Metropolis.

Clark gave me a patient smile, which was just this close to smug, and I almost wanted to slap it right off his face. "Lois, you know that Perry asked you if you'd rather stay in Metropolis for Christmas... you had the chance to back out."

He was right, and I bit my tongue. I supposed spending Christmas out in Smallville on a story was better than dealing with my parents. I had jumped at the chance to escape. It didn't mean I had to like it.

I grumbled as we got into the rental car, regretting my hasty decision. I wondered if we were going to have to drive far to get to Clark's parents' house. It will no doubt be in the middle of nowhere. They probably won't even have electricity!

"Lois, I can practically hear your thoughts screaming out how horrible this all is. Look, I'm sorry, but Perry sent us out here on assignment. If you loosen up just a bit, you might even have some fun. Smallville is really nice at Christmas."

I crossed my arms and glared at him. "We're here for work, not 'fun'!" I said snidely, glaring out the window.

Reluctantly I let out a sigh, knowing I wasn't being entirely fair to Clark. To be honest, I was just nervous about spending so much time with him and his family. I kept waiting for him to prove to me that he was like all the other men I've known – and especially the good-looking ones. They were usually the worst. But somehow, Clark had yet to show a sign that he's really one of those guys... and maybe that's what scared me more.

"So, how far is it to your parents' place?" I asked a few minutes later, in an attempt at civility. I had been pretty close to being a raving banshee up to now and was starting to feel guilty. I didn't want Clark's parents to think I was a stuck-up city girl.

"Less than an hour. Just sit back and enjoy the ride, Lois. Feel free to turn on the radio, if you want."

Did he have to be so accommodating all the time? Didn't the man have any flaws?

I knew that I was full of them... and being mean to Clark for no reason was definitely one of them.

I flipped on the radio... *"I need a hero... He's got to be strong and he's got to be fast and he's got to..."* I switched the dial... *"...shaping up, could hit the Smallville area by late tonight or early tomorrow morning. Expect 6-8 inches."*

"Of *snow*? I blurted. "Great. I'll be stuck in Nowheresville for a month," I grumbled, forgetting my earlier pledge to try to be more pleasant.

I glanced at Clark and could see a slight smile playing on his lips. "It probably won't be that bad, Lois. We usually don't get the really bad storms until January or February. I don't think you need to worry."

"Well, just in case, maybe we should stop and get some supplies. Is there a Cost-mart between here and your folks'?" I asked hopefully. Surely, we weren't that far removed from civilization!

"No, there's not a Cost-mart in Smallville... However, we can stop downtown if you want. It's on the way."

***

Clark was so patient that it was galling. Most men hated shopping in all its forms. But he just waited for me at the checkout, making small talk with the shop owner, who apparently Clark knew personally.

Small towns make me nervous. I feel too conspicuous. Give me the anonymity of a big city any day. Here, I can't imagine having people wanting to know about every facet of my life. Or the gossip that inevitably emerges if I decide to wear sweats to go grocery shopping. Even though I spend my life learning about the news of the day and digging into people's business, I don't like the idea of people digging into mine. Call me a hypocrite, but that is just the way I feel.

Eventually, I laid my survival kit on the checkout belt. Everything from ice cream to cereal. All stuff I could manage preparing on my own if I had to.

"My mom will probably have plenty of food for us, Lois," Clark commented, obviously trying to sound diplomatic about my choices.

"I don't want your parents feeling obligated to take care of me. And be sure to tell them the Planet will reimburse them for any added expense I'll cause," I said magnanimously.

"Lois, my parents are happy to have you," he said in that soothing voice of his, the one that I sometimes could feel to my toes and often made me want to be mean to him -- mean because I was terrified of how his voice pleasantly affected me.

I moved past him to the cashier, his chest suddenly like a wall that was blocking me. I didn't look at him as I brushed past, feeling my cheeks flush red at the close contact. "I just want to be sure I'm contributing," I said, waiting to see the total. "Oh, Clark! Batteries! I almost forgot! Would you mind grabbing me a pack? I'd hate to be stuck in a farmhouse with a foot of snow and no batteries."

***

"I can't believe all that food only cost $18! You could never get away with those prices in Metropolis," I said, eying my receipt appreciatively as we made our way back to the car.

Clark instantly took over and helped put the bags in the trunk. He was doing it again -- being a nice guy. I got that jumpy feeling, that I should insult him or make a joke, or find some way to distance myself from how he made me feel. But instead I got in the passenger seat and surreptitiously watched him in the rearview mirror.

Actually, all I could see was the expanse of his wide shoulders as he moved bags around, but the rippling of his muscles was oddly fascinating. He's always so... mild-mannered. I forgot how in-shape he was sometimes... Though there was that one time, when he had first moved to Metropolis and was living at the Hotel Apollo. I had caught him just as he had come out of the shower in a towel... Now that--

Clark climbed back in the car, which was a good thing, because my thoughts had been moving into dangerous territory.

"So, why do you think the government is involved in small town pesticides, huh? Perry wouldn't have sent us out here if he didn't think it was for a good reason," I rambled, thinking that talking about work was safer than letting my mind wander.

"I don't know, Lois. But we'll find out."

***

Eventually we pulled into a long driveway, literally in the middle of a cornfield. I had never felt so out of my element before.

I got out of the car and headed to the trunk to help bring in the groceries, but Clark was already unloading them. "Don't worry, Lois. I've got it. My parents are eager to meet you."

No sooner had he said that, than they appeared on the front porch.

"Clark!" called a diminutive woman, who I assumed was his mother. She was wearing an apron, and as we approached the house, I could smell a delicious home cooked meal being prepared inside. I felt a little ashamed about my pathetic contributions to the pantry, seeing that the Kents were indeed prepared to feed me as well.

"You must be Lois," she gushed as she came closer. I reached to shake her hand, but she pulled me down for a hug. "Nonsense! We hug around here. Clark has told us so much about you!"

He had, had he? I glanced at him, but I couldn't see his eyes as the porch light was reflected off his glasses.

"Here, Clark, let me help you," his mom offered, and I suddenly felt totally out of place, not carrying anything but my purse.

"Can I take something?" I asked, but they both told me not to worry.

I walked up the porch and into the house, immediately struck by how settled in and homey their farmhouse felt. I could already see they were so different from my family -- who were divorced and living in multiple homes. I felt a slight tightening in my throat, looking around, seeing family photos and evidence of a loving home all around. An afghan that Mrs. Kent had probably made lay on the sofa. Clark's high school football trophies lined the mantle. A picture of a fishing trip with Mr. Kent and

Clark sat perched on a bookshelf.

They had even put up a Christmas tree, blending into the country hominess of the place. It wasn't very big, but it filled the room with warmth and light, and I could see the ornaments were a hodgepodge collected over the years, each obviously tied to a pleasant holiday memory.

I suddenly felt so small and unworthy. I was always so petty and even mean to Clark, thinking that he had ulterior motives whenever he was nice to me. But I was beginning to see that with him, maybe what you see is what you get -- just a nice guy with wonderful parents.

And that's why the guilt of how I've been treating him is now eating me alive.

***

The Kents warmly welcomed me into their home.

I felt more like a friend or even girlfriend of Clark's than his work partner, and I secretly admitted to myself that it wasn't such a bad feeling.

Over dinner, we chatted about Clark growing up on the farm, and I said as little as possible about my own dysfunctional family. I laughed at their stories, and every now and then would catch Clark watching me, as if he'd never seen me before. I guess I hadn't shown this side of myself so much when we were at work. I was always constantly on my guard and hunting down the next story.

Sitting around the Kent kitchen table, I felt the protective wall I had built up around myself start to crack, ever so slightly.

***

After dinner, Clark and his dad went out to the barn to go look at something. I stayed behind and helped Martha clean up the dishes.

"Thank you for dinner," I said sincerely, not used to people doing such nice things for me. "That was really wonderful. Though you didn't have to go through all that trouble."

"Nonsense! We are happy to have you here. You don't have to help clean up either. If you're tired you can go straight upstairs--"

"No, please. Let me help clean up. It's the least I can do," I said, gamely reaching for a sponge and turning on the water. I was used to using a dishwasher, but I really was grateful and wanted to help.

"Martha!" I heard coming from outside. It sounded like Mr. Kent, and he sounded like it was urgent.

"I'll be right back. Don't worry. It's probably just the cow's water bucket got knocked over again," she said with a smile, quickly moving out the back door.

I continued to wash the dishes, but I was instantly intrigued by what was happening out back. I couldn't see anything from my vantage point, but I was close enough to the barn that if I turned off the water, maybe I could hear something.

I stopped washing the dishes and leaned over the sink towards the window. I couldn't really hear anything happening in the barn.

Eventually I saw all three Kents heading back into the house, and I immediately turned the water back on and started washing again, not wanting to appear as if I had been curious at all as to what had gone on.

"Is everything all right?" I asked as they entered the kitchen.

Martha nodded reassuringly. "Everything's fine, Lois. Just--Clark's not feeling all that well."

"Oh?" I asked.

"Yeah, um, a cold, I think," said Mr. Kent.

"Sorry to hear that, Clark," I said, though my reporter's instinct was telling me that something was off. The urgency in Mr. Kent's call earlier had seemed to warrant a much more dramatic response than just cold medicine. But I let it slide... for now.

Clark wasn't really looking at me but he said, "I think I'm just going to head to bed now. Lois, you can have my room and I'll sleep down here."

"Oh, but Clark, if you're not feeling well, wouldn't you rather sleep in your own bed?" I asked. Clark was definitely chivalrous to a fault.

He shook his head. "No, I'll be fine. I'm going to watch TV until I fall asleep. Goodnight, Lois."

"Goodnight," I said, turning off the tap as I finished the last of the dishes.

"Come, Lois. I'll show you to your room," Mrs. Kent offered.

As we headed up the stairs, I watched helplessly as a miserable Clark flopped onto the sofa. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was wallowing. But over what, I had no idea. Surely not just over a cold.

***

"Now, Jonathan and I have to leave early in the morning. He has a doctor's appointment in Wichita, but we'll be back by the afternoon," Mrs. Kent told me as she handed me a fresh stack of towels. "You just make yourself at home."

"But what about the snowstorm that's coming?"

"Don't worry about us. If it gets bad before we head back, we'll stay at a hotel. We still have two whole days before Christmas Eve. Goodnight, dear."

I watched her walk down the hall and couldn't help but feel a little trepidation. If the Kents stayed in Wichita, that would mean that Clark and I would be here alone. And while I didn't think I had anything to fear from being with Clark alone, I worried if I could handle it. I didn't want to be the bossy partner that I usually was with him at work, and I certainly didn't want to be his nursemaid if he was sick... but it was possible that being those other things... being more than a partner, and getting to know him on a deeper level that had me worried.

I quickly headed to the bathroom to change for bed and brush my teeth, contemplating being alone with Clark. We had already done a few stakeouts together, and secretly I admit that we had had a good time. But out here, in the middle of nowhere, on his home turf? I feared facing things that I had felt in passing about Clark. Things that I had always been too afraid to closely examine.

I sighed. One thing at a time. We still had a story to do. Just focus on work like you always do and everything will be fine.

I switched off the bathroom light and made my way to Clark's room. It wasn't very big, but it was cozy. There were lots of pictures of him growing up all around the room. I noticed one of him in high school, his arm wrapped around a girl. I was almost relieved to see this evidence of his womanizing past. Sure it was high school, but come on. Was anyone really as innocent as Clark pretended to be?

Eventually I climbed into bed. Unbidden thoughts hit me as I realized this is Clark's bed, and though the sheets were fresh and clean, I imagined I could smell his Clark-ness somehow on the pillow. I found it oddly comforting, as I reached to turn off the side lamp.

It didn't take me long before I drifted off to sleep.

***

I woke up, noticing how oddly quiet the house was. There was no roar of street noise, no blaring alarm. Just the calm country quiet. I found it a little unsettling. Wasn't there such thing as too much quiet?

I got out of bed and was surprised to see slippers by the bed. Had Mrs. Kent left them here for me? That made me remember her plan to go to Wichita and I immediately got up to check the weather outside. There was just a dusting of snow on the ground, and it didn't seem to even really be sticking. The Kents' truck was gone, so I assumed they'd left, but if the snow kept falling at this pace, they'd probably be back by this evening.

I was relieved, honestly, that I wouldn't be stuck alone with Clark this evening. I just thought the potential for disaster was too high... I'd either make an idiot of myself or he'd get on my nerves. Having the Kents here would be a nice buffer.

I slung on my robe and bounded happily down the stairs. I glanced at the sofa, but Clark was up and about, so I guess he wasn't that sick. The smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee reached my nose and I immediately headed to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Lois. Would you like some breakfast?" Clark asked, wearing one of his mom's floral aprons around his waist over his sweatpants and a t-shirt. My eyes went helplessly to his biceps as he flipped the bacon, and I was distressed by how comforting I found his display of masculine domesticity.

"Clark Kent can cook?" I teased, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Well, that must be the biggest well-kept secret of the year!"

He gave me a look, his mouth slightly gaping like a guppy, and I laughed. "What? What did I say?"

"Nothing," he answered, pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose as he turned back to the frying pan. A few seconds later, he brought me a plate. "I'll get you some coffee, too. How did you sleep?" he asked, reaching for a mug.

I hadn't realized it until he asked me, but I had slept really well. Nothing had woken me during the night. In Metropolis, I usually get out of bed at least once to go to the bathroom. But here, I hadn't stirred all night.

"Um, not bad. You?" I hedged, taking the mug of coffee he had fixed for me.

"Yeah. Not bad. I always sleep pretty well at my folks'."

"Are you feeling better this morning?"

Clark put salt and pepper on the table and then fixed his plate before sitting down across from me. "Uh, yeah, sort of. But... definitely not back to normal yet."

He seemed to be acting like the tough guy who hates getting sick, and I snickered. "Clark, it's okay if you aren't feeling well. Everyone gets sick," I said, thinking I was being very generous.

"Yeah, I suppose," he said glumly, his fork meandering through his scrambled eggs.

I rolled my eyes. Men could be such babies.

"So, what should we do to look into this pesticide thing?" I asked, noticing Clark had also set out toast, butter, and what looked like homemade strawberry jam. I could get used to eating like this...

"Well, we should definitely get an early start. The snow is light on the ground now, but I think we should be home by early afternoon, just in case it picks up."

I glanced outside. The dusting on the ground seemed very non-threatening. "I think the forecaster overstated his case. There is barely anything going on out there."

"Lois, trust me. We'll go see my friend Rachel Harris, and then do some research back here, before the weather gets bad. She's already putting together the pesticide history of the last ten years for us to go through, to have something to compare this to."

"Papers on pesticides? Be still my heart," I grumbled. "Can we at least stop at the video store? If we do end up holed up here tonight, I want to have something to do."

"Well, my parents already arranged to stay in Wichita. Dad couldn't delay his appointment. He'd been trying to arrange to meet with this cardiologist for months... but we'll be all right. We have a whole wall of board games," he grinned at me. "And I'd like a rematch."

"You're on, buster. If we have to pore over pesticide reports, then the least you can do is lose yet another game to me."

***

Rachel Harris immediately got on my nerves.

She simply gushed all over Clark, and it didn't help that I recognized her from the photo I had seen in Clark's room the previous night. Apparently, they had dated. Albeit a long time ago, but still. She had had her chance, and it was time for her to move on!

It didn't help that Clark was his usual charming self with her. He would laugh self-deprecatingly at her mention of old memories and flash his megawatt smiles at her that for some reason, I had believed he had reserved for me.

It made me feel very petty and perhaps just a little bit jealous. But why? I had done all I could to distance myself from Clark. He was the hack from Nowheresville, and I was the seasoned reporter. He was Mr. Green Jeans, and I was Top Banana. Now why all a sudden did I feel just a bit irritated that someone else should be privy to his charm and good humor?

It didn't make any sense, and it just made me feel grumpier as we left the sheriff's office where Rachel worked.

Add to that, we now had a stack of files a mile high to dig through -- on pesticides, no less!

"I knew that coming out to Smallville would be a waste of time. I mean, pesticide reports? Really?" I groused as we got in the car.

"We need all the background research we can get. It was really generous of Rachel to give them to us. They usually aren't readily available to the public."

"Who is this Rachel Harris to you anyway?" I asked, and then immediately blanched, realizing how I had sounded.

Clark flashed me a smug look, enjoying that he had caught me out. "Is someone jealous?" he teased.

I crossed my arms and then angrily reached for my seatbelt. "No, of course not! Why should I be? I just never heard of her before today, that's all. And I saw an old picture of the two of you in your room and I--I--just wondered. No big deal."

Oh, God. Could he see my cheeks flush red? I did a quick glance in the mirror and indeed could see a red stain on my cheeks. Damn my fair skin.

"No big deal," he echoed, still apparently enjoying my discomfiture. I wanted to slap him. After a moment, he conceded. "Rachel and I did date -- but it was a long time ago. We're just good friends now," he admitted. Then when I didn't respond, "Happy now?"

"I told you, I don't care. Why would I care about your love life, Clark? Past or present!"

I stared glumly outside, noticing the sky was starting to darken, much like my mood. I felt trapped, and I couldn't explain why. I was jumpy and nervous and agitated, and I didn't want to be any of those things. Seeing Clark flirt with someone else had upset me, and I was afraid to look at the reasons why. Maybe I was a little jealous, though I certainly wouldn't admit it to Clark. And now, as snow started falling, I started feeling jittery at the thought of spending the night alone with him.

Another shot of fear went through me. What if this got back to the newsroom? It would be like Claude all over again, and I'd be humiliated, even if nothing happened between us. I'd never live it down that I had spent the night with Clark Kent, one way or the other. Either I would be thought of as a slut, or an ice queen for not giving in.

We were heading towards the edge of town, and there was still another five miles or so before we got to the farm. I was tempted to ask Clark to drop me at a hotel. But I quickly thought through the implications of that, and Perry would be angry if I expensed it, especially when we had a perfectly good offer at the Kents'. Besides, at Christmas, even nowhere Smallville likely had all the local hotels already booked.

The edge of the town passed us by, and there was nothing but rows of cornfields for miles. Snow was starting to fall heavier, and with a sigh, I realized I was stuck.

***

I was quiet all the rest of the way back to the farmhouse, uncomfortable with the prospect of facing Clark and snow all alone. Yet this *was* Clark we were talking about. I knew he wouldn't maul me in the hallway, and yet a part of me sort of wanted something to happen between us. And maybe that's why I was scared. I really liked Clark, and despite how I've treated him, I thought that to some extent, he liked me too.

We were definitely friends, and yet I remembered when he first came to the Planet, and we were up late one night eating Chinese, he had looked at me like he may have been interested in more. I had doused that fire even before it had started, and now—what did I want?

I sighed, starting to daydream. Superman... that's who I wanted. My heart was ready and available for him. But even I knew Superman was in some ways the easier choice. The ideal man was always easy to love... but Clark?

I swallowed something uncomfortable in my throat at the thought. Could I ever love Clark?

"Well, we're here. Just in time, too. It's really starting to pick up," he said, jostling me out of my daydream.

I fought the urge to say something biting, realizing suddenly that I didn't want to be crabby old Lois anymore. Seeing him flirt with Rachel Harris today had made me sit up and look at something I hadn't wanted to admit. I really liked Clark. And suddenly, I really wanted him to like me, too.

***

We went inside and I immediately headed to the sofa with the pile of pesticide reports. "The sooner we get through these, the sooner I can beat you at Monopoly!" I said playfully.

"Don't get too smug, Lois. I played with my dad last time I was here, and he showed me a trick or two... I'll just brew us up some coffee and we'll get to work, okay?" Clark said pleasantly as he headed into the kitchen.

I nodded, glancing out the window at the snow. Was I so naïve this morning not to think that maybe the forecast was just off on timing? It certainly looked like it would be a six-inch snowstorm or better... Even though it was only around four o'clock, the clouds outside made it seem much later. I reached over to turn on a lamp and switched on the TV to catch the headlines.

*"...flights cancelled in and out of Wichita. This storm will affect most of the area overnight. Expect school closings in the morning..."*

"Well, it's going to be hard doing much investigating in this," I groused, just as Clark came in the room carrying a cup of coffee for me. I reached out and took it, immediately taking a sip. I smiled because it was fixed exactly how I like it. "Thanks, Clark."

He grinned down at me. "Did Lois Lane just thank me for something?" he teased, though I was a little hurt. Do I really treat him that badly?

He sat down next to me, and I hit his arm playfully. "Stop it, Clark. I thank you all the time," I said, though I realized with a shock that I was lying. I couldn't think of the last time I had thanked him for anything.

"I know. I'm just teasing," he said lightly, taking a seat next to me on the sofa. "So? Any news? Is the world about to fall apart with you out of Metropolis?"

"Very funny. No, just checking the weather. It looks like it will get worse overnight. Your folks could have made it back, but I guess it's too late now, huh?" I said, glancing at him, surprised by the sudden feeling of butterflies in my stomach. I had spent many nights alone with Clark, doing stakeouts. This somehow seemed... different. More intimate perhaps... I tried to hone in on why I was feeling so uncomfortable about it, as I stared into my coffee, and Clark continued to speak.

"Yeah. Mom left a message on the answering machine that they had already found a hotel."

It felt very cozy, sitting there with Clark and our coffees on the sofa. His parents' sofa was definitely more comfortable than mine.

Clark suddenly got up and started making a fire. He expertly stacked some small logs and stuffed some old newspapers in between to get the fire started.

"None of those better be any of my stories," I teased.

"Don't worry. These are just old copies of the Smallville Gazette. I send my folks' our big stories, and all of those get put in a scrapbook."

He struck a match, and suddenly the room was filled with a warm glow. It only added to the intimate feeling of the evening, which made me immediately decide that we should get to work. I split the stack of reports and sat half of them by his side. "Okay, so what should we look for? Anomalies?"

"Locations. Just see if they've ever had a problem on or nearby the Irig's farm before," he said, lighting the fireplace. It didn't take him long to get it roaring, and he quickly settled into scanning the files. He handed me a slip of paper. "Check for these addresses. They are all in the vicinity of where they are investigating."

"Well, whatever it is they're doing, they surely aren't getting anything done tonight. Not with this weather," I said, glancing at the window.

I muted the TV, but left it on in case any interesting news came on while we worked. Clark turned on the radio and we got to work while cheesy Christmas carols played on in the background. Despite the rocky start to our partnership, I really liked working with Clark. I had made a big show about him being a naïve farm boy and not at all cut out for reporting, though honestly, he's proven to be quite good at it. And secretly, I admit to enjoying the work we do together. Our work habits were similar, and we'd often make lists and exchange them, comparing notes and ideas. Some of our best work came about when we bounced ideas off each other, and to be honest, it was only in the throes of work that I would sometimes let my guard down and forget to be mean to Clark.

About an hour and a half later, I knew the detailed history of pesticides in Smallville, but we were no closer to detecting why the government had suddenly gotten involved on Irig's property.

I sighed and got up off the sofa to check the snow. The sun was gone, and there was nothing but a white blanket outside.

"I wonder how much snow has fallen?" I asked, glancing at Clark who was just setting aside his pile, looking as bored as I felt.

"I don't know. Let's have a look." Intrigued, I followed him to the front door. He pulled a yardstick out of the closet and stepped out on the front porch. "It's more accurate than waiting for them to tell you on TV," he said, dipping the stick in the snow just off the porch. "I'd say four inches. But it doesn't look like it will stop any time soon. Good thing we have plenty of supplies," he grinned at me.

"Hey, I just picked up things I needed," I said defensively, heading back inside to where it was warm. The wind was starting to pick up as well.

"I'll make us some fettuccine, and then, I want a Monopoly rematch!"

"You're on!" I laughed, following him into the kitchen. I leaned on the doorframe, watching him. "I guess you're feeling better?"

He turned to look at me, with that strange deer-in-headlights look he gets sometimes and then answered me. "Yeah, a little bit... I hope I'm back to normal by tomorrow though."

"Well, like I said, we aren't likely to get much investigating done tomorrow until the weather clears up... How long does it usually take until they get out here to plow your road?" I asked, and by Clark's look, I was a little afraid of the answer.

"Usually no more than two days--"

"Two days?!" I protested. "I thought we'd be out of here by then, have this story all sewn up! There's real journalism to be had in Metropolis that I'm missing!"

"Lois, calm down. Actually, it might be longer, since we're two days away from Christmas Eve... Think of it as -- a much-deserved vacation. Come on, I promise... it'll be fun."

***

An hour later, we were sitting on the floor in the living room playing Monopoly. Clark was losing big, but he was taking it well.

"Go to jail!" I cried gleefully, as he had another bum turn.

The wind was howling outside, and it momentarily distracted me from our game. Suddenly, there was a loud crack and the electricity went out.

I heard Clark sigh. "Great. Sounds like the transformer blew. We won't be able to get it fixed until they clear the snow first... But sit tight. I had stacked some extra wood earlier, just in case we'd need it. There's a huge pile on the porch. I'll be right back."

I saw the shadow of him move past me. It was suddenly feeling chillier in the room, and I reached for the blanket that had been slung on the sofa and wrapped it around my shoulders.

I waited in the dark silence until Clark returned with a pile of extra wood. I reached my hands out towards the dwindling fire, as they had already begun to feel cold. He added a log onto the fire, creating a much needed explosion of warmth in the room. "Man, I wish I had bought some marshmallows."

Clark grinned at me and then disappeared into the kitchen. He came back a moment later with skewers and a bag of Stay-Puffed marshmallows.

I giggled like a kid. "My hero," I said, greedily reaching for a skewer. "I haven't roasted marshmallows in ages."

We sat for a few minutes in companionable silence, cooking our marshmallows. I knew we probably should be working, brainstorming what could have the government interested in Smallville. But truth be told, Clark was right. I did sort of need a little vacation, and this was as good an excuse as any.

I glanced over at Clark. His glasses were mirrored reflections of the fire, so I couldn't really see his eyes, but I wondered what he was thinking about. I'm usually so focused on a story or avoiding any kind of intimacy with Clark at all costs, that I sometimes forget how to relate to other people on a personal level. I felt like an idiot for not asking about the doctor's appointment that his parents' had gone all the way to Wichita for.

"So, how's your dad?" I asked shyly, trying to make up for not saying something earlier. "You said he had to go to this cardiologist in Wichita?"

"Yeah... he has high blood pressure and cholesterol. Mom keeps telling him to eat more Cheerios, but when you work on a farm, you need more energy. So he eats bacon and eggs every day."

"Every day? Well it's no wonder--" I realized I was about to criticize Clark's dad, and I thought better of it, laying a reassuring hand on Clark's arm. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

He nodded. "Thanks, Lois."

"So, do you think we can finish the Monopoly game in this light?"

***

Several hours and several wins later, I was really getting sleepy. But the thought of crawling upstairs away from the fire was not a pleasant thought.

I yawned one too many times, and Clark finally gave in. "It's time for bed, Lois. You're exhausted. Do you want to sleep down here by the fire? Or upstairs in my -- in the bed?"

Honestly, I didn't want to sleep in either spot alone. Down here, I thought I might get scared once Clark headed upstairs, the creaking of the farmhouse not being something I was used to. And upstairs was certainly likely to be cold after hours of the heat being off... However, at least upstairs was familiar. I had slept well last night. Perhaps once I got under the covers, I'd go right to sleep.

"I'll be fine upstairs. But thanks, Clark."

He got up and handed me a flashlight, with some of the extra batteries I had bought. "Guess these will come in handy after all. Let me know if you need anything during the night, okay?" he asked, his voice low and warm.

I took the flashlight, and had the urge to give him a good night hug, but resisted. We were work colleagues, and I needed to keep that distance.

"Good night, Clark," I said as I headed up the stairs.

***

I did all I could to get warm under the covers, but it was no use. My teeth were practically chattering, and even with an extra sweatshirt and double socks, it was still too cold to sleep.

Eventually I gave up and quietly headed down the stairs, hoping the fire might be still going, but that Clark was asleep.

I glanced at the clock and saw that it was just after one in the morning. Clark had apparently banked the fire, so it would burn throughout the night, but it was much lower than when we had gone to bed. I was relieved to see that Clark looked like he was sleeping, and though I didn't want to wake him, I was desperate for some warmth. I came over to where he lay by the fire, and stretched out my hands to what remained of it, though it wasn't nearly enough to get rid of the chill from upstairs.

I pulled the blanket I had taken from the sofa earlier around my shoulders, debating what to do. I didn't want to go back upstairs to where it was really cold, yet I couldn't very well sleep on this hard floor either.

"Lois, are you okay?" I heard Clark say beside me, almost in a whisper.

I turned to him, surprised by his voice. "Did I wake you?" I asked.

"I wasn't really sleeping yet... are you cold?"

I was afraid to tell him I was, worried he would think I was hoping to get snuggly under the covers with him. Yet, body heat was the best in the cold...

I nodded.

"Here," he said, getting up to wrap his blanket around me. The blanket was warm from his body heat, and I sank into its folds.

"What about you? You were the one who wasn't feeling well."

He shrugged. "I'll be all right. See? Here's another blanket," he pointed out, reaching for a blanket I hadn't noticed that was slung over his father's armchair. He scooted over to sit next to me by the fire. "I think maybe I should start it up again, what do you say?"

"Well, we surely aren't going to be able to sleep the way it is now."

Clark got up, leaving his blanket around his shoulders almost like a cape. It made me think of Superman, and I realized that I hadn't thought of him all evening. Clark and I had had so much fun that I'd had no time to even bother worrying about if the Man of Steel even cared that I wasn't in Metropolis...

"Too bad you aren't Superman," I muttered. "Heat vision would sure come in handy right about now."

"Yeah, it would," he answered dryly with a sigh. "Guess it's the old fashioned-way for us tonight." He threw on a few more logs, shoved in some old newspapers until they caught fire from the still hot coals; Clark had the fire roaring again in no time.

Clark came to sit down next to me, and we huddled together to get warm. We sat in companionable silence by the fire, just listening to the wood crackle now and then. I yawned, and felt the tug of sleep come over me, yet I didn't want to go back upstairs to Clark's cold bedroom. My head lolled to the side, and somehow my head ended up on Clark's shoulder.

"Lois? Do you want to sleep down here?" he whispered to me. "I can go upstairs and--"

"No, it's okay, Clark. You can stay down here," I said, though I didn't really think that through.

I just hated the idea of being down here all by myself. Maybe it was the city girl in me, afraid of the stillness of the country.

"Okay, then you take the sofa, and I'll sleep here," he offered, suddenly stretching out by the fire.

"Clark. Your back will be miserable in the morning if you do that. How about we sleep on opposite ends of the sofa? It's large enough, I think."

I got up and lay down on the end closest to the fire. Clark stretched out on the other end. The sofa was long enough so that my feet reached about as far as Clark's hips and vice versa. Close enough that we'd be cozy, but not too close.

"Goodnight, Lois."

It reminded me of the night we had staked out at the honeymoon suite in the Lexor Hotel. I smiled to myself, remembering how annoyed with him I had been that night. I heard myself answering, softly, "Goodnight, Clark," before rolling onto my side to sleep.

***

A noise woke me some time later, sounding like it had come from outside.

I glanced over at Clark, and with just a low glow coming from the fire, it looked like he was sleeping. He was still wearing his glasses though, so it was hard to tell for certain. I sat up a little and nudged him. "Clark?"

"Hmm?" he murmured, probably still asleep.

"Clark," I nudged his leg with my foot again, slightly harder. "I heard something outside."

He sat up a little. "I didn't hear anything," he said, as if that ruled out all possibility that there could have been a noise.

"Clark! Go check it out -- or I will," I said, getting to my feet. I shivered. "But if I do, then I'm taking the blanket with me," I warned, making a reach for it.

Clark harrumphed, but got up. "What do you think you heard?"

"I don't know... something outside."

"Maybe it was one of the animals... sometimes the cows get loose and-"

"In the middle of a snowstorm?" I asked, incredulous. Surely any bovine creatures would want to stay tucked up in some warm hay in the barn and not stalk around outside. I knew I sure would...

"You have a point. All right. I'll check it out. You stay here," he said, although I followed a few paces behind him.

Clark grabbed a flashlight, put on a heavy winter coat, and slipped into some work boots that I assumed were his dad's. He turned to me, "Lois, stay here. It's cold outside. No need for both of us to freeze," he said, opening the back door. Feeling the wind sweep in, I reluctantly agreed, and nodded my consent.

"Just... hurry back."

He turned and smiled at me, looking beatific, especially in the light of the flashlight. "Why? Will you miss me?"

I sighed with annoyance and crossed my arms. "No... I ... just don't like the idea of sitting in this creaky dark house all by myself!"

"I'll be right back, Lois."

I ran to the sofa to grab the blanket and then ran back to watch him through the kitchen window. I don't know what I thought I heard, but I was suddenly regretting sending Clark out there all alone. He was the one who hadn't been feeling well... and even if it was some stray cow, surely it wouldn't get far in this snowstorm. I saw him walk over to the barn, a shadow against the white of the freshly fallen snow. It was dark outside, but the snow seemed to give off its own light.

Clark stepped into the barn, and then, his flashlight fell into the snowdrifts nearby the barn door. I rolled my eyes at his klutziness, waiting for him to come back out to get it, but he never came. The flashlight shone upwards out of the snow, like a lonely lighthouse.

Had something happened to Clark? I opened the screen door, pulling the edges of the blanket tighter around me against the cold. I almost called out Clark's name, when I thought I heard voices coming from the barn. Someone else was out there... and I didn't think it was a friend.

I hastily closed the door, grabbing my flashlight and looking for the kitchen phone. Calling the police would mean calling Rachel Harris, and as much as I didn't like her, I couldn't take the chance that Clark was in trouble. I didn't know if she could get out here in this weather, but I had to try something.

I found the phone, but was thrown into a panic when I realized the phones were dead! Had the storm knocked out the phone lines, or was it whoever had waylaid Clark in the barn?

Breathe, Lane. I told myself. Perhaps it was just a recalcitrant cow and Clark was just having some difficulty with it. I paced the kitchen with the flashlight off, thinking what to do. After another few minutes ticked by and Clark still hadn't emerged out of the barn, I knew I had to face the cold to see if I could help him.

I ran upstairs with the flashlight and dug into Clark's closet, looking for something warmer to put on. I grabbed a blue sweatshirt and a third pair of socks. Back downstairs, I went to the same closet Clark had got the coat and boots from, and I put on the other pair of boots, which I assumed were Martha's and grabbed one of the winter coats. I reached up for hat and gloves as well, something Clark hadn't bothered with earlier.

A prickle of fear went up my spine, as I worried that maybe Clark was in more danger than just dealing with a cow... maybe he had hurt himself. Or maybe... someone else really was out there.

Again, I shook off the notion, realizing out here in the country, that it was highly unlikely in a snowstorm, that some random criminal would be hanging out in the Kent barn. Still... I needed a weapon, just in case. I went back to the kitchen to look for something. I immediately ruled out knives, because the idea of using one in self-defense made me nervous. I needed something small enough to hide in my coat pocket, and yet strong enough to knock out any threat. Martha's rolling pin? Maybe... Feeling like I was wasting valuable time, I took it with a frustrated grunt, and slipped it inside my jacket. There was a small pocket inside, and the handle end slid in, so I could hold it against my hip nearly inconspicuously.

I decided to leave my flashlight inside, so I could sneak up on whatever was going on in the barn. I just needed to follow the light of Clark's flashlight anyway. The snow was coming down heavy again, and was a little more than halfway up my boots as I trudged across the lawn. The wind was biting, and through its whistle, I tried to hear what was going on in the barn.

Seeing that flashlight, so discarded, gave me an ominous sense of foreboding. There had to be something serious going on in the barn for him not to have retrieved the flashlight already, especially how weird he was about saving discarded objects. I remember when I had thrown out a pen, and he had given me some grand lecture about our throwaway society. No, there was definitely something amiss, and I would find out what it was.

As I neared the barn, I resisted the urge to call out Clark's name, hearing something of a scuffle going on inside. As I edged to the barn door, I thought I heard a punch make contact with a face.

"Where is he?" said a man's voice.

My heart hammered in my chest as I peeked around the corner. I caught just the glimpse of a man in military uniform standing over Clark, who was tied up in a chair. I couldn't make out the thug's face, but that voice was very familiar.

"I told you... I don't know," I heard Clark answer, sounding weary and defeated.

"Give up the alien!" said the man, slapping Clark once more. I realized with a gasp who he was.

Trask! But what was that military rogue doing out here bothering Clark in Smallville?

Suddenly, my rolling pin didn't seem nearly as adequate, and I wish I had opted for a kitchen knife after all.

Trask stood over Clark, menacingly. "I'm going to make you a deal, trusting that your stay in Metropolis has put some sense in your head. Give up the alien, and I'll let you live."

Clark seemed a bit worn out, but he answered back rather defiantly. "What makes you think I could do that if I wanted to?"

I knew it was imperative for me to stay hidden, and luckily, it was easy to do with so little light in the barn. I stepped inside and hid behind a stack of hay bales, watching for my moment to jump in and help Clark.

"Superman came to Smallville around the time you were born. There has to be a connection. Tell me, and you live."

Was that true? Why had Superman ever been to Smallville? And why would Trask think that Clark knew anything about it?

"There's nothing to tell. I'm learning all this for the first time now," Clark answered, cool and reasonable. He seemed more perturbed by the interrogation than worried about how much danger he was in. I watched him carefully from my position, though I could only see him in profile.

Trask suddenly stomped angrily towards Clark, leaning over him, intimidating. "I'm trying to save humanity from an alien invader, Kent!"

Clark calmly answered, "You have no proof of that."

"There's another possibility," Trask mused as he paced around Clark, beginning to look entirely unhinged. "Perhaps the alien has taken over your mind, infused you with its power."

"Nobody's infused me with any power. Nobody's taken over my mind," Clark said calmly. He glanced ever so slightly my way, and then did a double take, as a look of horror crossed his features. He quickly schooled them though, as he turned back to Trask. "How did you even get out here in this storm? What did you expect me to do?"

Trask grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know? I found something on the Irigs' property. Something that will save the human race from the alien invasion. Call Superman here, and I'll show you."

"Superman's in Metropolis," Clark said logically, though his face had gone pale. "I can't summon him here."

"But you do know how to contact him?" accused Trask.

"Superman... is a friend-- to the whole city of Metropolis. He's no threat, Trask. You are."

"Ah but, if he is your friend, then eventually he'll come for you, won't he... or if not you, I bet he would if that nosy partner of yours were in danger."

"Lois?" Clark whispered, seeming to resist the urge to glance in my direction. "She's in Metropolis. You can't get to her," he strangled out.

Trask laughed, making me jump out of my own skin. "I know she's here in Smallville. I have a small group searching the city for her... between the two of you being in danger, Superman is bound to show up."

I saw Clark glance quickly in my direction, a strong note of warning in his eyes. He obviously wanted me to leave the barn. But to go where? Back in the house, where Trask would eventually find me anyway?

I longed to have Superman's phone number in that moment on speed dial, some quick and easy way to call him and tell him the danger we were in. But at the same time, it seemed that Trask had a ready trap for Superman, though I couldn't fathom what on earth it could be.

Somehow, Clark and I had to shake this madman on our own.

***

My legs were getting cramped from crouching behind the hay. I debated heading back into the house anyway, to think of a plan, but moving from my spot might just give me away. Besides, what could I get from the house that would help me? Jonathan Kent's hunting rifle? Yeah, right. I was intimidated as it was by just Martha's kitchen knives. I had no way of defending us.... Wait. A kitchen knife could come in handy. If I were caught, I could possibly use it to cut through the ropes. Or if Trask left the barn, I could free Clark. Why hadn't I thought of that sooner?

I stepped just outside the barn, judging the distance to the house. It seemed far away, now that I had the fear of Trask spotting me. However, he seemed preoccupied with intimidating Clark for the moment. It was now or never.

I tripped over Clark's flashlight with a dull thud, kicking snow over it so it was buried in the drifts around it.

"What was that?" Trask said suddenly.

"Uh, the wind?" I heard Clark suggest.

I got to my feet and clamored towards the house, fearful that Trask had seen me. The rolling pin was still awkwardly sitting inside my jacket, and only the fear of it being used against me later kept me from discarding its weight in the snow. I didn't turn back until I reached the door, and sure enough, Trask was there, coming after me.

I slammed the back door shut, and threw the lock, knowing that it would only buy me a bit of time. He could smash the glass and reach in--

I tried not to think about it as I headed to the kitchen drawers, looking for a weapon. Where before I had hesitated against selecting cutlery, I was now searching for the biggest knife I could find. It was mostly dark inside, as only the distant fire in the living room was giving off any light. However, I was glad I had helped with dishes the other night so I had an idea of where to look.

Inevitably, I heard banging on the back door. I took out the rolling pin and grabbed two knives. One butter knife I slipped into my boot, and the other, a larger chopping knife, I kept close to my person. Perhaps I could hole myself up in here for a while... Banging on the door wasn't getting him anywhere, as I certainly wasn't going to let him in.

The noise stopped for a second, and I wondered if he had given up, or gone to the front door. I hastily ran across the house to the front, and locked it. Just as I reached it, I heard a shot ring out from the kitchen. He had shot the lock with a gun!

I dove up the stairs, trying to keep my footsteps as silent as possible.

"Miss Lane?" he called, heading into the living room. "I know you're in here."

I made it to Clark's room. I shut the door and grabbed a chair to put against the handle. Like a frightened child, I got under the covers, trying to think what to do. We had no electricity, no phone service, and a maniac was coming after me. What do people do in these situations -- besides call for Superman?

*Die!* a terrified voice inside my head screamed. But no, I wouldn't give in to panic. Trask wanted Superman. He wouldn't kill Clark or me until he got what he wanted, right? I didn't let myself dwell on the thought that he really only needed one of us to lure Superman...

How were we to get Superman way out here, anyway? Couldn't Trask have stalked us in Metropolis, where Superman was easily found?

I heard boots on the stairs, and I glanced over at my makeshift blockade. The chair would stall him, but it wouldn't keep him out forever. I longed to call out for Superman, even if we were in backwater Smallville. I also wondered what had happened to my partner. Had Clark managed to get free from Trask's ties?

I simultaneously worried and hoped that he was on Trask's heels to back me up. Another shot rang out, as Trask shot through Clark's door. He easily pushed through the chair blockade, and I looked up at him from Clark's bed, my hands suddenly in the air in surrender.

"What do you want, Trask?" I asked, though of course I already knew.

"Superman. And you will bring him here, one way or another."

He shoved me to my feet, the larger knife clanging noisily to the floor. He gave me a disgusted look, then kicked it under the bed. Trask made me walk in front of him, the gun lodged in my back between my shoulder blades. It was dark in the house, and I wasn't sure if that made things better or worse. Maybe I could find my moment to slip out of his grasp... but I had to choose it carefully.

"What have you done with Clark?" I demanded.

"He's waiting for our hero in blue to appear in the barn," Trask said from behind me, in a voice that gave me chills of fear. "Let's go and see if he's showed up yet, shall we?"

I held onto the railing as we walked down the stairs, every second calculating when I could make a move. But the steel of the gun in my back was making it hard to concentrate. I felt tears burning in the back of my eyes as we went past the living room. What a dolt I had been to worry about getting too close to Clark. You'd think I would have learned by now not to rule out the possibility of crazy psychopaths getting in the way of me spending too much time alone with my partner!

"Why are you doing this, Trask? Why here? Why not chase down Superman in Metropolis?"

"Because here... I may have just found something to stop Superman once and for all."

I didn't like the sound of that one bit. I stumbled out onto the back porch, and Trask grabbed my arm to keep me walking. "Don't try any false moves, Lane. I may want to keep you alive as bait for Superman, but I am not averse to injuring you to keep you from running, got it?"

I nodded, stark terror cutting through me.

As we neared the barn, I could see an odd green glow coming from the barn. "What is that?" I asked, fearful of its eerie cast on the freshly fallen snow.

"A present in case Superman shows up."

As we rounded the barn, I could see the bright green glow of a meteor rock, sitting a few feet away from Clark. Clark himself was slumped over in his chair, looking like he was asleep or worse...

"Clark!" I cried out, turning to Trask. "What have you done to him? He hasn't been feeling well these past few days, and this cold can't be good for him. Have you no trace of humanity in you?"

Trask moved over to the strange green rock and set it back in its case, all the while keeping a gun trained on me.

He sat me down roughly in a chair behind Clark, though Clark still didn't seem to have awakened. Trask tied my hands behind my back, and I could just feel the tips of Clark's fingers. I didn't know what Trask expected to do with us, or how he thought Superman would find us out here on the Kent farm.

"Clark?" I called over my shoulder, needing to hear his voice, to hear that he was okay.

But he just groaned.

"He's obviously sick, Trask! He needs to be in bed! He may need the hospital for all you care!" I shouted, exaggerating my partner's condition to match the intensity of my fear.

Would Trask just have us sit out here in this freezing barn until we somehow got a hold of Superman? The man was a lunatic!

"No... hospitals," I thought I heard Clark murmur behind me.

"There, you see? He doesn't need a hospital, he's just not feeling very well," said Trask, his hand on that lead box that held the strange green rock. "Just call for Superman, and all of this will be over," he instructed.

I glanced fearfully at the box, afraid of what that rock could do to Superman. Trask may be a lunatic, but he seemed to be one who had thought out all of his moves.

"You can't just keep us holed up here forever, Trask," I spat defiantly. "It's madness! The storm hasn't even let up and--"

Trask marched over to me, leaning in, his breath a heavy stench of cigarettes and aftershave. "You've harbored the alien. I should have you tried for treason! You've lauded him as a hero in the press, all the while he has been planning our demise!"

"No..." Clark groaned behind me.

"It's not true! Superman stands for everything you don't, Trask! Everything that's good in the world! It's just too bad you can't understand that!" I cried, my vehemence coming out stronger because I was so afraid. "And Clark needs to go inside! He'll freeze to death out here!"

"I never knew you cared for your partner so much, Miss Lane," Trask said snidely. "I thought you had your sights set on Superman."

"Clark's a good person! And any normal person would see he needs care!" I cried. I tried glancing over my shoulder at Clark, but couldn't really see him. "How are you holding up?" I asked quietly.

"Just a... bad headache."

Trask crossed his arms, looking down at me with a smug grin. "Look, just hand over Superman and I'll let you two go. It's that simple. So... how do you get in touch with him?"

"Well... I usually just.... call," I said a bit at a loss.

"Like on the phone? You can call him?" Trask seemed intrigued by this possibility.

"No, like this -- help, Superman!" I cried at the top of my lungs. I felt Clark flinch behind me, and I felt a little bad, knowing how when you have a headache, a top-notch scream is not what you want to hear. "Sorry, Clark," I whispered over my shoulder, and then glanced back at Trask. "But you see... it is to no avail. Certainly not in backwater Smallville. Trask, you are barking up the wrong tree."

"No, I'm barking up the right tree... so if you can't get Superman, perhaps your partner has a way? He does seem to get about as many Superman exclusives as you do... and I've yet to hear a story about Clark Kent yelling for the Man of Steel to come rescue him," Trask said, a note of inquisitiveness in his voice.

"It doesn't matter how I know him. Superman... can't show up here now anyway," Clark said sadly. I felt his pain, knowing how far away we were from Metropolis. Trask was insane. There was no way Superman would find us all the way out here.

"You can't hold us here indefinitely. We've told you -- it's impossible to reach Superman," I said, hoping to appeal to some logic in Trask.

He paced around us, shaking his head. "No, no... I've done my research... I know that no matter where you two are, Superman can find you. I believe he can find you even out here."

"Then why didn't he show up when I yelled for him?"I asked boldly.

"Maybe he knows what I have for him... " Trask said, glancing at the box with the strange meteor rock. "Or maybe... you aren't in enough danger..."

Trask suddenly took his gun and aimed it at my chest. "How about yelling for Superman now, Miss Lane?" he smirked malevolently.

"Superman," I whispered, too terrified to draw breath.

Clark moved and instantly seemed to come alive again. "Trask, no! You--you don't know what you're doing!"

"I'm getting that alien creature to appear. I know exactly what I am doing," he said, and I heard the click of the hammer as he readied to shoot. I scrunched my eyes shut, wishing I were anywhere but there. Even reading pesticide reports with Clark was better than this!

"No--you--can't! I mean--I --" Clark was twisting in his chair, and I felt his head clunk against mine as he struggled. "Superman won't come from Metropolis... and you're right to notice he always appears when we're around, and always rescues Lois..." his voice took on a melancholic tinge to it, and I wondered what he was getting at. "And he always will... no matter what the cost," he muttered. Clark paused and then let out a heavy sigh. "Trask, *I* am Superman."

I stifled a laugh, but then immediately sobered, still staring down the barrel of a gun. "Clark! Don't be ridiculous!"

But there had been an urgency, a seriousness to his voice that made me very nervous. Surely Clark was kidding, just trying to buy us time, right? He couldn't possibly be Superman... he would have told me!

*Would he, Lois?* Asked an insidious voice in the back of my brain. What reason would he have had to tell me? I had fallen all over Superman, and Clark -- well, I mean I liked him. Most of the time. But still -- it just couldn't be true!

I was pulled out of my thoughts when suddenly Trask swung the gun to take aim at Clark.

"If you are Superman, then you have no need to fear bullets, do you, Kent?" Trask asked smoothly.

"No, Trask, don't!" Clark shouted, but it was too late.

I heard a shot ring out, and tried to look over my shoulder to see what had happened. I felt Clark slouch, and cold fear shot through me as I worried that Trask had killed him!

"Clark!" I cried frantically.

"Don't worry, he'll live. But he proved he was bluffing," Trask answered calmly.

"Clark! Answer me! What happened?" I cried hysterically, my mind in a whirlwind. Did Clark just take a bullet for me? Was he dead? Why would he be so stupid as to say he was Superman?! Why, of all the stupid, idiotic things to do!

"Please, you have to let me help him," I cried, trying harder than ever to loosen the bonds around my wrists.

"Loi....s," I heard Clark say behind me, and I nearly broke my neck trying to turn to see him.

"Clark? What happened? What did he do?"

"My... arm... Don't worry... it... will all be... okay," he got out in slurs.

"You maniac!" I screamed defiantly at Trask. "Look what you've done! You've shot an innocent man! Some protector of humanity you are!" I spat angrily.

"It was necessary to prove he was lying," Trask suddenly and unexpectedly cut my ropes. "We'll go into the house, and you can fix him up. But try anything else--and neither of you will be so lucky. I know you can reach Superman, and I'm not leaving this farm until I get him."

I turned to Clark, as Trask cut his bonds, a gun still trained on both of us. Clark's forehead was warm and his eyes seemed to be having difficulty focusing. He was feverish. No wonder he had become so delusional as to say that he was Superman! "Clark? Clark, look at me?" I said, taking hold of both sides of his head to face me. "What kind of madness was that, you crazy fool?" I admonished, though there was little bite to my words, so choked was I with tears that he had gone so far as to take a bullet for me. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

I struggled to get Clark to his feet, and he wasn't able to do much of the work. As we slowly made our way to the house, I was disheartened by the clear track of blood he was leaving in the snow. How much blood had he lost already? What if he didn't make it?

"Clark? Listen to me. You're going to be fine, you hear? Just keep focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, nice and steady," I went on, encouraging him with each little step. Eventually I got him to a seat in the kitchen. It was still quite dark, though the sun was starting to rise, just barely.

Clark nodded towards a cupboard. "Mom keeps extra... towels in there. And there might be some candles, too."

I glanced at Trask, wondering if he'd let me move to the cupboard, and then he nodded. "But I'm keeping an eye on you, Miss Lane. Don't tempt me to use another bullet," he warned, his gun trained on me.

I opened the cupboard and immediately saw the towels. There were bandages and rubbing alcohol as well. I didn't see any candles, but my hands bumped into something else of interest... a small vegetable peeler. It wasn't a knife, but it might do in a pinch. I slipped it into my pants pocket, hidden from view behind the cabinet door, before I shut it.

I came over to Clark, who had a puddle of blood just below his elbow. I tried not to think of the blood, but tossed a towel on the ground to absorb it as I tended to his arm. I don't know when he had lost his jacket, but he was only wearing a plaid shirt and a t-shirt underneath.

"Think you can get this over shirt off?" I asked gently, struck by how pale and weak he seemed. I couldn't recall a time when Clark had been sick or even really tired. He always seemed fresh and full of energy. It angered me deeply that not only had Trask struck out at Clark when he was already not feeling very well, but that he had taken away that light in his eyes when he looked at me, which now was gone. Clark looked so... helpless, and lost, and seeing that look in my partner put more fear in my soul than anything else that had happened to us tonight so far.

Clark nodded assent as I lifted him a little to take off the shirt. I could see the injury clearly now; the bullet had grazed his bicep, but wasn't -- thank God--lodged inside it. "What were you thinking, provoking him like that?" I whispered fiercely, my hands suddenly shaking as I realized how serious a situation we were in.

He was quiet, but then with his other hand, he lifted my chin to look in my eyes. "Lois... I--I'd do anything for you," he said simply, his eyes warm with emotion. Suddenly, those fears of intimacy with Clark came rushing back, distraught by how his words snuck so easily into my heart and warmed it. Traitorous tears crept back into my eyes, and I swiped at them with a sleeve.

"Clark..." I started, but had no idea what I wanted to say. There was such depth of emotion in his eyes, such hurt even, and I couldn't make sense of it at all.

"Are you almost finished?" Trask said harshly, standing over us.

"We'll get through this, partner," I whispered, as I finished tying the bandage around his arm. I had a little experience with field dressing when I had been an imbedded journalist for a very short time in my early days at the Planet. But I quickly had realized that war zones were not my thing, and that I preferred your everyday city villains to the confounding dangers of war.

Clark gave me a weak smile, but it was a smile nonetheless, and it gave me courage as I turned to face our captor.

Trask suddenly looked nervous and he ran his fingers through his hair, the gun still in his hand. "I left it in the barn," he muttered, frustrated. "Damn it!"

"Um, what?" I asked, finding myself amused despite the situation by his self-berating.

"The meteor rock!" he answered as if I were stupid. "We have to go back to the barn to get it."

"You could always just leave us here," I said innocently.

Trask trained the gun back on Clark and kicked out a kitchen chair. "Kent, you sit here." Clark, apparently still not doing very well, did as Trask asked.

He kicked another chair out and moved it back to back with Clark's. "Lane, here."

I obliged him, hearing my heart hammer in my ears as I hoped he didn't think to check my person and discover my peeler... or my butter knife. I gave a little fight at being tied up, enough for him to know I wasn't happy about it and to hopefully put away any suspicions that I might have a plan of escape.

He tied Clark and me back to back, our ropes around our wrists, but not tied together. When he was satisfied, he headed out the back door. As soon as it shut, I turned as best I could towards Clark.

"Clark? I have a peeler in my pocket. I can't reach it. Can you?"

I shifted in my chair, grateful that the chairs weren't tied together, so that my hip was closer to Clark's tied hands. "Can you reach me?"

I kept trying to glance out the window, knowing we only had a few minutes at best until Trask returned. Clark still seemed a little weak, but he understood this could be our only chance.

I felt him grab onto my chair, and I tried to angle my hip to be in a better position for him to reach into my pocket. He accidentally touched my butt and let out a quick, "Sorry."

"You can apologize later, Clark. Just get the peeler," I said, feeling his fingers get inside my pocket. A few seconds later I heard, "Got it!" and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I tried to hop my chair back around to where Trask had left us. I could see his shadow on the porch, knowing we only had seconds to appear as if nothing had gone on in his absence.

"It will be okay, Lois," Clark whispered to me, just before Trask opened the door. I felt oddly reassured by his statement, knowing that like Superman, Clark was always there for me. I knew he wouldn't give up on me any more than I'd give up on him.

Trask set the heavy box on the kitchen table, giving it a reverent pat. "Superman doesn't have a chance as long as I have this... It puts you two in quite a dilemma. Give up Superman, or risk your lives to save him. One way or another, I will get what I want."

"Superman obviously isn't in Smallville," I reiterated, though I could see it didn't matter to Trask. His eyes seemed cold, but also distracted and off-kilter. His obsession was pushing him into the boundaries of madness, and logic wasn't going to work with him.

"But you are. And I know that whenever Lois Lane is in trouble, Superman always finds a way to rescue you. I will just bide my time... I've already delivered a message to the Daily Planet. Either Superman shows in the next twenty-four hours, or their favorite reporters will be taken into government custody indefinitely."

"You can't do that," I said. "It's illegal. You have no legal reason to hold us hostage."

Trask scoffed. "Aiding and abetting an enemy of the State? I'd say that's reason enough..."

"Superman isn't an enemy of the State, Trask. You just made that up," Clark clarified.

I suddenly felt Clark's fingers move against mine. I could tell from the movement that he was trying to saw through his ropes. We needed to keep Trask talking so he would be distracted from what Clark was doing.

"Perry White will know you're bluffing, Trask," I chimed in. "You were dishonorably discharged from the military after your last escapade going after Superman. Everyone knows that."

"I still have friends high up who believe in me. Don't think that I don't have the ability to make you both disappear."

His warning sent a chill down my spine. I wasn't sure what resources he had at his disposal, but I didn't like the idea of pushing the boundaries to find out what he was capable of.

I heard a slight grunt behind me, and felt Clark's fingers on mine as he started to cut through my ropes. He was free! Maybe we could get out of this without Superman after all. My confidence restored, I started looking around the room for our next move. Should we both try to rush Trask and take the gun from him? No, that could end up getting one or both of us killed... and in this weather, it wasn't like we could call the police to back us up either. I suddenly wished for telepathy so I could know what Clark was thinking.

I felt my wrists free from the ropes, and Clark's warm hands were suddenly holding mine as if to calm me. Or to tell me not to move just yet. Maybe Clark had a plan after all?

Trask still had his eye on us, but was radioing someone about whether or not they had heard a response from the Daily Planet. I couldn't hear the answer, but I suddenly heard a whisper over my shoulder.

"Don't move, Lois," Clark said, a note of warning in his voice. "Do you trust me?"

The question came as a surprise, and before I could think about it my answer came, "Of course I do."

I had never really thought about it before, but I did trust Clark. He was my best friend, and if I had to be tied up and held hostage by a madman, there wasn't anyone better to be tied up with. Well, other than Superman, I suppose. But Clark Kent had proven to me time and again that he was reliable when it counted.

Trask finished his radio conversation and turned his full attention on us. "I hope you're comfortable. Superman is nowhere to be found, and we aren't moving until I know he is coming for you two." He walked back into the kitchen and laid his hand on the lead box with the strange green rock in it. "Yes, the government is very curious about how this rock can stop the alien invasion..." He suddenly lifted the lid to inspect its contents, and I heard Clark grunt behind me.

"No, Trask, don't--" he said.

Though I couldn't see Clark, I saw the reaction in Trask's eyes to Clark's comment. They became wide with fear, and perhaps a little curiosity. He lifted the box and came closer to us.

"It's-- you, isn't it?" Trask said, a strange mix of loathing and awe in his voice. "You're him. Superman."

I felt a chill go up my spine, seeing the look of relish that came over Trask's features as he brought the rock ever closer. I could hear Clark grunting in agony, and I suddenly put the puzzle together myself.

Clark had admitted it only a short time before. *"Trask, I am Superman."*

And yet, neither Trask nor I had believed him. Because he had been vulnerable, made vulnerable by that horrible green rock because Clark -- was Superman.

I felt the breath leave my lungs, as my thoughts tried to catch up with my emotions. A cool, rational wave calmed me, as I put the myriad pieces together.

Clark always disappearing at odd moments and with the lamest of excuses.

Never seeing Superman or Clark at the same place.

And the cool distance with which the hero always treated me -- the very same cool distance I gave Clark on a daily basis.

Yet Clark had lied to me. Repeatedly, and on purpose!

I temporarily stemmed my anger, deciding instead to direct it at Trask. Clark would get a good talking to if we got through this, but first, I had to make sure that Trask wouldn't hurt him.

Trask was inching ever closer, his attention fixed on his victim. Good. Perhaps he wouldn't notice me.

Trask walked past me, his eyes wide with a horrid fascination as he went after his quarry. He seemed mesmerized by the effect the green rock was having on Clark. I felt sick watching him, hearing Clark struggle just behind me. The strongest man on the planet, menaced by a green rock. It was a disturbing irony, and the humiliation of it must be killing Clark.

I felt the ropes in my hands, getting angrier by the second as Trask approached. He was at least twice my size, if not more, and I knew that at best I would be able to distract him. I would have to get the rock away from him somehow so Clark would have a chance to recover.

Had Superman ever told me about this rock? I suppose not, and I wondered, from Clark's reaction to it, if he even had known about it before either.

As soon as Trask's back was to me, I jumped out of the chair,and lunged up on its seat to reach Trask's shoulders. I jumped on his back, using the rope to try and strangle him. As I had feared, he was too strong for me, though it did distract him enough so that he dropped the green rock. It rolled somewhere near Clark, and I could see him crumple up in ever more acute agony...

"Can you close the lid, Clark?" I called, being tossed around on Trask's back like a monkey on an angry lion.

I couldn't see him, but I heard the box close. Just as I tried to look over my shoulder at Clark, Trask managed to toss me into the wall, where I fell off, landing on the floor with a thud.

"Don't touch her, Trask," I heard Clark say from behind Trask, who was looming over me, now with the ropes in his hand.

He glanced at Clark, and I could see that Clark had somehow gotten Trask's gun.

***

I felt stupefied, dumbfounded -- use whatever adjective you wish -- when I had a moment to let the revelations of the last few minutes wash over me. Clark stood now, holding the automatic pistol pointed towards Trask's chest. He shook with the tension of holding the gun, something I doubt he had ever done before. But his gaze remained fixed on Trask, determined to intimidate him if not stop him entirely. I knew Clark would never shoot him, but I wondered if Trask knew that. Perhaps his own fear of the 'alien' he had created in his mind made him believe Clark was capable of anything.

Clark was standing over Trask, yet it wasn't him. I mean, it was Clark. But it was also Superman, and that realization kept my eyes fixed on their tableau, for reasons more than concern over the situation itself.

I felt a little foolish; where previously I would have bet my reputation on Clark not being Superman, his reaction to that green rock had been undeniable. He wasn't wearing tights or the cape, but I knew the fullness of the truth, of who he really was... and how often and easily he had lied to me.

I wanted to be angry with him, but my fascination over the revelation held my anger at bay, at least for now. Perhaps it was the curious reporter in me, but all I wanted to do was ask Clark a hundred questions about his double life, though I knew I couldn't do it with Trask still here. In this weather, we were stuck with him for the foreseeable future so I was left to simmer in my tumbling emotions and burning questions.

Clark turned to me, his face eloquent with apology. "Lois, could you--?" he said, gesturing to the lead box that held that deathly poison for him. "Take it somewhere, anywhere. Just don't say where so our -- guest doesn't get any ideas."

I nodded wordlessly, lifting the heavy lead box, still puzzled as to how it had hurt Clark yet not wanting it to do further damage to him.

Trask watched me, and I could feel his hate radiating towards me.

"You're making a big mistake, Miss Lane. The world will judge you harshly for aiding and abetting this alien creature!"

I glanced at Clark, but he hid his gaze from me. Was he afraid I agreed with Trask on some level? I wanted to reassure him. To tell him that despite how upset I was that he had hid this secret from me, I could never believe what Trask was saying.

But I knew that first I had to get rid of the poisonous rock. No matter how much Clark had lied to me, he'd saved me more times than I could count. Despite my anger at the deception, I still would do anything I could to keep Trask from getting the upper hand.

I put on my boots, hat, gloves and jacket once more. I looked over again at Clark, who despite being Superman, looked like his arm was getting tired of holding the pistol at Trask. I wondered what he would do in my absence and just prayed it wouldn't be something foolish. I knew Superman to be levelheaded and capable, but Clark... Had his bumbling excuses all been an act, too? I suppose so, and I couldn't resist staring at Clark a moment before leaving, trying to reconcile what my brain knew, but what my heart was still processing. His glasses were gone, and there was a curl of hair on his forehead, that sometimes slipped out of place when he was Superman. But the worry and the tension in his face... was purely Clark.

He glanced at me and tried to send me some sort of reassuring smile. But my world was upside down, and I didn't know how to handle it, how to face him. That smile melted my defenses when I saw it on Superman, and when Clark dared it, it always threw my wall of sarcasm up. Knowing that the two were one and the same was humiliating, really, and despite my anger at his lies, I knew I had done my fair share of mooning after Superman. Enough that I even wondered if Clark had had a few laughs at my expense.

"I'll, uh, be back," I said vaguely in Clark's direction, carrying the harmful lead box out of the house, happy to have a moment alone with my thoughts.

Snow was coming down heavier than we had anticipated, based on what the local radio had predicted. I guess a country foot of snow was more than a city foot, or something like that. The wind was still howling as well, and made it difficult to see very far ahead of me. The barn, however, was large and red, which made it a reasonable target to head towards. At first I was thinking of just leaving it there, but then again, if Trask managed to escape from the house, I didn't want him to be able to find it. I wondered if Clark would even recover from the exposure he already had. The thought that he might not shot a fear of terror through me. How could he live with himself if he never got his powers back? To be the most powerful man on the planet and to be suddenly be rendered -- normal? I had to believe that there was a way --that he would recover. The world needed Superman, and so did I.

I did go in the barn, but only to purloin a shovel. I would bury the box somewhere away from the house, somewhere where I thought Trask wouldn't be able to find it. That meant I had to get far enough away as to not be seen from the house.

The lead box was heavy under my arm, but I wasn't about to let that stop me from my mission. As I trudged through the snow, my mind wandered back to the salient revelation of this little trip to Smallville -- Clark is Superman. But without his powers. Even if we hadn't had Trask to deal with, I felt guilty about the idea of yelling at him for lying to me when he himself was probably feeling so vulnerable.

I walked on, the snow coming down heavier and disrupting my vision. I was somewhere on the edge of the fields, I think. I could still make out the outline of the barn, and the house lay just beyond. I thought I was far enough away, yet close enough to easily find my way back.

I began shoveling the snow, thinking that the ground underneath was pretty solid. I just needed to bury the box in the snowdrifts, and Clark could deal with it later.

The wind was whipping my hair in my eyes, and the cold made my nose feel like it would break off at any given moment, but I kept working.

I couldn't even remember the last time I had held a shovel or done any physical labor. I had vague memories of helping my mother in the garden as a child, but the shovel felt heavy and foreign in my hands now.

I managed to dig a hole, though the snow kept sweeping in what I had dug out. Still, it was enough I thought to get the job done. I laid the box in the hole and threw more snow on top, noting that the snow drifts would quickly bury it anyway.

Satisfied that it wouldn't be easily found and that Clark would be safe from its effects, I turned to head back to the house.

I panicked a little as I realized the snow was coming down harder than I thought. I couldn't see the outline of the barn! I started walking in the direction that I remembered it being, but the wind and my own confusion made me feel less confident with every step. I used the shovel as a sort of walking stick through the drifts, though I felt it was the only solid thing I could see in this wintry world. I called out Clark's name, hoping he might hear me despite the wind. The irony that with his powers he definitely would have been able to hear me wasn't lost on me. I longed for my hero in red and blue... but I didn't know if he'd ever come back to me. And even if he did, I'd have to get to know him all over again, as Clark.

Suddenly, someone out of nowhere grabbed me from behind. I felt terror seize me and I dropped the shovel. A scream was about to rip out of my lungs, but a hand holding a cloth covered it before I could.

Was it one of Trask's men or just another fluke of living out in the country? I think Smallville has more weirdoes than Clark gives it credit for.

I struggled, kicking with all of my might. Then I felt myself drifting as if in a fog, my muscles feeling weaker and softer.

As I faded out of consciousness, one thought drifted to the surface: "Damn. Chloroform. "

***

I awoke sometime later in the back of a van, my hands tied and my mouth gagged with a bandanna. I couldn't see anything, though I assumed we were parked somewhere since the car wasn't moving. My captor had seen fit to give me a blanket, but it was little defense against the bitter cold.

My feet were tied as well, though in the weak light I seemed to be facing a door. I gave it a shove, but my feet just contacted metal.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a whirl of wind came rushing into the small van. My eyes strained against the bright light and the wind. Last I had remembered, the sun was just coming up, and yet now it seemed as bright as noon.

"You. Grab the girl," I heard a voice say, and suddenly I was being tugged out of the van.

"What's going on here?" I demanded, my arm feeling like it was about to be twisted off.

"Take her out back with Irig. We'll wait until we hear orders on what to do with them."

"From Trask? He's tied up at the moment!" I spat, hoping it were still true. But even if he wasn't, he knew Clark's secret, and I had no doubt that he wouldn't rest until he'd exposed Superman's identity to the world.

The thugs ignored me and dragged me into a barn at the back of someone's property. I assumed it was Wayne Irig's, because despite the snow, about ten men were working with heavy equipment, digging and scanning around the area. They had set up huge tents around the farm that helped keep some of the snow at bay so they could work. I assumed they were looking for more of that green meteor rock that had hurt Clark. I wanted to scream with the futility of it all. If Clark did show up here, even with his powers and there were meteor rocks present, we were all doomed.

They set me down on a chair next to a kindly looking farmer, and tied up me up. We were being watched by some man with a gun. Obviously it would be difficult to maneuver away, but I didn't see any harm in talking to him. "Are you Wayne Irig?" I asked to confirm my supposition.

He nodded glumly. "This is all my fault... I wish I had never dug up that green rock."

"Don't blame yourself."

"I just don't understand what they want it for."

Tears unexpectedly clogged my throat. *They want to use it to kill Superman.* Clark may have lied to me about Superman since I'd known him but he wasn't the kind of person --alien or otherwise -- who would hurt a living soul. No matter his deceptions, he obviously had good reason to keep it a secret. Even from me. Sure I was hurt that he hadn't wanted to share his secret, but I guess on some level I understood why. But no matter what, we had to get out of this without Clark being exposed to any more of that horrible green rock!

"How well do you know the Kents, Mr. Irig?"

"Please, call me Wayne... Well, I've known the Kents practically my whole life. They're good people. Especially that son of theirs. I've never met a nicer fella. I'm surprised he hasn't found himself a girl yet."

The tears that had been in my throat made their way to my eyes, and I was unable to stop one from rolling down my cheek. What a fool I had been... I hadn't seen what was right under my nose the entire time. Not that Clark as Superman had helped any. He never gave me any indication as to who he really was.

And maybe he never would have told me.

Besides, what had I done to deserve to know? I had fawned all over Superman while putting down or flat out ignoring poor Clark! I felt my cheeks burn with shame. Even just for Clark's sake. He had never deserved for me treat him like that and yet he had tolerated it. Why?

Had he hoped that I'd see through the suit and flashy cape to Clark underneath? Or had Clark hoped that I'd see something of the hero in him?

Either way, I had missed, on both counts.

And now, I wasn't sure if I'd see him again. Who knew what these thugs would do to us, or whether Clark had managed to contact the police to deal with Trask. For all I knew, Trask had managed to shoot Clark while he was still vulnerable, and that thought absolutely terrified me.

My worry was beginning to exhaust me; plus, I didn't think the chloroform had entirely worn off. Sometime between talking to Wayne and going round in circles in my head, I had fallen asleep. I know I had, because I was woken up by a strong, southern yet authoritative accent.

"You do not have a permit to dig on Wayne Irig's property. Now, who is in charge around here?"

I was never so relieved to hear the voice of an ex-girlfriend of Clark's as I was to hear Rachel Harris'.

"Sherriff Harris! In here!" I cried out, just before the guy with the gun came to tie another bandanna around my mouth. Wayne was apparently shocked into silence, as they didn't seem to feel the need to gag him.

I feared I had missed our chance of salvation when two officers with guns entered the barn. "There are hostages back here, Sherriff!" shouted one, aiming his weapon at the heavy that had been keeping an eye on us.

Trask's hired man didn't seem to fear anything, and shot at the officer, hitting him in the shoulder. The second officer immediately shot the guard in return. Neither men appeared dead, but both men were down. I tried not to look at the blood oozing from the thug's body onto the dirt floor.

A few seconds later, the uninjured officer came to Wayne and I and cut our ropes. "Are you all right?"

I immediately thought of Clark, fearing the worst.

"Yes, but we have to get over to the Kents' immediately! Their ringleader, Trask, is there with my partner. When I left, Clark had him at gun point, but he's not the kind of guy to use guns and I have no idea what will happen!"

"Clark's in danger?" asked Rachel, in between delegating her men to round up the workers while at the same time radioing for backup.

"I'm afraid so. We need to get back to the Kent place now!"

***

My nerves were on edge the whole way back to the Kents'. The snow was slowing us down, and even in a pickup truck, we weren't able to go any faster than 20 miles per hour. The fifteen minutes it took to get there were the longest minutes of my life.

I feared what we'd see upon arrival. What if Clark was weaker than ever and Trask had gotten the best of him? What if Trask had gotten his gun back and -- I didn't even want to think about it.

My heart was in a roil over Clark as it was. I had to deal with my infatuation with Superman and the fact that I really liked my partner. But I couldn't even begin to sort out my heart until I knew we all were going to be okay.

As we finally pulled up into the driveway, we could see two figures fighting in the snow. It was obviously Clark and Trask, though it was hard to tell who had the upper hand.

Rachel stopped the truck a good distance away and turned to me. "Wait here where it's safe, okay?"

I nodded, even though I wanted nothing more than to run to Clark and be sure he was going to be all right.

Rachel had one of her deputies follow her, and I watched as she approached the two men. The snow had stopped, though I couldn't hear from this distance if they were talking. I worried that something about Clark being Superman was being said and what Rachel would make of it all. I just hoped that if she did hear anything, she was a good enough friend of Clark's that she either wouldn't believe it or know enough to keep it to herself.

The suspense was killing me, though, and suddenly, I couldn't sit still a minute longer. Before I could stop myself with common sense, I hopped out of the truck. I had to know what was happening. I planned on staying out of the sightlines, even if the only thing I could really hide behind in the open field was what I thought were a couple of large hay bales. With the layer of snow over them, I figured they'd be large enough for me to hide behind, so I could hopefully hear what was happening.

I made a run towards the hay stacks and heard Rachel say a curse under her breath. She wasn't happy about me not staying put. But obviously she didn't know me very well.

As I darted up the drive, Clark glanced towards me, which drew Trask's attention. Rachel was already by the house, and Trask apparently knew it was now or never. I thought he was quite far from me, but it didn't stop the quake of fear I felt when I saw his gun aimed in my direction. I dove near the first hill of hay and covered my head.

I heard Clark yell, "No!" and the sound of gunfire cut through the cold open air.

I swear my heart stopped and I was a little surprised not to find a bullet lodged in me.

When I opened my eyes, there Rachel Harris stood, aiming her still smoking gun at Trask, who had just fallen into the snow, apparently dead.

I clamored to my feet through the snow, still trying to absorb what had happened. My eyes found Clark, and all I knew was that his arms would be the safest refuge. "Clark!" I said, running towards him. He met me half way and gathered me up in his arms, as I instinctively knew he would. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay? You are the one Trask just shot at! I'm fine," he said, holding me close.

That was when I realized that either my dive had been just in time or else Rachel's bullet had spoiled Trask's aim. I clung to Clark in relief until we were rudely interrupted.

"Um, Clark?" Rachel said from behind us, some moments later. "Do you two have a minute? I've got a few questions..."

***

Rachel finally left an hour later after interrogating me and Clark about Trask. We were both as honest as we could be about what happened without revealing that Clark was Superman.

We'd probably eventually have to testify in court against the men that had been on Irig's property, but the whole nightmare seemed to be over for the moment.

I let Clark say good-bye to Rachel alone while I went into the kitchen to get another cup of coffee. Though the electricity was still off, Clark had boiled some water over the fire, and I took the kettle to pour hot water into the French press. I wasn't sure if I was doing it right, but a little while later I was able to sit down in the living room with a passable cup of coffee. I stared into the fire as I drank, replaying the events of the last day in my head.

Clark is Superman.

How could I not have known? I glanced over at the doorway, seeing his broad shoulders nearly meet both sides of the frame. He was an imposing figure and yet the gentlest of souls.

And I just couldn't stop feeling like I had messed everything up.

Yes, I was mad that he hadn't told me the truth. But how could I forgive myself for treating him so appallingly, while practically worshiping his alter ego? I must have come across as shallow and petty, and now I was worried about where we would go from here.

I heard the front door shut and waited for Clark to come into the living room. My heart was in a mess of emotions, and I wasn't sure which would come to the surface first: relief that we both survived our encounter with Trask, anxiety over whether Clark would regain his powers, or the fact that I had made a fool of myself time and again with my infatuation of Superman?

Or simply, the fact that he was Superman?

"You want some company?" I heard him ask quietly from behind me.

"Yeah, sure," I managed to say, feeling my throat tight with tears. I glanced up at him, and he must have seen my look as he sat right down next to me.

"Lois, are you okay?" he asked solicitously, which only intensified my urge to cry.

I turned to face him, tears in my eyes, though I couldn't express exactly why. Stress over the events of the day, sure. But something else was there, too. Something akin to humiliation, or perhaps the fear that I would lose him.

I found myself in his arms somehow, as he set my mug of coffee on the table. Tears streamed down my face and I kept sobbing, "I'm sorry, Clark," into his shoulder, over and over. "I just didn't know."

He rubbed my back, like he would a child's. "I didn't mean for you to know, Lois. It was safer for you not to know."

I eventually sat up, and he handed me a tissue. "I mean, of course I didn't know. You never told me!" I said, hitting him in his uninjured shoulder out of frustration. "But--I should have known, on some level... some investigative reporter I am."

"Lois, don't do this. Please. Look, we both had a stressful day." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before speaking again. "I uh, I just need to know one thing."

I blew my nose and turned to him, seeing the stress of the day for the first time in his eyes, too. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose and then looked at me. "Are you going to tell Perry?"

I glanced at him, at first shocked that he would ask me that. I sighed and sat back into the sofa, musing over the idea. "Do you mean will I write an article about what I know? That Clark Kent is Superman?" I knew it would be the headline of a lifetime, sure. Any reporter worth his or her salt would kill to know the identity of Superman and write about it.

He shifted anxiously, not looking at me, and I reached out to touch his arm. "But the world's hero is also something else to me," I said softly. "He is my partner and my best friend." I couldn't get out all that I wanted to tell him, how I really felt. How I loved how he let me stay over at his place when criminals were on the loose. And how he always rescued me when I needed him the most. And sometimes, that he even does it without wearing a cape. I simply smiled at him, and I saw him watching me, unsure whether to trust my intention. "You've saved my life more times than I can count, Clark. I owe you so much... Both of you."

Despite my reassurances, I could still see anxiety in his expression. Perhaps he feared that Lois Lane, award-winning reporter, would still emerge triumphant. Maybe he feared her ambition would get the better of me and the better of him, and that I would write this most extraordinary and once in a career story.

And the fear that he thought those things about me, which would have been so accurate in the past, made me feel deeply ashamed.

I wanted him to know that I was his friend no matter what. That yeah, I could be a tough cookie on the outside, but that he had reached my tender center more often than I had wanted to acknowledge. I wanted him to know that he could trust me as much as I trusted him. I trusted him with my life -- even before I knew his secret. I always ran to Clark first when I had a problem.

I reached for his hand and squeezed it in mine, making him look at me. "No, Clark. I won't tell a soul. Your secret is my secret."

***

We sat for a long time in the living room, just idly talking as we both tried to decompress, sitting on the sofa by the fire next to each other, but not touching. I kept wanting to reach out to him physically, perhaps to reassure myself that we were okay. But it didn't seem appropriate, so I just asked him all the burning questions I had wondered about Superman but had been too intimidated to ask before. Realizing that my hero was also my best friend opened up possibilities that I had never thought I'd have the chance to discover.

"So you actually do get tired? And hungry?"

"Sure. Just... not as tired and not as hungry, I guess... But Lois... I still don't know if I'll get my powers back," he said, massaging his shoulder where he`d been injured.

"How's the bullet wound?" I asked, remembering the deep distress I had felt fearing he was dead.

"It's healing," he said, showing me where he had put on a new bandage. "Rachel had a medical kit, and I fixed it up a bit. It's sore, but it's getting better. But you know, that—meteor rock... I've never encountered anything like it. And actually, right now, I kind of just want to enjoy feeling normal."

"How ironic, huh? The moment I learn that you are so much more than normal is the time when you actually are just a regular guy."

He sighed moodily, and I wondered if I had said something wrong. "Lois, all I've ever wanted..." he shook his head in seeming frustration. "Never mind."

"What is it, Clark?" I asked, wanting desperately for him to open up to me. I had a burning desire to understand the hero I had been infatuated with and how he reconciled with what I knew of my best friend. I knew they were an amalgam of the two, and yet I still couldn't see the picture clearly.

He stood up to add more wood to the fire, and therefore wasn't facing me as he continued speaking.

"I guess I always hoped that you'd see something special about the ordinary guy side of myself. I can't help feel that now you know--" he sighed again, using the poker to move the logs.

"What? Tell me. What is it, Clark?"

"Well, just that--you like me more now. And I just don't want it to be because of my powers..."

I understood his insecurity. I had chastised myself enough over basically the same fear. But we were friends. And I wanted him to know that I put that first. "Well Clark, you are an ordinary guy. At least for the time being, right?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He glanced at me, skeptical.

"Clark, this is confusing for me, too. I mean, my hero is also my best friend. And I just have to sort of... figure out where we both stand. I--I don't want to lose you. Not because I've been so blind and stupid, you know? I mean, it's not like we are dating or something. It doesn't have to be complicated."

"But Lois, it is. You see, only those who are closest to me know my secret. And that secret won't go away. It will always be there. Which is exactly why I didn't want to burden you with it. We're sort of stuck with each other because of it. If we ever went our separate ways... I know it sounds selfish, but I'd worry about you telling someone. And I'd worry about you knowing. People could use you to get to me... and that—really terrifies me."

"Clark, my lips are sealed, I promise. And no matter what bad guy tries to pry the secret from me, I won't tell. You shouldn't worry, really," I said as confidently as I could, unable to fathom the scenarios that were probably going through his head.

He shook his head, once more staring down at the fire. "I will worry, Lois. If anyone tried to hurt you--"

"Clark, look, no one will know I know," I said, doing my best to reassure him. I just didn't know what he needed to hear. He still looked pensive. Did he just not trust me?

"It's more complicated than that, Lois," he said glumly.

"Why? It doesn't have to be. So I know your secret, big deal. No one else will know."

"Lois... forget it, okay? It's been a long day for both of us. Let's just get some sleep."

I didn't understand his abrupt change of subject. He was acting so strange, almost as if he were afraid of me. Or maybe just afraid of what I knew. I didn't want it to be a burden for him, though I had no idea how to reassure him. Did he not trust our friendship?

"Shall we camp out here on the sofa again, then?" I suggested, my heart suddenly racing a bit at the thought. I couldn't shake my infatuation with Superman so easily, despite my brave words, and I was intrigued by the idea of sleeping next to him again.

"Yeah, sure. I'm just going to run upstairs to change. Here's a flashlight. You can use the downstairs bathroom."

"Thanks, Clark," I said, taking the flashlight, and feeling reminded once again of how I had taken him for granted so often.

As I brushed my teeth in the light of the flashlight, I made a resolution to myself. Clark obviously felt responsible for my knowledge of his secret, and he worried if I could handle that burden. I felt a little insulted that he thought I couldn't handle it, but at the same time, I could see why he felt so vulnerable. He didn't know my deepest darkest secrets. And I wondered if I did tell him, would that help bolster his trust in me?

Sometime later, we got cozy on the sofa again. This time, Clark did take off his glasses, with a twisted smile at me as he did so. "These were my only disguise, Lois. I wanted you to see the man underneath... underneath the glasses and the suit," he said with a sigh, turning on his side.

I didn't know how to take that. Could that mean he cared for me more than just as a friend? I worried I was flattering myself by reading too much into that statement, but if it were true, well, that would explain a lot. It would explain why he felt so burdened that I knew his secret. I could destroy him with one article in the paper, and what did he have over me?

My infatuation with Superman?

I released my own sigh, realizing suddenly that maybe I wanted a deeper relationship with him than that. And if he had secretly longed for a relationship with me... perhaps there was a way to move forward from here.

I lay there, listening to the crackle of the fire, thinking. Eventually, I started talking, searching for a way to reach him, to make him understand that I trusted him and I wanted his trust in return. "I had a huge fight with my dad my senior year and I moved out on my own before I was eighteen," I said at last, breaking the still silence of the room.

"You never told me that."

"And I sometimes sit at home alone in a schlumpy robe and eat chocolate ice cream while watching cheesy soaps."

"Lois, why are you telling me this?"

"I guess... I don't know. I've learned a huge secret about you and I guess I want you to know that you can trust me with it. I guess I'm trying to give you blackmail material to make you feel better."

"It's okay, Lois. I do trust you."

"Do you?" I asked, the surprise evident in my voice. "Then why didn't you tell me before?"

"It wasn't because I didn't trust you, Lois. It was because I had wanted to keep you safe."

"Oh..." I said dumbly, thinking over what he said. "But am I really any less safe now? I mean, no one else knows that I know. Only Trask knew, and he's dead. I think there's more to it, Clark, and I wish you'd tell me."

I heard a sigh from the other end of the sofa as he adjusted his position once more. "Just... let it go for now, will you, Lois?"

I couldn't help but feel I was missing something, though Clark seemed loath to talk about it. I sighed and turned over on my side. "Sure, Clark... Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, Lois."

***

The next morning I woke up feeling very chilly. The fire had gone out, and Clark wasn't lying on the sofa across from me.

"Clark?" I called out to the empty room. I felt a thrill of fear after recent events, wondering if there weren't more of Trask's men in the area. What if Clark had run into them and he still didn't have his powers? What if--

"Clark?" I called out again, more fearful.

I gathered the blanket around my shoulders and made my way into the kitchen. He wasn't there, but I saw him chopping wood outside the kitchen window and let out a breath of relief. He was all right. And he hadn't abandoned me.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I had worried about that as well. I couldn't help but feel that I made him nervous now that I knew his secret. I wouldn't have blamed him if he had disappeared for a few hours to clear his head...

I caught a glimpse of my own head in the hall mirror, and though I admit I usually don't look terrible in the morning, today I felt pretty rough. There were circles under my eyes, and my hair needed a good combing. I didn't want Clark to come in and see me like this, even if he may have caught a glimpse of me while I was sleeping. That would have been through no fault of my own. Awake and aware of this mess, however, would be entirely unforgiveable.

I made my way upstairs to take a shower. I went to Clark's closet to pull out my suitcase, when I spotted an old box buried in the back of it. Although I knew Clark's secret, I still felt like I was learning who he really was, and for some reason this non-descript, ordinary box intrigued me. My curiosity got the better of me, so I tugged the box out of the closet, wondering what else I might learn about him from its contents.

I desperately wanted to understand him. How did an extraordinary farm boy decide to become the world's hero and not want a thing in return? Clark was the most selfless person I knew, in both his personas. And yet, what had made him don the suit in the first place?

The box was labeled with his name, and I supposed it carried old keepsakes and whatnot from his childhood. I felt a second's hesitation, fearing I was prying more than I should, but then dove in anyway, too curious not to.

As I had suspected, there were high school yearbooks, trophies, pictures of friends... and something at the bottom of the box... I dug through until I could pull it free. It was a telescope. I wondered if he was still interested in astronomy. Did it start when he learned where he was from? Or had he been drawn to it before he knew the truth about himself? When had his parents explained his origins? What did I really know of his origins anyway? I just knew he came from a planet called Krypton. But how he got here or when exactly, I didn't know. Yet I recalled seeing pictures of Clark as a young boy downstairs on the mantle. So he must have come here as a baby... such an extraordinary story.

I felt my reporter's blood kicking in, and I did my level best to tamper it down. I wanted to know more because I wanted to understand Clark, not to exploit him.

The telescope was a well-worm brassy color, and it felt cool to the touch. It looked like it had been well-loved, once upon a time. I hadn't really thought of a Christmas present for Clark, but I wondered if he'd mind if I cleaned up his telescope for him. Would he think it was too personal? That I had invaded his personal belongings? Or would he see it for what I wanted it to be -- a gesture to show him that I care and that I wanted to understand him?

I heard Clark enter the house, and I quickly put the box and the telescope back where I had found them.

"Uh, I'm going to take a shower, okay Clark?" I called down the stairs.

"Sure. I'll have breakfast ready when you finish."

I smiled, remembering seeing Clark in his mom's apron the other day.

"Okay, sounds good."

***

I came trundling down the stairs a while later to the comforting smells of bacon, eggs, and coffee. I had a smile on my face, as I had decided that I would indeed fix up Clark's old telescope, and I couldn't wait for him to open it tomorrow morning. I knew I was getting ahead of myself -- as I still wasn't sure where I'd find polish on the farm without asking Clark or whether I could get away for a sufficient amount of time to do a good job on it -- but the idea of doing a little something for him made me happy.

"Well, for being tied up and nearly shot at yesterday, you're in a good mood this morning," Clark said, using a camp stove to cook up breakfast.

"We survived. And, we have a story to send to Perry," I added, then blanched, as I realized what Clark must think I meant.

"I thought you weren't going to tell Perry anything," he said slowly.

"No, you misunderstand me, Clark," I said, rushing to correct myself. "We can still write up a story. Perry's going to expect something for the Planet on the um, pesticides."

Clark sighed, expertly finishing the scrambled eggs with some red pepper garnish. "What do you propose we say?"

"Well, Trask is dead. I think that's newsworthy. And we can just say that... Trask was delusional. That he thought somehow he had found a rock capable of hurting Superman. Something like that."

"I don't know..." Clark hedged, clearly uncertain.

"Look, I'll write it up, and I'll let you edit my copy however you like," I suggested magnanimously with a big smile.

"Really?" he asked, seeming to warm to the idea. "However I like? I do like the sound of that."

"Careful. Don't want you getting cocky," I teased. "But seriously Clark, we're here on the Planet's dime, and Trask's is an interesting story. We'll be very careful about not linking you to Superman, promise."

He nodded. "I know. You're right."

Suddenly, the house hummed to life. "Electricity is back on!" I cried happily. "At least we won't have to write our story by candlelight."

"It's practically a Christmas miracle! Smallville Electric and Power has never been this efficient before!"

I glanced outside at the snow and back at Clark, a flutter of nervous excitement at the thought of spending Christmas alone with him. Alone with Superman, even without his powers, was still a bit for me to take in.

Snowbound in Smallville was turning out to be not so bad after all.

***

"Lois," Clark said, looking out the back window in the kitchen. "What exactly did you do with the uh, green meteor rock?"

I was relishing the fact that we had electricity again and was perched beside the heater in the living room, working on my laptop. "What'd you say, Clark? Let me just finish this sentence..."

He came into the living room, and leaned lazily against the doorframe, a small smile on his face.

"What?" I said, reaching up to check my hair. Was he laughing at me?

"Nothing. It's -- just obvious that you are in work mode. How's the story coming?"

"Almost finished... But Clark, I wonder what we should call the green meteor rock. It's sort of a mouthful as it is..."

"Well, the world knows Superman comes from Krypton... and it is pieces of my home planet--"

"How about kryptonium?" I proffered, not sure if the word suited.

"It is a meteorite, so technically kryptonite would be more appropriate," he gently suggested.

"Hmm... sounds better too, I suppose," I admitted, editing in 'kryptonite' into the article.

"'And, in the end, Jason Trask's obsession caused him to search for a mystical rock he alone imbued with destructive powers, and to confuse one reporter with the target of his fixation, Superman. He came to see this strange visitor from another planet where he was not, and to see enemies where there were none. It was an obsession that for Jason Trask would prove fatal.'" Clark read over my shoulder. "You're quite a writer, Lois."

I smiled at the compliment. "Thanks... you, too," I added, in my effort to compliment my partner more. "And you're sure you don't want to share the byline?"

"No, it's better this way. I'll just tell Perry that I'm too close to it, being in Smallville and all."

I read through the article one last time and poised my finger over the send button as Clark read over my shoulder. "Anything else you want to add? Last chance."

"Looks good. Go ahead and send it."

I pushed the button and closed the lid on my laptop with a satisfied sigh. "Well, now we have no more work to do until after Christmas."

"I'm sorry you can't be at home with your folks, Lois. And if Superman were on line, I'd take you back--"

"Clark, I wouldn't be spending Christmas with my folks anyway," I hastily reassured him, before I realized I'd have to explain why.

"You would have spent Christmas alone?" he asked incredulously, and I winced a little at his tone. It felt like an accusation.

"My parents got divorced a long time ago, and the holidays are just... awkward for us. I usually try to work through them," I admitted sheepishly, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear nervously.

"Lois, when was the last time you spent Christmas with someone?" Clark asked in that warm, low voice that spoke to a part deep and vulnerable within me. I felt tears clog my throat and tried to avoid looking in his eyes. *Superman's eyes*, I reminded myself. He had enough compassion for the whole world, and when it was trained on me, I melted.

"Look, I don't want to talk about it, okay? Let's just do a simple Christmas. Maybe your folks will be back in time... The tree's decorated... and I--" I hesitated, about to tell him that I had a present I wanted to get ready for him. "Well, how do you feel about teaching me how to bake?"

"You, baking? This I gotta see," he teased.

"Okay, I admit I haven't a clue how to bake, but if you do... it might be fun," I said, tapping him in the shoulder with a light fist. It suddenly reminded me of his bullet wound, and my smile fell.

"What's wrong?"

"Your shoulder. That--bullet wound. How is it doing?"

He unbuttoned his top three buttons and showed me his shoulder. I caught a glimpse of the smooth plane of his chest, and tried to be clinical about it as I inspected where he had been shot. It was practically healed!

"Wait, does that mean your powers are coming back?"

"Yeah, but slowly," he said ruefully, as he shrugged back into his shirt. "I chopped some wood in the sun earlier and it felt like... I don't know. The sun seemed to make me feel better."

I studied him closely. "Do you think... the sun heals you somehow?"

He shook his head, buttoning his shirt back up. "I don't know. But, I feel better. And my heat vision almost started the fire this morning... so, at least I know they'll come back."

"Good. Because the world needs Superman..." *and so do I*, I finished silently.

"Oh, but Lois -- you still didn't tell me what you did with the green --the kryptonite. I need to know where it is so I can get rid of it."

"I sort of buried it in the snow," I said, knowing that wasn't a specific enough answer. "We'll have to wait for it to melt to know exactly where, I guess."

"Or until my powers come back. Do you know about where?"

"Just behind the barn, I think. What are you going to do with it?"

"I don't know. Throw it into the sun... bury it in the sea," he said with some relish. "Something. I just have to make sure it never gets into the wrong hands again."

I stared into my coffee mug, thinking. Superman had always been this godlike hero to me. I never could have imagined that he was my partner who fetched me coffee and tagged along on stakeouts. I never could have imagined there was something out there that could hurt him, either. It made me feel suddenly protective over him, and I worried about how Perry would read my story. Would he or our readers see between the lines to the truth? That there was something out there that could hurt Superman -- and my dear friend?

"Clark, how do you do it? How do you manage the balance between Clark and Superman?" I asked suddenly. "I always imagined that Superman had a life, I guess... I just never thought it might involve... chasing after stories with me," I admitted shyly. "Or how dangerous that balance is... I mean, if someone like Trask ever learned who you really are--"

He nodded, and I didn't have to finish. "That's exactly my fear, Lois. And why I didn't tell you," he said with a heavy sigh.

"Well, it's not like you can erase the knowledge from my brain... but I guess what I want to say is, I'm happy to carry the burden, Clark. And I promise to do all I can to protect it."

His hand reached out towards mine, and he gave me a smile. "I appreciate that, Lois. But I don't want to be a burden to you. It's the last thing I want... I don't know. There are times where I've thought of leaving Metropolis, and trying again somewhere else. But being Superman, working at the Planet, working with--you," he said, the last word sounding like an admission of something more. "I would miss those things. I always knew that a possible consequence of us working closely together would be that you would figure out my secret. I know you are an amazing investigative reporter, and I always feared, well, that you would learn the truth. What I hadn't counted on--" he paused, running his fingers through his hair nervously.

"Was us becoming friends?" I suggested, but I knew that wasn't quite right. I had sensed from both Clark and Superman on more than one occasion that he was attracted to me, just like I was to him. But was it more than that?

"Friends," he echoed the word, sounding unsure whether he liked it or not. "Yes, of course, friends... For a while, though, I wasn't sure you even liked me."

"I admit I was -- infatuated with Superman. And I'm deeply sorry for how I ignored you as Clark... even before I knew your secret, I knew I was--distancing myself, I guess."

He looked at me with curiosity. "Distancing?"

Now it was my turn to run my fingers through my hair nervously. I guess we had that in common. "Yeah..." I sat up straighter, determined to try to work this out with him. "I guess what I mean is, as a reporter, I assume everyone has an angle. And it bothered me that you never did. You were just -- nice. And I--well, I guess it made me nervous."

He chuckled. "How can someone being nice make you nervous, Lois?"

"Not just someone. You. A--gorgeous farm boy with impeccable manners, who was considerate to everybody... I just couldn't believe someone like that existed without an ulterior motive."

He smiled shyly in my direction, the truth slamming me in the chest again that my friend was Superman.

"So... now what do you think of me?" he asked, his face open and guileless.

I sighed. "I'm not sure..."

He dipped his head, and seemed to pull away from me. "Is it--because of the alien thing?" he choked out.

He looked so hurt and vulnerable, that I reached out and touched his arm. "Clark, how can you say that? You have to know... I never treated Superman differently because he was an alien, did I? And the fact that I know you are him, or he is you--" I shook my head. "I guess what I am trying to say, is it doesn't matter to me. I just want to understand you. The real you."

He glanced up at me, his eyes intent on me, as if working up the courage to say something.

"What is it?" I asked softly.

"Nothing," he said, suddenly moving off the sofa. "So, now that the heat is back on, you want to sleep in my old room?"

I felt as if something had shifted underneath me, though I couldn't articulate what it was. Clark had closed himself off to me, and I felt hurt because I couldn't think of what I had said that might have upset him. I had tried to be honest with him and that I wanted to understand him. Was that not what he had wanted to hear? Was he still afraid of the reporter in me?

I stood up awkwardly, feeling embarrassed as I gathered my laptop. "Sure. Thanks for the offer."

It was only around nine, but I got the distinct feeling I was being dismissed. I tried not to sound hurt as I headed up the stairs. "Goodnight, Clark."

***

As I entered the bedroom, I realized that I would have some time to myself to fix up Clark's old telescope. I didn't have any polish, of course, and I couldn't think of an excuse to give Clark to go trudging around outside in the barn looking for some either. But there was an old flannel shirt lying near the box that looked way past its prime, which I thought might do the trick -- at least to clean it.

I sat at Clark's desk and slowly started wiping away years of grime from the smooth, cool surfaces of the telescope. My thoughts started drifting as I worked, remembering when I had first met Clark and how I had completely misjudged him. I just hadn't trusted his good looks or his naive charm. And I realized that Superman had shown me some of those same qualities, and yet, I had immediately and implicitly trusted him. How could I have not seen that they were the same person?

The telescope was looking much better, and though I really had no experience with such things, I found this one fascinating. I suppose it was because it belonged to Clark. How often in his youth would he look through this telescope, wondering where he came from? What did he know about Krypton, and how did he learn the name of his home planet anyhow?

And why did it seem to me that while Clark being an alien explained a lot, I actually felt more comfortable with him? I had always been on the outside I suppose, in many ways. The pain of my broken family had pushed me to be ambitious and singular, in all its varied definitions. I wanted the singular achievement of a Kerth Award. I wanted the singular triumph of being the most successful reporter at the Daily Planet. I wanted the singular interview from the Man of Steel... and all these ambitions had left me singularly successful and yet also, singularly...single.

Not just in the sense that I didn't have many boyfriends, but even with my peers I had often been alone. No one had understood me until Clark came along. And despite how atrociously I had behaved, he had become my friend. And I have come to value that friendship above all else in my life.

I have dreamed of being the love of Superman's life, but I knew that loving him was pure fantasy, as he had seemed so unreachable and impossible to get close to. But Clark Kent was a real man --who happened to fly around in tights saving the world. Surely the real man underneath the suit wanted more? Wasn't that the reason he had donned the disguise in the first place? To have a life?

It made sense to me, but I knew only Clark himself could explain it to me. Yet he seemed reticent to divulge any more of his heart to me, fearful of the knowledge that I already possessed about him. How to earn his trust? How to show him that I cared about him -- that I --

"Love him?" I said aloud to the quiet solitude around me, those words sending a frisson of pleasure and fear through me. I had held back from Clark, and even attacked him, all in an effort to fight what I found admirable and attractive about him. But if we both laid our vulnerabilities on the table, could we find a way to each other?

*How does he feel about me?* I wondered. There was an attraction between us, sure. But Clark being Superman could complicate things. He had put upon himself a duty to help the people of the world, and maybe that didn't leave a place for someone to love... or could it mean that love could give him strength to continue doing what he did?

The telescope looked presentable now, and I sighed as I laid it back in the box, weary of my musings. I had felt something with Clark from the start, though had done my best to keep a wary distance. And I had thrown myself at Superman... if he felt something for me, I could only hope that we'd find a way to each other.

***

It was Christmas Eve morning... I stretched as I got out of bed, and could see the sun was reflecting brightly off the snow just outside the window. It was a golden white, as far as the eye could see... In Metropolis, I had only seen patches of white, like in Centennial Park. This expanse of it across the country horizon was entirely breathtaking.

I put on a robe and headed downstairs, my heart pounding at the thought of talking to Clark again. I wanted to tell him how I felt about him, but I was so nervous about how he'd interpret it. I had to prove to him that my feelings were genuine, and weren't simply a result of my Superman infatuation.

As I came into the living room, I didn't hear him in the house. "Clark?" I called out.

"Out here, Lois," came his reply from the front porch.

He was standing on the porch, his eyes closed, washed in the pale golden yellow of the early morning sun. When he heard me approach, he turned to look at me. "I don't know what it is, but the sun... it's like it is recharging me somehow."

"Are your powers back?" I asked gently, fascinated at seeing him standing with his shoulders thrust back in his t-shirt and sweatpants without his glasses, a mix of Clark and Superman.

He reached for his aforementioned glasses on a side table by the swing. "Yeah," he answered, putting them back on.

I let out a laugh, stating the obvious. "Clark, I know who you are. Why are you still wearing your glasses?"

He cleared his throat, "Lois... it's not just a disguise. The glass is made from lead so I don't accidentally use my powers as Clark... it's kinda like a safety on them."

"But you would never hurt anyone with your powers, not on purpose," I said assuredly.

"No, of course not," he bristled, seeming uncomfortable with the topic. "But I've worn them so long as Clark, that... I just feel more comfortable with them."

"I guess I can understand that," I responded, though I barely did understand. I wanted to, but I guess it is simply too difficult to fathom what it must be like for him on a daily basis. Perhaps I would never understand, but I was game to try. "So, are we going to do some baking today?" I smiled, hoping to lighten his mood.

"Sure. Let's have breakfast and get dressed... and then we'll make some famous Kent Christmas cookies."

Was it bad that I just wanted to see him in that adorable apron again and could give a fig about learning to cook?

"You're on, partner."

***

An hour later we were standing in his mom's kitchen. Clark, as advertised, was wearing the adorable apron and a tight black t-shirt. Seriously, my partner should come with a warning label, he looked so delectable.

Every time he brushed by me, my heart went into my throat, and what was more surprising, was that this actually was not a new occurrence. I had just never paid attention to it before. I had so suppressed my attraction to Clark, afraid of getting too close to him --and if I am honest, afraid of him breaking my heart -- that though I had felt those jolts of attraction before, I had always chosen to ignore them.

And though I now acknowledge that I was attracted to him, I knew that he could still reject me, or say that being Superman didn't allow him to have a relationship with anybody. Or any number of things... but I knew he felt something for me. There is absolutely something there, and I felt desperate to explore it.

I watched him expertly crack half a dozen eggs into a bowl.

"Grab the flour and sugar in the cabinet, would you?" he asked casually, turning the knobs to preheat the oven.

I got both and returned to where the bowl of eggs was lying on the counter.

"I can't believe you've never baked cookies before, Lois," he said, clearly amused.

"Well, I mean, I've tried... they just usually don't turn out so well..." I admitted, remembering several failed baking attempts, usually around the holidays. I'd either burn them or not add the right amount of ingredients. Sometimes I'd manage to make a batch that was salvageable, but more often than not, I'd end up getting store-bought cookies.

"Well, the secret is having the right balance of ingredients... and timing." I watched as he measured out the flour and sugar and then tossed the ingredients into a bowl.

"Don't you need a mixer?" I asked, happy to prove my competence by pointing out a fact that he had missed a step.

He glanced over at me with a smile, and winked at me. I was so distracted by that little charming move, that I almost missed his hand in the bowl, mixing the ingredients himself with his super speedy finger.

"Isn't that kinda... messy?" I said, not sure how I felt about his um, technique.

"No, my hands are clean. And it is a lot more efficient than using a mixer. I can easily tell when the batter is ready. Okay... did you grease the cookie sheet?"

Oh, right... my one task. I handed him the greased sheet. "Lois, I told you it needed an even coating," he chided gently. He took out the Crisco tub once again and a paper towel, folding the towel and dipping it into the grease. "Like this. You have to cover the whole sheet, or you'll end up with some less than perfect cookies."

"Heaven forbid," I grumbled at Mr. Perfect, enjoying him enjoying teasing me.

He chuckled, a warm sound that reached in and squeezed my heart. "Sorry. You do want to learn how to make cookies the right way, don't you?"

"Fine, Clark. I get it. The whole sheet needs to be greased. What's next?" *And do you know that I am totally in love with you and I don't care one whit about learning to bake cookies?* I stood next to him, with my arms crossed, almost afraid I'd reach out and grab onto him and never let go. Emotions were roiling in my heart, but I knew now wasn't the time to deal with them. I just needed to try and relax and enjoy hanging out with Clark. The rest would come...at least I hoped so.

Clark breathed some Superman arctic breath over the dough, casually commenting. "You usually have to chill the dough for an hour. But with a bit of super breath, we are ready to move on to the fun part," he grinned, handing me some cookie cutters. "I'll roll out the dough, and then you can cut them into these little shapes, okay?"

"I think I can handle that."

I watched as he rolled out the dough, the ripple of his biceps endlessly fascinating to me. I thought of how strong he could be as Superman, and yet how gentle as Clark. The contrasts were amazing, and yet, I realized the balance of how to be gentle versus when to use his powers had been instilled in him growing up on this farm, learning to do chores and helping his mother bake cookies. His parents had taught him so much, and I believed his innate goodness had only enhanced those lessons. I felt my throat go tight watching him, either with awe or love, I wasn't sure.

As we made cookies, I was able to banter and tease with him verbally, but inside, I wondered if he could sense what was going on. My heart was pounding every time I was near him, or when we would brush past one another. He'd glance at me, and I could swear he saw more than just my cooking mistakes. His eyes seemed to soften, and then he'd make an easy comment about how to get more cookies out of the batter or something.

I realized after about the second batch of cookies, with the warm sugary smells lingering in the air, that he was being this way on purpose. He was essentially trying to make me comfortable and perhaps even to forget about Superman for a while. He seemed to sense that I was stressing over the whole thing. Perhaps he thought I was worried about knowing his secret. He had no idea that I was just -- completely in love with him.

I knew then that I had to tell him. He had to know how I felt. He had to know that I didn't think of his secret as a burden, but as a cherished honor. I would do anything for Clark, and I needed him to know that.

A few hours later, we sat listening to Christmas carols on the radio eating cookies and milk companionably.

"You make it look so easy," I said, dipping another cookie into my milk glass. "I don't think I could cook these half as well in my kitchen back in Metropolis. I'd never remember all the steps."

"Well, I can help you make them anytime you want," he answered generously, and I suddenly had an image of him in his tights and cape baking cookies. It made me smile.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing... just, you are full of surprises, Clark Kent." I had meant it as a compliment, seeing as how I had repeatedly stated in the past that he was like an open book. But somehow I had made him uncomfortable. "I just mean... I wish I had taken the time before, to learn who you are. I mean, not just about Superman--" I sighed in frustration, feeling like I couldn't get the words right. "I mean you. You are a really, really...nice guy, Clark."

My words weren't adequate, and I found it ironic that while being a wordsmith was my job, when I needed to express what was deep in my heart, words were failing me. I looked down at my plate, just full of crumbs now.

"I appreciate that, Lois." He said it in soft tones, his warm brown eyes trained on me. But I felt some distance, like he meant it as a friend. And I realized my words had sounded like someone who wanted to be his friend, too. But I wanted so much more. I just didn't know how to tell him.

"The cookies were really good," I said to fill the silence.

"Well, you helped. Here, I'll take care of the dishes." I handed him my plate and watched him head into the kitchen.

I was feeling so silly, and so uncertain as to where we stood. Partners. Friends. Secret keepers. Those were all important words. They meant varying levels of trust and friendship. But the word that I wanted for us-- relationship? Dating? Lovers?—was still elusive. I felt in my heart that there was something strong between us, but I worried that my own behavior and Clark's seeming reluctance to trust me, would keep those labels at bay.

Let's face it. I had never been good at relationships anyway. My last one had been a federal disaster with Claude. I had let him walk all over me, swept up by his European charm. And I never had really learned to open up to anyone. Even the men I had slept with, they only knew a small side of me. I realize now that Clark was the first man to ever try to get to know the real me. And yet, my armor of sarcasm and insults had perhaps ruined any real chance I had had to be with him.

I heard the porch door close and immediately called out Clark's name. It was dark out now, and we had plenty of firewood in the house. What could he be doing?

I went into the kitchen and peered out the back window. I saw Clark, a shadow on the snow, heading towards the barn. His head was lowered, and I wondered if he was x-raying the snow to find the buried kryptonite. Why he wanted to deal with that now was beyond me.

I saw him trip, and he called out my name.

I didn't hesitate, but ran to the hall closet to get my coat and a flashlight, and scurried down the snowy steps.

"Clark! What is it?" I called, running across the lawn to him.

"The kryptonite... was it sealed in the box when you buried it?"

I tried to think back, to remember that awful night. "I--I'm not sure, why?"

"Because I can feel it is nearby..." His gaze shifted across the yard, and he nodded his head towards the right of the barn. "And I can see it over there, under the snow. The lid is slightly open."

I glanced over to where he was looking, but I couldn't see anything. "What do you want me to do?"

"Get the shovel in the barn. I need you to dig it up, close the lid, and I'll dispose of it."

"Why do we have to take care of it tonight, Clark? Why not deal with it in the morning, when we can -- I can see better?"

He looked at me, his voice sounding apologetic in the cold night air. "I haven't slept well, knowing it's out here," he said quietly. "Please, Lois. For me?"

"OK, sure, Clark," I said, suddenly hating Trask all over again for torturing Clark with that rock to begin with. Of course Clark was worried about it. I had put it out of my mind, occupied with other things, and I suddenly felt selfish for not realizing that just having the kryptonite nearby had to be a mental stress on Clark.

I headed into the barn to get a shovel. No matter how irrational the fear, I kept expecting Trask to pop out at any second. I whipped my flashlight around the barn, fearing the shadows I lit upon, searching for the shovel. When I found it, I quickly headed back over to where Clark was standing.

"I can't get any closer, or I'll start to feel the effects of the kryptonite. I'll be your eyes, okay?"

I nodded and followed his instructions until I came to be standing right over the spot where I had buried the kryptonite. I shoveled away some snow, and sure enough, I saw the eerie green glow staring back at me. I leaned down and immediately closed the lid, horrified that I had been so careless. Clark was suddenly at my side, as Superman.

"Thanks, Lois. I'm going to take care of this. Go on back in the house... I'll be back as soon as I can," he said, automatically slipping into his more authoritative voice.

He took the lead box and flew off into the night sky. I looked up into the vast heavens, lit by a million stars, but he was already gone.

But I wasn't worried. I knew he'd be back soon.

***

I went back in the house, curious as to what Clark would do with the kryptonite. He had seemed almost desperate to get rid of it. What must it be like for him to be so powerful and yet know that a tiny stone can rob him of that strength?

To have something to do while I waited for him to return, I began to do the dishes. I swear I haven't done so many domestic chores in the last few years as I have over the last few days. I usually just fill up the dishwasher over about a week -- seeing as how most of my cooking involves reheating takeout -- and then run the dishwasher. But out here I didn't mind it too much. It felt so homey and comfortable in Martha Kent's kitchen, and I enjoyed embracing that warmth.

As I put the last pan away, I wondered what was taking Clark so long to return. I turned on the TV, hoping to see some news about Superman helping out somewhere, which would explain his delay. But there wasn't a mention of him on any channel. I knew I shouldn't worry about him, but knowing it was just Clark under the suit made me more concerned about what could be taking him so long. He seemed so much more vulnerable to me now.

But while he was gone, it would give me a chance to do some snooping around for wrapping paper. Thankful to have electricity once again, I turned on practically every light in the house, and began searching high and low for Christmas supplies.

I finally came across some in the upstairs hall closet. There was a box full of ribbons, paper, tape, and a pair of scissors. I selected what I needed to wrap Clark's present and got to work.

The telescope looked beautiful, now that I had shined it up. I hoped that Clark would appreciate the gesture, and not see it as some sort of invasion of privacy. The awkward round shape of the telescope made wrapping it difficult, though the end product looked pretty good. One could see the many messy folds I had made in the gold and red paper I had selected, but I took a creamy velvet bow, and tied it around the middle to cover up my sloppy handy work.

"There. All ready for Christmas," I said, gathering up the remainder of the supplies to put them back.

I heard the back porch door slam shut, and felt myself jump despite myself. "Clark?" I called down the stairs, the ribbons and paper still in my arms.

I didn't hear a reply, and suddenly became nervous, wondering if it was one of Trask's stray goons. I shoved the remaining Christmas supplies in the hall closet, and looked for a weapon in case my fears were founded.

All I came across was a spare curtain rod, but it was better than nothing. I edged my way down the stairs, fearing every little creak I heard on the old wooden steps. My heart was pounding, as many horrific scenarios played out in my head.

I made it down the stairs and slowly headed into the kitchen, the rod held in my hands like a baseball bat. I came to stand next to the doorway, afraid to peek in, lest someone was about to pounce on me first.

Slowly, with my rod still raised, I leaned in to see what was around the corner.

There was no bad man ready to make me his hostage, as I had feared. No goon lurked in the kitchen, ready to attack me. I recognized that I was still traumatized after our brush with Trask. The rod fell out of my hands, and I let out an involuntary gasp at the scene before me.

Superman was seated at the kitchen table, his head in his hands, with his majestic cape sweeping down behind him. The kitchen light above him shone like a sort of simple halo, casting a soft glow over my weary hero. He didn't look up at my entrance, and I thought I saw his shoulders shake.

"Sup--Clark?" I asked gently, coming to sit across from him. "Are you okay?"

"I--" he looked up suddenly, and I saw a deep pain in his eyes, a look I had never seen in him before. He looked as if he had been crying. " I couldn't save them all, Lois... those... children..."

My hands reached across the table to him, and he quickly grasped on to them. I caught the faint whiff of smoke on his clothes, and noticed smudges of soot on his uniform. He bowed his head once more, and I sensed that he was trying to gather himself. I sat there, watching him, appreciating that if I was to mean more to Clark, I needed to be his strength now. I didn't know what solace I could offer, but I would be there for him, however he'd let me be.

"I took the kryptonite, and dropped it into the deepest part of the Indian Ocean... " he eventually said. "I watched it for longer than I needed to, seeing it fall deeper and deeper into the cavernous sea... just wanting it to disappear forever." He sighed and looked up at me, his face a calm facade. "I don't have to tell you all of it, Lois. I'll be all right----I –just need a minute."

I suddenly realized that he had done this many times, that a distant coolness was coming over his features. In the past I had always assumed that look was one of indifference, trying to hide how he felt about me. I felt myself blush in shame, finally grasping how often that look had probably been a result of some harrowing rescue that he just absrbed the pain of on his own; grieved for, on his own. Perhaps in the past, he had come to my apartment to check on me or tease me, only to fly away to wherever and grieve, like I saw him doing now.

But I didn't want him to feel alone anymore. I didn't want him to shut me out.

I got up and walked around the table and sat next to him. Gently, I touched his shoulder. "Clark, it's okay. Tell me what happened."

I heard the wind whistle through the screen porch door, feeling the cold air pour in. I glanced over and saw that it had started to snow again. Quietly I closed the door, giving Clark a moment to gather his thoughts. I sat down again next to him, waiting for him to speak.

"I was heading home, towards China. I thought I might stop in Shanghai for that really good Chinese food you liked."

That stopped me in my tracks a second. I remembered the Chinese food he had bought, a few days after he had started work at the Planet. It had been divine, and I had pestered him for days after to tell me where he had gotten it. Son of a gun... It had been Chinese food from -- China.

"I had felt so relieved and well, happy to be rid of the kryptonite, that I thought I'd earned a lazy flight home. So I slowed down, and then my super hearing kicked in. There was a fire. At an orphanage in Bangkok. I--flew as fast as I could, Lois. But I wasn't fast enough. The fire had started in the middle of the day, when most of the administrators were out to lunch. But there were classrooms full of children, that had no idea what was going on. There was no alarm to warn them..."

Sometime during his explanation, he had reached for my hand again. He squeezed it gently now, and looked in my eyes, perhaps needing to convince himself that he was all right.

"I helped where I could... but half of the orphanage was already on fire... several of the classrooms there were--" he couldn't speak, but I could tell from his distress what had happened to the children in those classrooms.

"But you did save some of them, didn't you?" I asked softly.

He nodded. "Yeah... about fifty kids, and three teachers. But the rest, Lois... I -- just wasn't fast enough."

I saw a bit of soot on his cheek, and I tentatively reached out to wipe it off. "Clark, you did what you could, and that is so much more than most people could have done. You can't beat yourself up about it. I bet those people that you saved are so grateful... remember, it's important to do what you can. You only fail if you don't try."

His eyes never left mine, and for the first time since he got back, I saw just the barest ghost of a smile. "When did you become so wise, Lois?"

I felt surprised by the compliment. "It's how I keep myself going as a reporter. I know I can't fix all the world's ills. But I do what I can. *We* do what we can," I said, giving him a slight nudge. "I tell you what, why don't we write a story about this orphanage in the Planet? Perhaps we can get some public outcry about the lack of alarms in the orphanage, and perhaps get them some charity money to help them rebuild?"

He nodded, seeming to warm to my idea. "Yes, and actually, I have been thinking of setting up a foundation... I get offered money now and then for my work as Superman, and I just never know what to do with it. Perhaps this could be the impetus to start one. And we can use the Planet to announce the plans to the world."

I smiled at him, admiring his heart and his courage.

His eyes rested on mine, and for the first time, I felt his guard slip away. His eyes became tender, and he reached to cup my cheek. "Lois...thank you," he said simply.

"What for? I didn't do anything," I answered, feeling those butterflies kick up a whirlwind in my stomach at his touch.

"You did... you gave me hope. Some way to make something good out of a bad situation. Thank you."

"Clark, you give me hope every day," I said, my heart in my throat. "And I don't mean just as Superman. That's the obvious one."

"What do you mean, Lois?" he asked, his voice sounding careful and guarded.

I sighed. It was now or never. "Clark, you give me hope that maybe there really are still journalists out there who want the truth as much as I do," I said, taking his hand on my cheek and holding it in my own. "You give me hope that there are still nice guys out there in the world... that maybe everyone doesn't have a hidden agenda," I said, my words becoming softer as my throat tightened with inexplicable tears. "Clark, somewhere along the way... I think I fell in love with you."

There. The words were out. I felt on the verge of tears and as if my heart were about to explode. I needed a positive response from him, as I didn't know if I could survive his doubt of my true feelings.

"Clark, say something, please," I whispered.

Instead, he cupped my head, bringing me close to him. His eyes locked with mine, and I suddenly knew... it was going to be all right. He felt the same way about me. My fear about him worrying that I loved only Superman suddenly became moot. He could see right into the very soul of me, and I suspected, he always had.

I closed my eyes, just as our lips met. I melted into his embrace, surrendering all that I was to him, and I felt his love in equal measure.

I had kissed Clark on several occasions, almost all of which had been under some sort of duress. And while I had secretly acknowledged to myself that Clark was a good kisser, nothing compared to this roiling feeling of total trust and surrender.

There were no more secrets between us.

I couldn't have been more terrified and yet so free...

I loved Clark, and he loved me.

***

Sometime later, Clark changed out of his Superman uniform and we snuggled up to a fire, listening to Christmas carols.

We shared stories about childhood Christmases, and while his were nigh on idyllic, mine were fraught with family arguments and dysfunctional get-togethers. For each story Clark told of simple Christmases on the farm, I tried to search for a Christmas that could even hold a candle to his, and I failed miserably every time. When I pointed that out to him, he seemed shocked.

"Lois, it isn't a contest. I'm just happy to share memories with you."

"It's just that your Christmases all sound so homey and wonderful, and I--every year it has always just been an effort to get through the holiday."

He turned to me, laying a hand gently on my shoulder. "Lois, then we'll just have to make new and better memories."

There was that frisson again, making my stomach flip. "Does that mean you might want to spend more than one Christmas with me?"

His arm moved down to grab my hand, securely cradled in his. "Lois, I suppose I should say it. You were brave enough to tell me how you feel... " He took off his glasses, holding them in his hands. "These represent my disguise, my fears, but also my hopes... to have a normal life, to be--loved as a normal man. Lois, you know more about me than probably even my parents do. I trust you with my secret, and I trust you with my heart. I love you, Lois. I always have... always will."

"Really? You've always loved me?"

He nodded, slipping the glasses back on. "Crazy right?" he laughed ruefully. "But there was something about you, from the moment you burst into Perry's office my first day at the Planet... I just knew..."

This thrilled me beyond measure, solidifying in my mind and my heart that Superman had always belonged to me, as selfish as that thought was. But it was the vulnerable man that I was drawn to now. I thought of how he always looked after me, in both of his guises, and how the truth had been there all along, if I only had been brave enough to see it.

"Must be love, Clark... Cause I was a world class--itch to you, on more than one occasion," I said ruefully, scooting closer to cup his cheek in my hand. "I hope you'll let me make it up to you."

"We've got all the time in the world, Lois. I can't think of a better Christmas present than hearing you say you love me."

I brought his face closer to mine, gently set aside his glasses, and held his face in my hands. "I love you," I whispered, kissing his cheek. "I love you," I said again, kissing his other one. "I love you," I whispered a third time, almost as if under a trance, and kissed him on the lips. "Merry Christmas, Clark."

***

We fell asleep on the sofa, wrapped in each other's embrace. We had kissed and talked into the early hours of the morning, neither of us wanting to part the other's company to head upstairs to bed.

I lay pillowed on his chest...one I had often admired in the blue spandex and had had the luck to peek at once, when he had first moved to Metropolis. I couldn't believe that my dream man was really that -- a dream, and a man...

"Merry Christmas, Lois," he whispered, nudging me more fully awake.

"Christmas morning!" I suddenly squealed like a kid, like I hadn't done in years. I scrambled off my very cozy place next to Clark and dived upstairs to his room to fetch his present.

"Lois, where are you going?" he called after me, laughter in his voice.

I bounded down the stairs a few moments later, a wide grin on my face, holding out his present. "Open it! Open it!"

"Lois, you didn't have to--"

I shook my head and shoved the present into his hands. "Of course I had to. Just open it, okay?"

He took the present and made a show of shaking it and feeling the paper, though I thought he probably already knew what it was. When he opened it, he let out a long sigh, heavy with memories.

"Lois, where did you find this?" he asked quietly, turning it over in his hands as he inspected it. "It looks in much better condition than I remember last seeing it."

"Don't be mad... I did a little snooping upstairs. I couldn't help myself, Clark... And well, it just seemed like it had been well used and therefore well loved, and I -- I just wanted to do something for you."

He looked down the lens, pulling it out to its full length. "I got interested in astronomy when I was about ten... I had no idea then where I came from. But there was something about the stars, that drew me towards them... I wonder now, if I had been searching for home."

"Then, you aren't mad that went through your things?" I couldn't resist asking.

"Lois, I know you pretty well. I actually expected you go snooping in my room..." he answered wryly, the melancholy look of a moment ago all but vanished. "Thank you for reminding me about this... and for cleaning it up. Perhaps we can have a look at the stars together sometime?"

"I'd love that."

The front door suddenly opened. "Merry Christmas everybody!" said Mr. Kent, wearing a Santa hat.

"Dad! I wasn't sure if you guys would make it back today," Clark said, heading to the door to help his parents with their luggage.

"Well, the snow is melting, and we got an early flight back from Wichita," said Mrs. Kent. "Hello, Lois. I guess you survived a few days out here after all? Clark take good care of you?" she said, glancing between the two of us. I swore she could tell something had shifted between me and Clark, but we just stood there, unsure of where to begin.

"Um, yeah... kind of. It's a long story, Mom. I'll tell you and Dad all about it."

***

Clark may be able to fly, but I was amazed at how quickly Martha Kent was able to whip up a Christmas dinner. Within minutes of arriving, she had basted a turkey and was peeling potatoes. Clark and I helped -- well, Clark helped. I handed things to people now and then, and helped Clark recount our misadventures with Trask.

"So... that's how Lois found out I'm Superman... and now--" he glanced over at me, his gaze warming me to my toes. "We're closer than ever before."

Martha stopped her multitasking of chopping onions and checking the turkey to look at us. "I can see that... I'm happy for you two. And I'm glad you get to spend Christmas with us, selfish as that sounds. I'm sure you'd rather be with your family?"

Clark tried to ward off the comment, but I patted his arm, letting him know it was okay. "Trust me, Martha. I'd much rather be here with you guys. My family is a bit of a mess... especially around the holidays."

Martha gave me a sympathetic smile. "Aw, well then I'm glad you are spending Christmas with us... Clark honey, could you set the table? We won't eat for a few hours yet, but I like to have everything ready."

***

Hours later, we were all sitting around the Christmas tree, sated from a fantastic meal. I was still in awe of how Martha had whipped it up out of little more than thin air and a few groceries, but I certainly appreciated it.

We learned that Jonathan might need a bypass surgery, and that he had to watch his diet. So Martha had fixed him a very meager plate, with very little butter. Clark seemed worried about his father's health, but I knew that Superman would see that he got the best care in the world.

Martha and Jonathan headed into the kitchen to clean up, leaving Clark and I to our own devices in the living room.

We sat close to one another, holding hands and enjoying the soft sounds of old Christmas classics. Bing Crosby was crooning White Christmas on the radio, and I couldn't believe how relaxed I felt. It was more than the tryptophan in the turkey, that was for sure.

I just couldn't believe how far we had come in such a short amount of time... I was almost thankful for Trask putting us through that hell! Without his intervention, how many lonely months would Clark and I have spent, dancing around our feelings for each other?

"Hey, you want to take a look at my telescope? I think the sky should be pretty clear tonight," he whispered in my hair.

"Mmm... sure. But I feel so comfortable where I am now. Clark, I don't think I ever want to leave your parents' place," I admitted, voicing a tiny fear that things might change once we returned to Metropolis.

"I admit, that despite the mess with Trask, this has been an --enlightening, shall we say? -- couple of days."

"Yeah, it has... Clark, we haven't even gone on a first date yet. Aren't we doing this a little backwards, confessing our I-love-yous way up front," I said lightly, though secretly I was worried about how we would go on from here.

"Then we'll remedy that when we get back. How about a date for New Year's?"

I smiled, imagining him in a classy tux, and us dancing in some upscale club in downtown Metropolis. "Could be fun." I started to scoot myself out of my cozy nook under his arm. "All right. So now that that's settled, how about we take a look at this telescope?"

We headed out to the front porch, the night sky blanketing Smallville with a perfect mantle of diamonds, scattered as far as the eye could see.

"Well, we couldn't have picked a better night," I said, shivering despite my winter coat. Clark noticed my shiver and pulled his glasses down his nose. I suddenly felt toasty all over. "Wait... was that your--buzz buzz?" I asked, gesturing towards his eyes.

"'Buzz buzz?'" he laughed. "You mean my heat vision? Yeah. Do you feel warmer?"

"Actually, I do. Thanks."

Clark had dug out an old tripod that I had failed to find in my fortuitous expedition through his belongings. He set the telescope on it, and adjusted the settings, aiming at heaven knew what. The sky was filled with stars tonight... any one of them would be magnificent under the telescope, I imagined.

"There it is..." he said finally, gesturing for me to have a look.

I peered into the telescope, but all I could see were a bunch of stars, some brighter than others. "What am I looking at, Clark?"

"Do you see the three brighter stars, that sort of form a triangle?"

It took some searching and focusing on my part, but I eventually spotted them. "Uh huh."

"And to the left of them, some lesser stars, but all together they sort of form a kite shape?"

"Oh yeah... "

"That's Libra."

"Wait, is this an astronomy or an astrology lesson?" I asked, glancing up from the telescope.

"Both," he smiled back. "Libra means balance... I know it's your star sign, and I think it makes a whole lot of sense... because you--you bring balance to my life, Lois."

I stopped caring about the stars, suddenly more enthralled with the man before me who had so captured my heart and my imagination. That I could mean so much to him, knowing what he meant to me -- well, it stole my breath.

I threw myself in his arms, and he caught me, as I knew he would. As I knew he always would.

"Just when I don't think it's possible to think you are more amazing, you surprise me. Every time," I whispered.

"Well, then I hope you are ready for one more surprise, Lois. Because I haven't given you your Christmas present yet."

I stifled a giggle. "You have a present for me, more amazing than what we've already shared?"

"Hold on," he said softly, and suddenly, we were floating.

We floated up above the farmhouse, and then even higher, until it felt like we could reach right out and touch any star in the sky.

"Usually when we fly together, it's because I'm rescuing you from some crazy bad guy... I wanted to take you up here... just us... with no pressing crisis to attend to, no article to write... I just wanted to show you this."

We floated even higher, high above the landscape. The universe seemed massive and extraordinary, a shimmering sea of light above us. "It's so beautiful," I whispered, completely in awe.

"I used to come up here a lot by myself and just... drift. Not part of the stars, not part of the Earth. Not knowing where I fit in... till I met you."

"Oh Clark... I love you so much... and I want you to know, you are not alone anymore. I'll always be there for you."

"I know, Lois... I love you too. And perhaps, that is best gift we can give each other this Christmas, and all the many more to come... because, my love won't change. It is more constant than the stars... I promise you, Lois."

He cradled me close to him, and we drifted in an endless sea of stars.

I had been determined not to let Clark into my life, let alone my heart. But now that he was there, I realized, he was my balance too. I needed his constancy, just as he needed mine.

I hadn't understood Clark Kent when I met him, too wrapped up in my own insecurities to recognize his guileless love. For it had been there, since the beginning, despite all my faults, despite all my defenses.

My best friend, my hero.

We were more now, stronger together than we ever were alone.

The labels didn't matter, because I knew we were everything to each other.

Friends. Partners. And so much more.

THE END

Happy Holidays, everyone!

On the boards, ViriginaR had offered up a holiday recipe for sugar cookies. She generously gave me permission to include the recipe with my story. So, enjoy!

HOLIDAY SUGAR COOKIES

From C&H Sugar

*Ingredients*

1 Cup Unsalted Butter (2 sticks), softened

1 Cup Granulated (White) Sugar

2 Eggs

1 tsp Vanilla

3 Cups all-purpose Flour

1/2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

In large bowl, beat butter and sugar until fluffy. Beat in eggs and vanilla. Combine flour, soda and salt; stir into sugar mixture. Divide into two equal-sized disks, place in plastic wrap and chill 30 minutes. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

On flour covered board, working with one disk at a time, roll out dough to 1/8 inch thickness. Cut out stars, snowflakes and other shapes. Place cookie shapes 1 inch apart on cookie sheet. Bake 5 to 8 minutes until lightly browned. After cooling, decorate with icing and sugar crystals.

Makes 3 to 4 dozen (depending on size of shapes).

*Virginia's Notes: Cookies also taste good unfrosted. If using salted butter, only add 1/2 tsp of salt. I've also made dropped cookies with this dough, omitting the chilling time and rolling each cookie ball in white sugar before placing them on a cookie pan. Bake in the 375 degrees F for roughly 8-10 minutes.*

ROYAL ICING

This icing will air dry for decorated cookies and isn't sticky (after drying). I use (clean) craft brushes then to decorate the cookies. Lots of fun for the kids.

*Ingredients*

4 Cups Powdered Sugar, sifted

1/2 Cup Water

1/4 Cup Meringue Powder

1 tsp Vanilla

In large glass or metal bowl, beat all ingredients at high speed to 10 minutes, or until very stiff.

Hints: Use immediately. Keep covered with a damp cloth or with plastic wrap to prevent drying. Thin with a few drops of water or thicken with additional powered sugar.

Serving size: Makes 3-1/2; Cups.

*Virginia's Notes: Follow the recipe for the icing. It will get a little thinner when liquid food coloring is added. If it gets a little hard in the bowl, just add water to thin. This recipe makes A LOT of icing, so often I only make half... or end up throwing out extra icing after the cookies are iced. It's good to make a full batch, so that you can make a variety of colors to decorate with.*

Bon appetit!

The following story –

“Sold to the Highest Bidder”

by – RodStewFan

was Nominated in the:

Best Super Short Story

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

SOLD! To the Highest Bidder

By RodStewFan <rodstewfan79@gmail.com>

Rated PG-13

Submitted: July 2013

Summary: Superman gets an unexpected surprise when he doesn't read the small print.

Author's Note: Just a bit of fluff that I have had rattling in my head for ages. None of the characters are mine as it is a crossover with another show, but I don't want to say which one here as it will kinda give the story away.

***

Lois came down the stairs and into the kitchen where Clark sat at the table, reading the *Planet* and drinking coffee. She gave him a quick kiss.

"Morning," she said with a contented smile.

"Mmm morning." He smiled back. "Who was on the phone?"

"My mother. She says we haven't been to see them, and expects us for dinner."

"Okay. When?"

"Tonight."

"Honey, I can't go tonight."

"What do you have, a ribbon-cutting ceremony in Timbuktu?"

"No, I've cut down on my Superman appearances. This is a bachelor auction for the Metropolis Children's Home."

"You're *not* a bachelor," Lois reminded him, putting her hands on her hips.

"It's not me, it's Superman, and I had this booked before we were married."

"We were engaged for a year. How long have you had this booked?"

"Lois, it's just a dinner."

"Is this the confirmation letter?" Lois picked up a letter from the table and looked at it. "Err... honey, have you read this?"

"I glanced at it. I've done this every year since I came to Metropolis."

"You know you're right. It's for the kids, and I trust you. Actually, I might attend myself. I have a friend on the Board."

"Lois, you can't bid on me after the Goode scandal. We don't want to fan the flames."

"I can't afford you," she said with a wink. "I'll call Mother to postpone and make dinner for the two of us another night. Mother also asked when we're going to make her a grandmother."

Clark stood up and kissed her neck, causing shivers to run down her spine. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, giving him better access to her neck.

"Tell her... we're... working... on it... that... I am... putting... all my... effort... into... knocking... up... her... daughter."

"Clark!" Lois gasped at his crude statement, but grinned. "We'll be late for work," she said in a halfhearted protest to get him to stop, but her hands were already undoing his pants.

"I think we should give it another bash."

Before Lois knew it, Clark had spun them and she was naked underneath her husband who was just as naked.

"Oh, Clark!" Lois moaned. They had been married nearly eight months, but their passion for each other still hadn't cooled.

***

Later that evening, Lois stood in the ballroom of the Metropolis Regent Hotel. Other than the odd server, she was the only female in the room. There were about ten men with numbers pinned to their tuxedo jackets. Clark entered wearing his Superman uniform. He had a '1' pinned to his 'S'. Lois smiled at him as he approached her. There was something about her smile that unnerved him. It was as if she knew something that he didn't and was enjoying it.

"Hello, Lois," he said in his usual formal voice that he used when they were in public under the Superman guise.

"Hello, Superman," she said just as formal, but still with that all-knowing grin.

*Why is she so calm about this?* Clark thought.

"You nervous?" she asked.

"No. But I'm a little confused."

"What about?"

"Well, there aren't any women here other than you."

Lois looked around and pretended to look surprised. "Huh, you're right."

A tall dark-haired man approached them. "Lois Lane," he said and hugged Lois.

Superman folded his arms across his chest, and Lois could practically feel the jealousy radiating from him.

"Or is it Kent now?" the man continued.

"No, it's still Lane, professionally anyway." Lois smiled at this handsome stranger. "Superman, Will Truman. Will, Superman. Will's family and mine go way back. He's responsible for tonight's auction," she explained.

"Thank you for agreeing to do this, Superman."

"Will, Will, Will!" An energetic brunette man came running over to them. He appeared to be of the same age as Lois and Clark, but he had the energy of a three-year-old on a sugar rush and the attention span of a puppy.

"What, Jack?!" Will snapped.

"I'm not so sure this is such a good idea. I mean, what if a riot breaks out because everyone is bidding on me? Whoa, Superman! Hel--*lo,*" The last word was drawn out and Jack offered his hand in the same way a woman would hold out her hand when being helped out of a car.

Superman shook it.

Lois had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, seeing the confused look on Superman's face.

"Jack, why don't you show Superman through to the waiting area?" Will suggested.

"My pleasure." Jack gave Superman a flirty smile and hooked his arm through Superman. "Ooh! Someone has been working out."

Superman looked back at Lois as Jack whisked him away.

"I was surprised that Superman agreed to do this. I just assumed he was straight, but then the outfit should've been a clue," Will said.

"Well, if there is one thing I know definitely about Superman is that he's full of surprises." She smiled.

"So, your hunky husband isn't with you?"

"No, he had a prior engagement."

"Would you like a flirtini?" He grabbed two pink drinks in martini glasses off a tray from a passing waiter and handed one to Lois.

"Oh, no. I'm not drinking at the moment."

"Are you pregnant?" Will asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Not yet, but we've only been trying two months. Omph!"

A tall woman with a mass of dark red hair bumped into Lois. "Oh, sorry," the woman apologised.

"Grace!? What are you doing here?" Will asked in an annoyed tone. "Lois Lane, Grace Adler. Grace is my roommate."

"Hi. Ooh, flirtini." She took the drink that Will had offered to Lois.

"Grace, what are you doing here?" Will repeated in the same annoyed tone.

"I've come to show support for the kids. I heard Superman was up first."

"It's a gay auction."

Just then, a small dark-haired woman, who radiated power, came up to the auctioneer lectern. Will and Grace were still arguing in loud whispers, oblivious to Lois standing by them and uncomfortable at the situation.

"HEY! WILMA! GRACELESS WANNA KEEP IT DOWN! Thank you. First up, it's Metropolis's very own superhero: SUPERMAN. Yay!" The woman at the lectern clapped her hands, bouncing up and down like an overexcited child as Superman walked onto the stage. "Oooh, that suit doesn't leave much to the imagination now, does it fellas?" She laughed and smacked him on the bottom. "Okay, let's get this ball rolling. I bid $500,000. Going once! Going twice! Sold! Happy birthday, Jackie. Smitty, scotch and make it a triple." She walked off the stage to the bar, and a gleeful Jack jumped on stage to take Superman's arm.

***

Lois was ready for bed when Clark landed on their balcony. He looked a bit dishevelled and capeless. Lois fought the urge to laugh, but failed miserably.

"I'm glad you find it funny," Clark said, looking at his giggling wife. "Did you know that it was a gay auction?"

"*I* read the letter Clark," she said, getting her laughter under control. "Where's your cape?"

"Jack asked if he could try it on."

"He wouldn't give it back?"

"I didn't want it back. He wasn't wearing anything else."

This renewed Lois's giggles and she collapsed on the bed, imagining Clark having to fight off Jack. She had met Jack a couple of times when she had gone to functions with Will and thought he could have given Cat a run for her money in the man-eating race.

"LOIS! It isn't funny," Clark scolded, crossing his arms and giving her an intense Superman glare.

"You... can't... see... it... from... my... side," she said, trying once again to get her giggles under control.

"You know you could have told me."

"And miss the look on your face? Well, when this gets out it'll squash any rumours about me and Superman."

"What?"

"Well, people will think you're gay."

"I'm not gay."

"I'm not convinced. You are going to have to reassure me." She kissed him and pulled on the front of the suit to bring him down on top of her. "I will need you to show me, over and over."

Finally, a grin spread across Clark's face. "I can show you as often as it takes."

Fade out...

THE END

Author's Note: The other show is *Will & Grace* for those who didn't guess, and the dark-haired woman on the podium is Grace's assistant Karen Walker.

The following story –

“Stranger in Our Midst”

by – Morgana

was Nominated in the:

Best Long Story

Best Original Character

and

Best Overall

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Description: Imagine a world where Lex is not such a bad guy - he even falls in love!  But not with Lois Lane!  Amidst Intergang, the theft of a mysterious new energy, and duelling wits with a beautiful agent provocateur, Lois and Clark work to crack the mystery of sensitive technology stolen from a freighter.

Stranger in Our Midst

By Morgana <cynthia.mccoy533@gmail.com>

Rated:  PG13

Submitted: November, 2012

A/N: This story takes place in an Elseworld setting. There have been numerous alterations to the plot and timeline. Here are a few points:

This is an alternative world story and as such, Lex Luthor won't behave the same as the character we are familiar with. Lex is still ambitious, driven, and power hungry, his criminal activities are not as vast as portrayed in the series. He does however possess a heart, one that can be affected, perhaps even broken. He has a new assistant after Mrs. Cox departs. Beyond a good sense of fashion, the mysterious Aykira Milan is *nothing* like Mrs. Cox.

Keep Michael Landes in mind whenever Jimmy Olsen makes an appearance. I always preferred his interpretation of the cub reporter as opposed to Justin Whalin’s. Michael’s Jimmy was more on equal terms with the other characters and not a glorified gofer.

Cat Grant’s character provided female balance and a worthy opponent for Lois in a few precious scenes that were attempted. (The episode Witness is an excellent example.) Sadly, with the beginning of season two, cast changes were made and her abrupt departure was never explained. Here is an endeavor to allow her a more graceful exit.

Lois’ lack of talent in the kitchen is a sore point for her. After bearing up under countless digs from the likes of Bobby Bigmouth, she is determined to dive in and take on the challenge, once and for all. With a little assistance from Uncle Mike, Mad Dog Lane makes decent attempts at understanding the culinary arts.

It always strikes me how seldom Lois and Clark seem to relate with other people outside of the usual suspects. In the series, we only know about Inspector Bill Henderson, Ralph the creep and dear Dr. Klein. However, what about other characters like Diane the reporter who made two very brief appearances, Clark’s landlady or Lois’ Uncle Mike? In this work, we get to see Lois and Clark interact with these characters and other folks who might occupy their lives. I hope that filling out these characters’ hazy outlines will not bog the narrative down, but provide a more colorful canvas to tell a story.

At the time of this writing there are at least two other stories which will radiate from this one, as kind of a loose trilogy. “Café Americana” and “The Globe” will take references from “Stranger” and vice versa. Perhaps there will be more, only time will tell.

There are so many people who assisted me on this fic they have to be listed in alphabetical order: Andreia, Anti-Kryptonite, Corinna, Erin, Janet, Ray, Terry, KenJ, Jenni and a huge number of other folks who pushed, prodded, pleaded and cajoled. Honestly, without such a large cheering squad I would have dumped this bad boy into the recycling bin ages ago!! Last but not least a happy thumbs up to Dr. Klein’s Labrat who stood by me from my stumbling beginnings until the very end.

Now, let’s see what kind of trouble an egg salad sandwich can get our two favorite investigative reporters into!

All characters, settings and some dialogue are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros., and whoever else can legally lay claim to them. No copyright infringement of any kind was intended. This story was written for the joy of playing in the Lois and Clark universe, not for profit, but the story is an original idea and it is mine.

A STRANGER IN OUR MIDST

Part One

Rain. Rain. Rain. A relentless downpour hurtled from the heavens, through the early spring evening, saturating everything in its wake. Metropolis’ majestic skyscrapers were pummeled foremost, water sliding effortlessly down slick facades. Next, it tumbled down the sides of industrial warehouses, the fluid moving not quite so smoothly over ancient brick and mortar, the building walls pocked and worn from decades of rain and exposure. Finally, the rain pelted over restored upscale brownstones; residences of the city’s rich, not so rich, famous and quietly infamous. Far below the building rooftops, fleeing citizenry tried numerous methods to avoid getting sodden. Some clutched recalcitrant umbrellas, others wore hats, either brimming with water or completely soaked; a few grateful souls managed to hail a cab, not without getting a little damp.

Such was a typical rainy spring evening in Metropolis. In one particular alleyway, two of those citizens sat waiting impatiently. After a long day toiling at the Daily Planet, its best investigative reporter team, Lane and Kent, had planned on heading to their separate comfortable and dry abodes. Clark and some friends looked forward to watching a much-anticipated basketball game. Lois also planned on a well-deserved quiet evening at home. Sadly, such was not to be the case; instead they sat in Lois’ silver Jeep Grand Cherokee in slightly damp trench coats, keenly aware of the scent of food for their snitch, Bobby Bigmouth.

Notwithstanding the downpour and gloominess outside, both reporters worked hard to keep their moods light. The newsroom day had been long and taxing. Thus, they were in danger of taking work stress out on one another. To top everything off, the insistent pounding of raindrops on the car’s metal rooftop only reinforced the desire to be home. The beautiful brown-haired woman sitting in the driver’s seat felt a wicked head cold coming on. She thought once more about the delightful chicken aroma assaulting her nostrils. <If that man does not show up soon with *Kerth* level information his dinner is ours!> She thought furiously.

Deciding on breaking the silence, Lois babbled irritably, “I cannot believe we are stuck in a clammy, dark alley behind Callard’s during a downpour! Bobby’s information had better be good! I was planning on watching two week’s worth of my favorite show.” She sighed and dropped her chin to her chest than added, “Next time I decide to take an ‘urgent’ phone call at quitting time, *please* stop me.”

“Yeah,” Clark empathized. “Perry, Jimmy, Eduardo and Pete are at my apartment watching the Metros go against the Denver Nuggets. Bobby has a knack for meeting in out-of-the-way places, despite the weather, but his information is always reliable. Hey, I thought he was mad at us. Oh, that’s right,” he smiled mischievously. “It was *you*. Wasn’t there something about the absence of any real food in your kitchen?”

Lois’ features turned pouty, her prickles were coming out. “There may not be any food in my house, but we, partner, *always*, provide good food for our best snitch – er - source.”

Suddenly a familiar head popped up from the back of Lois’ Jeep.  The ever-famished, self-proclaimed street epicurean Bobby Bigmouth had arrived.

“Greetings, Clark… Lois.   Good tips are how I keep myself fed. Do I smell Chicken Marsala…with shiitake mushrooms?”

Lois gasped, hand clutched to her chest. “Bobby! I wish you would *stop* doing that!”

Clark smiled and completed the menu, “With creamy cheese broccoli and wild rice for side dishes, as you requested.   Good to see you too, Bobby.” He handed over the informant’s dinner.

Reaching into the brown sack, Bobby quickly pulled out the savory contents and began eating.  Between large forkfuls of food and smacking sounds, he proceeded to do what he did second best…talk. “Mmm, those mushrooms really bring out the flavor! Kent, you got this, ‘cause, your partner here doesn’t know a shiitake mushroom from a portobello.”

“Ok Bobby, enough with the frustrated food critic routine! This rain isn’t getting any lighter and the basketball game isn’t waiting for me. Spill whatever news you have.”

“Take it easy, Kent, I’m delighting in the flavors…wait a second. Do I smell fresh, warm cinnamon rolls?”

Lois triumphantly held up another sack, this one a crisp bakery white, stenciled with the lettering Café Americana. She dangled it before the snitch. “Like the man said, spill!”

His face twisted between desire for the cinnamon rolls and annoyance at the female reporter. Since his accelerated metabolism cried out for satisfaction, Bobby spilled. “Word on the street is a shipment of new technology, something called Harmonic Crystals, is coming in from Leeds, England. They’re supposed to be docking in Metropolis Harbor’s Pier 17 tonight onboard a freighter called Shackleton. Only they ain’t gonna arrive at their proper *final* destination onboard Project Prometheus 2. The big *detour* is for Luthor Industries in general and LexSolar in particular.”

Clark let out a low whistle.  But his partner had a puzzled expression on her face.

“Okay Clark, obviously these crystals are familiar to you. Care to fill me in?” She said.

“There have been whispers about those crystals within the solar energy community. Supposedly they are ten times more powerful then nuclear energy, but much more stable and *not* radioactive. EPRAD needs them to power its new space station, Prometheus Two.  The original station, or Prometheus One, started with medical and chemical laboratories.”

“I get it, P2 is the next step!” Lois piped up.

“Exactly! The second station expands on that idea: microchip-processing factory, solar panel fabrication, hydroponic farming, and a host of other industries. Effectively allowing the space colony to be self-sustaining and build on future expansion projects.”

Lois interjected, “Isn’t there discussion within EPRAD about this P2 as a jumping-off point for future Mars expeditions?”

Clark nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, but without those crystals the entire space station program gets pushed back at least two years. Luthor’s only serious rival is stopped cold. LexCorp would have a firm grip on all future space industries.”

Bobby wiped his mouth with the back of a sauce-stained hand. “Yup, Luthor gets the crystals for his space station. Year and a half ago his plans literally went up in the air with the big guy taking the final module of the original station into orbit. This year he’s coming back with a plan to get his own station positioned.” Bobby whined. “Uh, Come on Lois, how about those cinnamon rolls?”

“Sorry, not so fast!” Lois snapped, holding the bakery bag close. “Where is this industrial-strength heist going to take place?”

“Do I look like a guy who goes around planning ship hijackings?” Bobby asked. “The Shackleton is supposed to dock at Pier 17 tonight. Maybe some action will happen after the docking or maybe while transporting the stuff to the space agency. Ask Luthor, or better yet, whoever he’s hiring to do that job.” The snitch’s fingers wiggled. “Okay, gimme the cinnamon rolls!”

Rolling her brown eyes, she tossed the bakery bag over the seat. “Those were a special treat from my Uncle Mike.  Eat them with respect.”

”Oh, I will.  I will. Look, I gotta get back to work. Just so you know, Kent, I was mad at your partner here.” Bobby said, jerking his thumb in Lois’s direction. “She should be ashamed of her kitchen; not even a box of stale crackers. Somebody ought to give this girl cooking lessons. Nothin’ fancy, just your basic kitchen survival skills. But after what happened to me earlier today, this hot stuff had to go to you guys, instead of that hack reporter who tried paying for prime information with an egg salad sandwich.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Clark asked bemused.

“The egg salad was rotten, that’s what!” The man snorted. “I have my stomach to think about.”

The two reporters exchanged surprised looks. Who was dumb enough to stiff Bobby? The reliability of his information was very consistent. Lois’ last Kerth award exposing a Columbian drug cartel’s trade route had come from intel he provided. Clark spoke first. “Okay. How about telling us who it is?”

“Nope, he might have stiffed me, but just like you, I got to protect my clients.”

“Well, never let it be said Bobby Bigmouth doesn’t have high standards.” Lois muttered sarcastically.

“Hey, watch it, Lane. I *do* have principles. By the way, not that I don’t respect your Uncle Mike’s baking chops, but his cinnamon rolls have w-a-a-ay too much cinnamon.”

“That does it, out!” Lois shouted.

Bobby sniffed, “I was only offering a little constructive criticism.” On that note, the snitch departed into the rainy evening leaving Lois and Clark light on their evening meal and heavy on a mystery.

“Partner, it looks to me like a stakeout at Metropolis Harbor is in order,” Clark said. “I’ll call Perry and tell them what we’re doing.” He sighed. “So much for a great basketball game. I hope those people leave me some chips! Hey, maybe your Uncle Mike can give us another dinner?”

“No,” she answered. “It’s the middle of the dinner rush and I would hate to tell him what we used that food for. How ‘bout splitting a pizza… or maybe even Chinese? I could go for some tri-pepper chicken, as long as it is *not* from that dump, The Green Dragon!” She shuddered, remembering the last time they ordered from there.

Clark bestowed a wry smile on his partner. “You got it. Pizza it is. Stay here where it’s warm and dry. I’ll be back in a minute. Antonio’s is right down the block.”

Lois watched Clark’s retreating athletic form as he got out of the Jeep and swiftly ran through the downpour. <What a great partner; he goes on last-minute snitch runs, helps on a stake out *and* gets take out. By combining our abilities, who knows, maybe this will be the ‘Pulitzer’ year.> “Besides, Cat’s right,” she murmured out loud. “He does have a tight end... but he’s *no* Superman!”

****

Two hours later, Lois and Clark were still sitting in the Jeep, only now they were located at Metropolis Harbor’s Pier 17. The white cardboard box containing a half-eaten sausage and pepperoni pizza sat in the back seat among the other remnants of their meal. Holding a powerful night-vision 2.5 x 42mm Black Monocular Zeiss binoculars trained to her eyes, Lois intently scanned the area. The usual denizens of the old harbor were safely indoors away from the intermittent rain. Absently rubbing her nose, she felt the warning tickle of a sneeze coming on.

“It never ceases to amaze me what comes out of that purse.” Clark said, shaking his head. “How many people just ‘carry around’ a pair of high-powered binoculars?”

Sighing deeply, Lois launched into babble mode without taking her eyes off the ship, “For the hundredth time, it’s a *briefcase*, not a purse. Purses are for reporters like Cat and Diane, not *investigative* reporters. We have to be prepared for nights like this! Carry around our tools-of-the-trade. Besides, the binoculars were in my desk until Bobby called! So, Kent, keep your eyes on that ship!”

***

Her partner’s brown eyes watched as well; he had tried earlier using his x-ray vision to search the old ship’s interior, but unfortunately build-up of lead paint that had been used over the years made that particular task impossible. The dark outline of the massive ocean-going freighter Shackleton stood majestically in the water. His meticulous scan above decks revealed little human activity, either legitimate or otherwise. No wonder there was so little movement anywhere on the cramped deck, covered as it was with a multitude of shipping containers, not to mention the continued rain. He wondered to himself. Was it possible Bobby’s intel really did come up dry?

***

“First a back alley, now harbor patrol. Who knows where the rest of this night will lead?” Before she could stifle a sneeze, it escaped. “Achoo!” Lois sneezed. “To a head cold?” She grumbled.

“Some Oolong tea would help move that along.”

“Thanks, Clark. As soon as this stakeout ends, I’m grabbing a pot of the stuff. I should be watching my show right now.”

“Oh, what show is that?” Clark asked, his eyes smiling mischievously.

“Uh, it’s a nature show; about big cats in the African wild.” Lois sank deeper into her seat and mentally crossed her fingers. The last thing Clark needed to know about was her addiction to the popular soap opera The Ivory Tower. Changing the subject she said, “Jimmy, Pete, Eduardo, and Perry are still at your apartment?”

“Yeah,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Hopefully the guys are enjoying fourth quarter of the best series in the NBA playoffs.”

“Don’t worry Clark, maybe there’s a Kerth - or maybe even a Pulitzer in it for us. That should make up for any old basketball game.”

“Or a nature show?” Clark said teasingly.

Lois looked a little uncomfortable. “Well, they are big cats!” Her face scrunched up again as she sneezed.

“Okay, that’s it, let’s call it a night,” Clark said. “You are catching a head cold, which is not going to help either of us.”

“Come on, Farmboy; a little cold is not going to stop me. We stay ten more minutes.”

“Okay, ten minutes, no more, then you are going home to a hot bath, tea and, ah, your nature show,” Clark said while trying to stifle a laugh.

<Drat!> she thought. <He *does* know about The Ivory Tower! No, he couldn’t - that’s perfect revenge/gossip material for use at the Planet.> Still her partner was not the chatty water cooler type, at least, not about their relationship outside of the Daily Planet’s newsroom.

<Ah yes… their relationship or lack thereof. Where did she and Clark stand?>

Of course, they were partners and best friends, but every time they wanted to move a little further along; someone, something, or some story got in the way. There was also Superman; the mysterious Kryptonian had set himself as a symbol of all that was good and decent. In her work as an investigative reporter, consistently digging into society’s underbelly, Lois appreciated his battle for justice and truth. It was comforting to have him on the same side and yes, even acknowledge her strong attraction to him. However, Clark Kent, the approachable Earthman, should be her first consideration. As much as she wanted, no, *needed* to talk with him, their timing was never right.

Mentally, pulling herself up, Lois sighed. <Stop it, Lane! That man is the best friend you ever had. Getting into a deeper relationship with him is begging for yet another federal disaster. Remember Claude!>

***

Clark continued looking out the window, studying the Shackleton, but he felt Lois’ body tense as if readying herself for a conversation. One, because of his deep rooted fears of discovery, he had been avoiding for months. Where was this working partnership of theirs headed? Anyone could see the chemistry between them; their articles were so seamless it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. She was sensitive to his moods and thoughts as he was to hers. They had even gotten to the point of finishing one another’s sentences.

However, it was not their working relationship in question here, but a greater commitment as a man extremely attracted to one fantastic woman. He had close relationships with his friends, like Dr. Pete Ross, Bruce Wayne and the people at the Daily Planet. Lana Lang was the closest he had ever come to a real girlfriend, although both of them knew their personalities were ill suited for each other.

His attraction and feelings for Lois were *different* - more mature. He sensed she felt the same. Both of them wanted so much more, but neither of them could muster the courage to say the frightening words.

Of course, there was the third person in the relationship: a Kryptonian, Kal-El, son of Jor-El, aka Superman. He was betting if Lois knew the truth about him she would be livid at him for keeping it a secret, perhaps angry enough to end the comfortable relationship they did have.

That scared him more than anything.

***

Another loud sneeze brought Clark out of his reverie. “Okay, that’s it,” he said. “I cannot work with a sick partner. Tonight was a bust. We’ll probably have to tackle this whole Harmonic Crystals thing from another angle.”

“Oh, Clark, stop being a killjoy. Bobby’s information is never wrong! Something is going to happen tonight! If Superman were here he’d scour that ship with his x-ray vision and tell us if anything crooked was happening onboard.”

“Well, he’s not here and you are getting worse. Besides the ten minutes are up, time for Miss Lane to go home.”

“Okay. You win, but I need to make a pit stop.”

He was grateful that she was listening to him, especially because the look Clark gave her meant he would brook no argument. She looked more than tired. The slow stiffness in her limbs seemed to him *achy*. He was thankful to see her fire up the Jeep and head through the fog and rain out of Pier 17 and to the Harbor Master’s office.

If only the two reporters had delayed their departure for thirty minutes more. Clark’s sensitive hearing would have picked up the sound of a mini-sub’s engine underwater.

***

Fifty blocks uptown and high atop the LexCorp tower, the third-richest man in the world stood at his balcony window overlooking the rain-soaked city with satisfaction. If all his plans went accordingly, tonight would be the first step towards Space Station Lex becoming the highest manmade object in the heavens.

His memories drifted back to his parents and their lives in Mulberry Gardens, which was now known as Suicide Slum. His father, a tall reserved man with a quiet sense of humor, grew old long before his time working hard on the docks to provide for his family. His mother, a gentle beautiful woman with a sharp mind, always told him he was destined for better things. In the end, they died penniless, their funeral attended to by only a tiny handful of mourners. Their bodies lay in a disgusting pauper’s field just outside of Metropolis.

He remembered vowing to rise above the squalor and immense poverty of his youth; he worked hard, but was not above cutting corners and paying bribes to anyone who could advance him. Sometimes in the stillness of the night, as he slept between satin sheets, he pondered if his parents would be proud of him. Would they consider a Space Station spinning through dark emptiness a fitting monument to their struggles?

He nodded slowly, as if to push away the cobwebs of old memories. The time had come to move onto the remaining tasks for the evening. Despite the dull pain of another mild headache, he went inside toward his antique desk, and then flipped on the intercom.

“Can you come in for a moment, Ms. Milan?”

A gentle voice responded over the intercom. “Yes sir.”

Lex Luthor mused about his resourceful assistant and occasional media liaison, Aykira Milan, Nigel St. John’s replacement. The former major-domo had decided life as Lex’s assistant no longer held any appeal and choose to retire permanently in Zurich, Switzerland.

Mrs. Cox was the natural choice to be Nigel’s replacement, but she could never be the bodyguard and assistant she once was. After recovering from multiple injuries due to a serious automobile accident while on vacation in Buenos Aires, working for him in that capacity was impossible.

So after sending Mrs. Cox lilies, paying for all her medical expenses and providing a generous separation package Lex was forced to hire a personal assistant from within LexCorp who could orchestrate his legitimate day-to-day activities. The H.R. department provided several internal candidates, but Ms. Milan’s recommendations were exceptional. Her unusual skill set such as experience in event planning, finance and a strong background on microprocessor science made her a desirable candidate.

It was her ability in long-range event planning that helped make the White Orchid Ball, as an affair so successful, many in Metropolis’ elite social circles still discussed it two years later. The Ball was the first major task he’d assigned Aykira, the first of many she would handle with efficiency and style.

With immense pleasure, Lex’s mind traveled back to their first meeting. On the day of her interview, Ms. Milan had arrived fifteen minutes early wearing light make-up, tasteful jewelry, an Anne Klein II grey suit and bearing a briefcase containing her research on the position as Lex Luthor’s new assistant. Such efficient preparation appealed to his organized nature.

The H.R. department had informed her one of the high-ranking LexCorp executives would meet with her. However, Lex Luthor himself conducted the final interview, expecting to catch her off guard. There were two elusive qualities, which struck him about this prospective employee: one was her innate gentleness and poise, the other: she seemed like the kind of woman who took genuine care of people around her without getting too close to them. Such an ability intrigued Lex; he wanted to know more about her.

He sketched brief scenarios about a day working for him. She fielded each circumstance with practiced ease; he could see her confidence grow with each correct response. He decided to create a situation designed to throw her off balance.

“Ms. Milan, you have fulfilled my expectations admirably. All scenarios were answered satisfactorily.” He smiled smoothly, black eyes dancing. “There is just one more.” Gesturing towards a Tiffany crystal pitcher containing lemon ice water and elegantly cut glasses perched atop a coffee table, he said; “Before asking, might I offer some refreshment? We’ve been conversing for quite some time.”

She arched a finely formed eyebrow, “Nothing for me, thank you. Please, what is your scenario?”

Lex stood up from behind his desk and walked over to the antique weapons display. He picked up the sword of Alexander the Great, caressed it, and then turned towards the candidate, his eyes radiant with intensity. “Not so much a scenario as a question of character. Loyalty. Ms. Milan. Loyalty. Alexander’s generals remained steadfast with him throughout his lightning swift conquests toward India. No matter what the obstacles, they stood by him and forged ahead.”

“I expect loyalty of all my employees; from my executive board members, personal staff, and most definitely my personal assistant. No matter whom, he or she, as the case might be, it is a matter of respect.” Holding out the sword to her, Lex waited for an answer. The antique-filled room fairly crackled with tension. A new battle for this century was taking place, not a battle of sword and sinew, but one of minds and steel-forged wills.

Aykira Milan’s cool hazel eyes glazed unflinchingly at the billionaire and the ancient weapon in his grasp. Gently she caressed the flat of the blade with her slender brown fingertips, and said. “Loyalty is a commitment, one to stand by, short of breaking the law. Alexander broke his own law by drinking. It was during a drunken rage that he killed a man named Clitus, one of his closest companions.”

“Mr. Luthor,” she continued, “since we are speaking of Alexander the Great, it was a fact that he approached all of his military campaigns with the utmost care and backed by the greatest army of its time. I came to this interview after intensive study of yourself and the corporation… armed and ready to work.”

Lex smiled again, but this time it did not reach his obsidian eyes. He felt strangely fascinated by this woman. She was not afraid of him. His wealth, connections, and power were of no consequence. A woman of such caliber was rare, indeed, and should make the perfect personal assistant and perhaps more.

The tense moment passed when Lex bestowed upon her a charming smile and extended his hand. “Ms. Milan, I have no further questions. It is my distinct pleasure to welcome you to LexCorp’s executive suite.”

She responded with an equally beautiful smile. “Thank you Mr. Luthor.”

As the weeks and months passed, Lex Luthor grew to depend on Ms. Milan’s observations in both business and personal matters. With her exceptional organizational abilities, coupled with a gentle yet firm manner, LexCorp’s Executive Suite ran with an easy efficiency never seen before. Definitely more so than Angelica Cox’s stress-filled tenure at the executive administrative helm. His executives and their administrative assistants seemed happy, even comfortable with her calling the shots. With such a person handling the day-to-day operations of LexCorp, he could focus on other things.

He even covertly sought her advice on the actresses, models, and politicians’ daughters he squired around town. His relationship with Antoinette Baines, the fiery scientist whose ‘friendship’ he cultivated as a means of learning Prometheus Space Station’s secrets, ended partially because of his lovely assistant.

Aykira had been working for him at least a year when Lex introduced her to Dr. Antoinette Baines. The two women took an immediate dislike to each other. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Aykira discovered her on the terrace in Lex’s apartment, having breakfast, wearing the same clothes she wore the previous evening at dinner.

This was not the first time Aykira had met one of his ‘houseguests’, but this time it was different. Her face did not display jealousy, but instead an expression of intense sadness. So much so, that Aykira later pleaded a headache and went home. Lex could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes. Afterwards Antoinette never spent the night at his home again. For some strange reason he did not want to see that melancholy expression etched on Aykira’s face again.

In any case, the plot to sabotage P1 had failed miserably, thanks to the newly arrived Man of Steel. Antoinette, because her dreams of wealth or perhaps keeping Lex as more than a business associate were not realized, demanded Lex pay her something as compensation. Pay her off he did, by promising to lay all their plans at her doorstep if she ever dared blackmail him or mention his name in connection with the Space Station’s troubles.

Terrified of the prospect of facing a long federal prison term, Antoinette bolted. She immediately severed her ties to Luthor and resigned from EPRAD. The last he had heard of the scientist, she was teaching physics in an obscure community college in the Midwest.

Of course, Lex Luthor was not totally without companionship, but those affairs were short-lived and few. Although they had dated briefly, the beautiful Daily Planet reporter Lois Lane did not draw him mentally and emotionally as Aykira did. Despite her slim mask of brisk, even standoffish, efficiency, he knew the woman who touched the sword held a similar, albeit smoldering, attraction for him. He took pains to hide his feelings from everyone, but deep in his heart, Aykira was someone he could care for.

He decided to slowly alter their relationship, to put it on a more friendly footing. The first step was to make updating of his business calendar into a challenging game. Aykira surprised him. After the first month, she kept it with greater accuracy than he ever did. They started each morning going over his schedule; sometimes he might attempt to trip her up, only to fail more often than succeed. The second step, in his plan to improve their relationship, Lex teased her with gentle sincerity. To his delight, she responded in kind, but always as a respectful assistant. Still, it was refreshing having a work confidante. Not since the early days of his relationship with former wife Arianna Carlin had he experienced anything remotely like it.

His administrative assistant continued displaying her flair for organizational management and handled people with a lighter touch than himself. Some of his chief executives were more inclined to discuss a matter with Aykira before going to him. She was truly a valuable resource. The time had come to give her greater duties within the company. She would be the perfect permanent media liaison between LexCorp and the barrage of reporters who would be asking questions about the microprocessors theft from the Shackleton when the news broke.

The military knew what was really stolen and would be too happy for the investigation’s focus to be on common technology while they searched for the purloined crystals.

Now he needed Aykira’s assistance to draft a memo increasing the hourly work schedule for key scientists at LexSolar. He wanted the crystals installed within Space Station Lex as a power source as soon as possible. With the expected shipment of Harmonic Crystals imminent, the solar panel specifications had to be reconfigured and manufactured quickly to be in time for the mid-summer launch one year hence.

Afterwards, those same scientists’ work expertise on the Harmonic Crystals could be channeled to its other applications. LexCorp’s financial capacity in government contracts and medical advances would have no bounds.

The report held no mention of these reasons. Its appearance was that of a routine work assessment. His key person at the facility, Dr. Frederick Scott, knew what Lex required. There was no reason to draw Aykira into this plan. He preferred she remain in the dark about his ‘other’ business activities. Plausible deniability is an important asset

Besides, she was busy enough with running LexCorp’s Executive Suite and her workload was about to increase. Like tonight, she made herself available to work long hours.

He smiled a greeting when she entered the room, wearing a chic silk gold fitted jacket with black pants. Simple gold earrings dangled from her ears and a slender gold pendant hung from her neck. On her perfectly manicured right hand’s index finger she wore a square silver ring adorned with intricate, deep etchings on the sides. It must have some sentimental value. He never remembered a time she did not wear it. A pair of black low-heel sling back pumps adorned her feet. He enjoyed looking at those brown legs covered by silk stockings. <Truly magnificent.> Lex sighed inwardly.

Holding a pad in her arm, Aykira Milan walked further into the lushly carpeted office. “Yes, Mr. Luthor?”

“This personnel assessment and updated work schedule must be done, so thank you for staying late on such a wet, dreary night. Please set up an appointment to see the head physicist, a Dr. George Amundsen, tomorrow. He’s mentioned leaving the project and moving home to Seattle. Could you handle that for me? The man is invaluable. If you must, increase his salary by as much as twenty-five thousand dollars as an incentive, effective immediately.” Handing her two sheets of paper with his written notes describing the particulars of LexSolar’s personnel needs, he continued firing off orders, which Aykira swiftly jotted into her notebook.

Upon completion, Lex sighed, rubbed his forehead, feeling that the mild stress headache he had was slowly abating and he said. “That is all for now.” He looked up, shook his head and teasingly said, “My dear Ms. Milan, how do you ever keep up with my demands?”

Allowing herself a bit of amusement, she said with a smile. “You pay better than the next guy.” Then, after looking over his dictated notes and instructions, she continued, “This should take all of ten minutes to type and edit. I will forward it to you when it is done, Mr. Luthor.”

“Lex, please - no one is here,” He said in an equally teasing tone.

Her hazel eyes smiled softly. “Which is precisely why it is *Mr.* Luthor.”

“Of course,” he smiled back at her, immensely enjoying the game. “In any case, I insist on calling my car service. Taking the Metro on a night such as this is out of the question.”

The shade of an impish smile again played across her face. “Mr. Luthor, I arrange for all the executive car services. I already have a car standing by. As you say, it is a rather unpleasant night. I intend to leave as soon as this report is completed.”

“Staying tonight in my home is always an option. My behavior would be that of a complete and perfect gentleman.” Lex placed a hand over his heart and bowed slightly. His voice said one thing, but his eyes spoke very differently. The game had moved to a new level.

Aykira’s features stilled, then a look passed over them. What was it? Caution? Desire? Deep longing, with a maddening touch of sadness? Like a gentle mist, it vanished and her face once again resembled the mask of an efficient executive administrative assistant. “N… no”, she stammered nervously. “That shall not be necessary, although the offer was a kind one. Good night, Mr. Luthor.”

“Good night, Ms. Milan.”

After a brief nod of her head, Aykira turned, gracefully walked out of Luthor’s office suite and went downstairs to her office.

***

<“Idiot!”> The voice inside her head roared. <He’s drawing you in. Another mistake like that will ruin *everything*. Focus on the true task at hand. He is *not* the man you love!> After exiting the circular staircase she walked briskly down the silent corridor, then entered her own stylishly appointed office. Sitting down at the reproduction of a nineteenth century French writing table, she created and edited the report, then forwarded it to her boss as promised.

Minutes later, the intercom went off again, but Aykira Milan had departed for the night.

Part Two

“Yes, of course,” a honeyed voice purred. “We can go another time. The job comes first. Bye now, George.”

The phone was slammed angrily into its cradle. “Men!”

Jimmy Olsen looked over to Cat Grant’s desk, watching the auburn-haired temptress body strike a pose like, well… a cat.

“Penny for your thoughts?” the junior reporter queried.

“You couldn’t handle them, Olsen.” The gossip columnist shot back.

“Too true, Jimmy, Cat’s thoughts aren’t worth a plugged nickel.” Lois snickered while she walked down the ramp into the bullpen.

Clark, following behind Lois, balancing two steaming lattes and fresh chocolate donuts astride each cup, winced at the remark and said. “Oh Lois, don’t start, it’s not even 8:30. Especially, after last night.”

Her previous irritation forgotten, Cat Grant’s face lit up with mischievous delight. Easing over to Clark, the gossip columnist rubbed a perfectly manicured and bejeweled hand on his arm. “Did anything happen last night between you two?” She turned, looking Lois up and down; shaking her head in sheer dismissal of the other woman’s sensible charcoal suit and burgundy blouse. “Oh no, what could I be thinking,” she pouted. “You were with Lois? ‘Madam Iceberg’? How could *anything* happen?”

Fighting a sneeze, Lois was ready to hurl a proper comeback when Perry White emerged from his office. “Great shades of Elvis! Is this a newspaper or a gossip rag? Olsen, where are those contact sheets from the Duncan Street fire? Cat, Senator Kline’s daughter’s wedding? The article rewrite is due for *tonight’s* evening edition. Focus, people focus!” He turned his steely gaze to Lois and Clark and boomed out, “Anything last night’s important happen at last night’s stakeout?”

Lois grabbed a tissue from her desk, covered her face just as the sneeze escaped. Clark’s lower lip turned downward and he spoke after letting out a heavy sigh of disappointment. “*Nothing* turned up Chief. We watched the ship for two hours; drove around the harbor and spoke with a few “locals” in the Harbor Master’s office. No story.”

“Ha! A first! The hottest team in town failed!” Ralph shouted gleefully.

Perry turned around and noticing, Ralph barked, “Hey, isn’t your city hall piece overdue?”

His face beet red, Ralph muttered “Uh, right Chief,” and quickly scurried away.

“What’s everybody standing around for?” The Daily Planet’s senior editor bellowed, “Get back to work!”

A chorus of “Yes, Chief!” was heard throughout the bullpen.

Everyone raced back to their respective desks attempting to put together the tasks Perry requested. Diane Pallister, a shy, statuesque blonde reporter specializing in articles for the ‘City Life’ and Weekend sections of the paper, was walking towards her desk when Lois called her over.

“So, what is up with Cat?” Lois said. “She looked miffed a few moments ago.”

Leaning down, Diane spoke softly. “She’s upset about George; he called to break off tonight’s dinner date.”

“George?” Lois said, her surprise lifting her tone. “Isn’t he that slightly nerdy, ‘wild man’ scientist from Lex Industries? She’s *still* dating him after eight months? That’s some kind of a record!”

The blonde-haired woman shrugged. “I have no idea about Cat’s dating records, but apparently, the relationship is consistent *and* exclusive, especially where George Amundsen is concerned. They met a few weeks after the whole Nightfall Asteroid experience at some science/celebrity charity event. Apparently, he’s a scientist specializing in the new field of solar harmonics.

Glancing carefully over at the gossip columnist’s desk, Diane continued. “George works for LexSolar and lately they have been putting in overtime on some new project. He keeps canceling their dates and she’s getting anxious.” She warily glanced over at the gossip columnist then leaned closer. “Lois, please don’t let her know I told you this.”

“No way! Still, a very impressive bit of information gathering!”

“I learned from the best!” Smiling, Diane continued walking to her desk. Leaning forward in her chair and slowly sipping the mocha latte, Lois thought to herself, <Mantrap Cat Grant in a serious, monogamous relationship? What next, Ralph joins a monastery?>

***

Cat noticed the conversation between Lois and Diane and easily imagined the subject of their speculation: George Amundsen. A subject which was strictly off limits to everyone; *especially* Perry’s little pet, investigative reporter Lois Lane. After all, didn’t she keep Daily Planet employees’ names out of “Cat’s Corner”? Why couldn’t they respect her privacy?

George - so strange to think of him as “off limits” to anyone ever since meeting him he was anything but that to her.

Their sexual attraction was immediate, passionate and wholly reckless. A *wild man*, she remembered saying to anyone who would listen in the early days of their relationship.

His appearance was very different from the usual model-perfect men she went out with. He had an athletic build, over six feet tall with gentle blue eyes and blonde hair that was beginning to show the first signs of baldness. His nose was broken, the legacy from a biking accident when he was in his early twenties. Still it was George’s voice, which set him completely apart; it was slightly reedy with a tendency to speak in a manner that made the listener think he was totally insecure. Underneath the façade of insecurity and stutter lay a strong, steady individual. One who was willing to look past the Cat’s vamp exterior and see the intelligent, witty woman underneath. For the first time in years, Catherine Grant did not just ‘go through the motions,’ but genuinely enjoyed lovemaking.

Somewhere in the past eight months, the temptress gave way to a mature woman, happy to explore the joys of a fulfilling relationship without games or artifice. On his part, George consistently made efforts to help her grow as a person.

Her high-profile occupation as a gossip ‘columnist’ constantly exposed her to several heavy-hitters in the worlds of politics, sports and entertainment. George’s claim to fame was working to create a better solar battery, not mingling with the high and mighty. Yet he never appeared anxious and was always willing to be her ‘plus one’ at events she knew bored him silly.

The past eight months they shared other passions; good books, favorite local places in the city of Metropolis, cooking and hiking. She smiled inwardly, <Me a nature girl, who would have thought it?> George taught her the bare rudiments of physics and she shared her love of fine Italian sculpture, especially the Renaissance period. In the early winter on a whim, Cat dropped a few of her social engagements to take a clay sculpture class at Metropolis Community College and really enjoyed it.

It fired her creative energies in other directions besides writing a simple gossip column. There were other places and subjects she considered important now, subjects very different from merely working for the Daily Planet.

She had the Nightfall asteroid and one frightened priest to thank for all this. Such a harrowing experience had forced Cat to deeply examine her life thinking. <There was no longer fulfillment in a series of meaningless relationships, where the heck was the meaning in that? All those *perfect* guys she called already had friends, family, someone to spend Earth’s last moments with. She was alone.>

A thrice-removed distant cousinship shared with Jimmy Olsen most *definitely* did not count.

She was getting comfortable, content with the tall, balding scientist with the hawk nose and faintly reedy voice. But certain nasty thoughts came to the surface. <Now, all of a sudden he had to work late? Shouldn’t that be her avoidance line? Hmm… maybe he wasn’t lying? Wasn’t there some kind of rumor about heightened security at LexSolar? He had mentioned a co-worker of his, Dr. Frederick Scott making his work difficult. But that shouldn’t affect them. Should it?>

“I need to get to the bottom of this!” She muttered aloud.

“Need to get to the bottom of what?” Jimmy asked innocently.

Looking up, her green eyes narrowed. Maybe she couldn’t find out about George, but a genuine computer hacker could weasel the information out of LexCorp. “Cousin” Jimmy might come in handy after all.

***

“Achoo!”

“That cold is getting no better. You need some chai green tea,” Clark said, concern etched in his deep brown eyes.

“What I need is to find Bobby and get Uncle Mike’s cinnamon rolls back!” Lois grumbled. “We have nothing to show for our stakeout *but* my cold.”

Clark agreed with her. He had missed a great basketball game; the Metros had won their match after going into overtime… twice. His guests had departed before he’d arrived, leaving the living room clean with only a few beer bottles and empty potato chip bags in the garbage.

Unexpectedly, Clark’s sensitive hearing picked up the words ‘Metropolis Harbor’. He turned from his partner and said “Perhaps not. Look at the monitor.”

The image of Gloria Campos, LNN’s top reporter, filled the screen. “This just in from Metropolis police, the super freighter Shackleton was robbed last night around 1:30 a.m.

“The authorities are not stating how several crates of cutting-edge Barontech microprocessors bound for LexSolar were illegally removed from the vessel. A press conference held early this morning at LexCorp HQ by Aykira Milan, Executive Administrative Assistant to Mr. Luthor and media liaison regarding this particular robbery. A statement as well as a brief press release, was issued to the five main media outlets.”

The camera cut away to the lobby of LexCorp, where a stunning black woman dressed in a very chic manner spoke to a number of TV reporters. ‘The microprocessors were properly insured. This robbery will only somewhat affect the work timetable at LexCorp. Our computer customers’ government, commercial, and private orders should experience only a minimal delay.’

The scene shifted back to Ms. Campos. “The Metropolis police are examining every lead and LexCorp is hopeful to have the parties responsible brought to justice summarily.” She then closed out the story, stating more details of the robbery would be discussed during the evening news.

“Smooth. She’s much better looking than Nigel St. John,” Jimmy piped up.

“Yes. She’s Lex Luthor’s personal executive assistant and from my source at LexCorp runs a highly organized office.” Cat interjected thoughtfully toward the cub reporter.

Clark looked over at his colleague, noting the tone of admiration in her voice. “This woman must be good if she’s earned your respect.”

Cat turned to face him, jerking her thumb toward the monitor, “Working for Luthor is not for the faint of heart or the disorganized. Say whatever else you want about the man, he only has the best of the *best* working for his inner circle.”

“Who cares about Luthor’s inner circle?” A miffed Lois joined the conversation and turned to Clark. “The Planet was scooped! Only *TV crews* were invited to the conference. If we hadn’t quit our stakeout around midnight, the microprocessors would still be onboard the Shackleton and we…er the Planet would have had an exclusive!”

Clark held up his hands, deflecting his partner’s onslaught. “Microprocessors are not what we went looking for. Ms. Milan said LexCorp won’t miss them. No Kerth awards here, Lois.”

Lois spoke a little softer so only her partner could hear. “*Something* is not right. Bobby’s information has never failed. Possibly microprocessors’ crates were not the only ones stolen.

“Maybe we should speak with Bill Henderson and find out more about those missing crates?”

“Jimmy!” all three reporters shouted.

“No fair. You two always get the geek first; I need him!” Cat snapped

“Finding dirt on some celebrity-of-the-week is not worth pulling Jimmy.” Lois remarked acidly. ”We are tracking down *serious* news,” Lois remarked.

Cat’s green eyes flashed with menace; “She was about to lay into Lois when Clark stepped in as referee. “Ladies, we all need Jimmy’s exceptional abilities, but only one at a time. Cat, what are you researching?”

Mollified, the gossip columnist muttered. “It’s a private business matter.”

Clark shifted his gaze from Cat to Lois arching an eyebrow, which halted her from making a “Mad Dog” Lane comment. Jimmy walked over, sensing the tension within the group; he slowed down, rubbed his hands together, bounced on his toes and spoke diplomatically. “CK, Ladies, your wishes are my commands.”

Cat blurted out, “Work schedules for the LexSolar physics department.”

Ignoring her comment, but filing it in the back of her mind for later reference, Lois spoke quickly while rummaging through her briefcase. “Track down how many crates of microprocessors was ordered for LexSolar from Barontech and how many were actually stolen. Here, use this shipping manifest from the Shackleton as a baseline.” Turning to Clark, she continued, whispering. “Maybe General Zeitlin can provide Superman with the number of Harmonic Crystals crates shipped. After all, advertising the theft of a unique new technology like the Harmonic Crystals with military and extraterrestrial applications is not in EPRAD’s best interests. If the shipping manifest we bagged last night says 12 microprocessor crates were shipped, but say, 14 crates are missing then we’ll know the microprocessors were stolen as a smoke screen. Then somebody, perhaps Ms. Milan, is lying.”

“Amazing how that little ‘pitstop’ for the bathroom at the Harbor Master’s office yielded Shackleton’s complete shipping manifest.” Clark grumbled unhappily, “You took quite a risk.” Changing tack, he asked, “What about Lex himself?”

“Clark, what is this *obsession* with Lex Luthor? Besides, if Ms. Milan is such a good administrator it will be very easy for her to locate all the information we need.”

“Wait a second, Lois. The existence of these Harmonic Crystals is not exactly public knowledge. Superman cannot ask General Zeitlin for that kind of information.” Suddenly Clark’s phone rang, cutting through the newsroom din. Seeing they were deep in discussion, Jimmy rushed over to answer it.

Cat sighed, walked away from the duo, and around to her desk. Much as she loathed admitting it, Lois was right. Using Planet resources to snoop on George was crossing the line...even for her. She was going to have to resort to something daring and different – trust George.

“Hey CK, General Zeitlin’s assistant wants to know if you can contact Superman, it’s a matter of National Security.” Taking the phone, Clark quickly found himself deeply engrossed in conversation.

***

Lois contacted the 12th Precinct and asked to be put through to Henderson. Sounding more irritable than usual, the laconic inspector growled, “The boys bet me $20.00 either you or Kent would call before ten o’clock. Bad news travels fast, especially when you two don’t get to report it.”

“Spare me, Henderson. Let’s cut to the chase. How many of the microprocessors crates were stolen? Achoo!”

“Honey and lemon, plus a little rest should take care of what ails you, Lois. Afraid your partner will handle this story better than you will? A little healthy competition can be a good thing.”

Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she took a deep breath and said, “Gee thanks, Dad. Just give me the number of crates actually missing!”

Ignoring Lois’ retort as per usual, the police officer responded. There were twenty crates in all, but only five were stolen.”

“Five?”

“Yeah, and they were considerably smaller than the other fifteen.”

Her pencil made a steady tap-tap-tap sound on the wooden desk’s surface as she mentally rolled facts around. Furiously writing a quick reminder to check back with Jimmy on the Shackleton’s manifest she ‘acquired’ last night. Lois continued her conversation, “How much was the total street value of those crates?

“Oh, about five point two million... give or take.”

“Impressive. But that’s mere pocket change for Luthor. Still, nice round numbers like that are always exciting to the readership. Hey, why the easy give, Henderson?”

“Because the government, Air Force and EPRAD are all over this one, so help getting these ‘microprocessors’ back is accepted from anywhere.” Henderson sighed. “Even from you two! Oh, yeah, tell Kent if he hears from Superman we could sure use the big guy’s help with this case.”

“But according to the LexCorp spokeswoman the theft of these microprocessors won’t hurt business. Why all the heavy suit reaction?”

“Since when is *anything* involving LexCorp and really Luthor himself simple?”

“Hmm. Point taken. Thanks, Henderson. Achoo!”

***

Once the phone was back in its cradle, Lois looked up for Clark, but her partner was missing and Ralph was standing in front of her desk.

“Sorry Lois. Clark’s gone, but he did leave this note for you.” Ralph held a sheet of paper between thumb and forefinger.

Lois’s eyes narrowed; he obliviously stole the sheet from Clark’s desk. “Give it here, Ralph.”

“Nope. Not until you tell me where that Intel about the Shackleton shipment came from.”

“Sources are confidential Ralph, even you know that. Now hand over Clark’s note or prepare to be very sorry.”

He continued to dangle the note just out of her reach. “No way, Lane! I…Steve… gimme!”

Steve Landers, the Planet’s head sportswriter, easily snatched the paper from Ralph’s fingers and handed it to Lois. “The newsroom is not a place for games. Crawl back into your hole and let the real reporters work,” he growled.

Frightened, Ralph fairly scampered up the ramp towards the coffee machine.

It was easy to understand why Ralph was scared. Steve was a former football player for the Dallas Cowboys; after an injury sidelined him from the game he turned to his second love, writing. Despite being in his mid-fifties, he kept himself in excellent shape. His powerful frame belied a gentle heart, but he was a man who did not take kindly to fools in general and Ralph in particular.

Steve looked askance at Ralph’s retreating figure and shaking his head, the older man said gruffly, “Why Perry keeps that guy on salary is beyond me. Know what I mean?”

“Absolutely. Thanks for the assist.”

“No problem.” He smiled warmly and moved off.

Lois opened the note; it read:

*Lois, General Zeitlin needs a meeting with Superman, I’m going to try and contact him. Should be back in a few hours. Clark.*

Sighing, she decided her partner could tackle that part of the story. Jimmy was working on the Shackleton’s manifest. She needed to focus on Lex’s assistant, Ms. Milan. Perhaps she could clarify why the billionaire’s LexSolar division might not require the microprocessors. <Hmm… Cat needed information on LexSolar’s work schedule. Perhaps the loss of the microprocessors would force workers to be laid off? Why is a gossip columnist interested? Could it have to do with George?>

Walking over to Jimmy’s cramped desk, Lois spoke loud enough for him to hear her, but soft enough to avoid anyone else listening in. “Hey, look up Cat’s request as well as ours. Who knows, it might be related to our story.”

She watched a bewildered expression cross the cub reporter’s face. Wisely, he thought better of asking questions; with a nod, he stood up and headed towards the research department.

Lois watched him go than decided it was time to get moving, herself. <If Ms. Aykira Milan is the new public face of LexCorp, it’s time for her to get a crash course in media attention… Daily Planet style!>

The mocha latte was now cold and uninviting; frowning at its loss, she poured the remains into her plant pot. Shouldering the ever-present camel-colored briefcase, Lois started up the ramp ready to do battle. But, before doing that, she needed to buy some Echinacea; no way was a simple cold going to slow “Mad Dog” Lane down.

Part Three

After completing the phone conversation and dashing off a note to his partner, Clark immediately raced up ten flights of stairs to the roof. Standing on the top step, he listened for any heartbeats before spinning into the suit. Once, in the early days of Superman, he had made the error of bursting through the roof’s access door and startling a maintenance crew. Painfully embarrassed, Clark had sheepishly made an excuse about needing some fresh air and run back downstairs. He found another escape route, from the building, but lost precious time helping a car hijack victim.

Fortunately, this time the coast was clear. Soaring upward into the damp morning air the superhero sped towards EPRAD facility and his meeting with the military head of the space agency, General Virgil Zeitlin.

Flying towards the southern tip of the eastern seaboard always amazed Clark. Each state had a vastly different landscape, which guided him to the Florida space center. The industrial and urban residential megalopolis of BosWash lay spread out beneath him, which eventually gave way to long stretches of Virginia and North Carolina’s lush green woodlands preserves.

***

As a teen-ager, when he begun exploring his puzzling new abilities flying from one place to another always presented special challenges. Such as, avoid being picked up by radar and not get lost. Two special people, besides Jonathan and Martha Kent, helped reduce those challenges and grant easy access to any point on the planet; Ida Schultz and Hutch Parlow.

All through the summer of his eighteenth year, he and Jonathan had spent many a happy evening poring over the few detailed aerial maps available to the public. Hearing about the younger Kent’s interest in navigation from Jonathan, Hutch Parlow, the introverted WWII Army Air Corps veteran, spent time with the equally shy teen-ager. Despite a forty-year age difference, a close friendship developed based on their love of cartography and navigation.

To Clark’s absolute delight, Hutch brought out some of the maps he had used as an aviator during his time on the Army Air Corps as well as some of the more modern maps used in civil aviation called sectionals. He took Clark out to Schubert Field, a local private airport used for civil aviation, and purchased some up to date sectionals for Clark as a present. These are maps that overlay each other and give minute details of terrain as well as locating airports, VOR station locations (VOR stands for Variable Omnidirectional Range. It is a specialized radio station, each of which broadcasts on a specific frequency and is used for navigation) and other landmarks used in navigation. He taught Clark the intricacies of plotting a course while having to account for wind speed and direction. Clark would not really need that knowledge since all of his flying could be classified as seat of the pants flying, but if he had declined to learn, questions of an uncomfortable nature might have been asked that he wouldn’t want to answer.

Clark fondly remembered sitting with the aviator over tea and his mother’s warm chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookies listening to thrilling accounts of aerial strategy during the war in Europe. The older man’s eyes would sometimes drift far into the past, reliving a particular battle. He mentioned quietly the greatest plane he had ever seen was the English Electric Lighting. It was special to him because the plane’s navigator had saved his life. Clark had often asked to hear the story, but the older man always shook his gray head, smiled sadly and said, “That’s a tale for another evening.”

In time Hutch began to train him on the finer points of aerial navigation and as a ‘final exam’ had Clark ride co-pilot in his plane to Kansas City. For a young man whose special abilities easily allowed him to fly to the city and back in mere minutes it was surprisingly one of the highlights of that particular summer.

Ida Schultz, Smallville’s head librarian, also contributed to Clark’s store of navigation edification. Many were the times when he could be seen leaving the small library carrying railroad, highway and city maps, first of Kansas, then the United States and finally the planet. These books didn’t have as much detail as the sectionals, however at this point what he needed most was an overview. After so many trips to the library, the older woman questioned Martha about it one day at Smallville’s General Store.

“That boy has taken out every atlas in the library and put in library transfer requests from as far away as Kansas City! It’s not right for a youngster to be spending time with so many books during the summer. Jonathan needs him around the farm to lend a hand with chores and such.”

Martha said, smiling innocently, “Clark gets his chores done in plenty of time to read. He likes maps; someday my boy will travel the world.”

Her comment had satisfied the older woman, so much so she eagerly began ordering different atlases through Smallville’s library on loan system for Clark to study, blissfully unaware of his true purpose.

One night during dinner, Jonathan had commented. ”If you weren’t so determined to be a journalist, son, cartography might make a fine career.”

***

Superman smiled gently to himself, cherishing the happy memories. Even today, ten years later the now retired Mrs. Schultz would occasionally send an e-mail to Martha with computer enhanced satellite updates of a new atlas for her now world-famous journalist son.

Sadly, Mr. Parlow had died a few years after that wonderful summer, but the young man within still harkened back to every piece of advice bestowed upon him. The Man of Steel had thoroughly familiarized himself with Earth’s landmarks.

Clark slowed down as he approached EPRAD’s huge facility. Flying overhead, he viewed the impressive space complex. New outer buildings radiated outwards from the smaller, older buildings; when EPRAD was an undersized agency, its budget allowed for lesser buildings only. Fortunately, the last two administrations realized the need for the space program’s expansion and increased its overall budget handsomely.

Touching down near the main administrative building, General Zeitlin’s adjutant, Captain Maynard greeted him. “Good to see you again, Superman.” The Air Force Officer, a short, well-built man with brown hair and gentle blue eyes framed with horn-rim glasses, smiled warmly as he shook the superhero’s hand. “General Zeitlin is waiting in conference room ten. Follow me, please.” Clark followed him into the spacious main lobby; its walls displayed pictures of various spacecraft launched from EPRAD. An impressive array of commemorative photos of shuttle crews from previous years also adorned the walls.

Uniformed and civilian personnel alike walked about, but stopped and stared upon seeing the familiar blue, red and yellow suited figure. Superman and his companion approached the waiting elevator, stepped inside, and Captain Maynard pressed the button for the tenth floor.

Following a quiet ascent, the elevator doors opened and the pair headed down a worn beige carpeted corridor totally devoid of pictures or decorations. On the right side was a set of double doors. Stenciled on one was the name Video Conference room 10A.

Captain Maynard opened the door and ushered the superhero inside. General Zeitlin stood at the far end of a long oak conference table, going over several papers and one computer disk. Closer to the entrance, a red-haired technician stood over a computer, preparing a Power Point slide presentation. The technician, a seasoned veteran who routinely set-up video conferences between the Prometheus colonists and the President, looked up saw the superhero and gasped. “Wow! Superman, it is an honor to meet you!” He quickly regained his composure and muttered, “uh sir.”

Embarrassed for the soldier’s mistake and obvious discomfort; the captain spoke before the General could reprimand him. “Thank you, Kowalski. That will be all.”

Painfully aware of his blunder, Kowalski nodded, packed up and departed as quickly as possible.

Virgil Zeitlin, a middle-aged African American, strode towards the Man of Steel, extending his hand in welcome. Over the past few years, the General became the *unofficial* liaison between the US military and Superman. Brusque and commanding in manner and speech, the soldier in him had never completely warmed to the concept of dealing with an alien possessed of vast, unknown powers. The military as a community publicly respected the Man of Steel, but in certain branches of government, xenophobic concerns were clandestinely whispered.

“You wished to see me, General Zeitlin?” Clark spoke in his best civil-but-distant authoritative voice.

“Thank you for responding so quickly, Superman. Before starting, let me offer assurances this situation is not as dangerous as the Nightfall Asteroid, but it is serious. Please sit down.” Turning to Captain Maynard he said, “That will be all.” Nodding briskly to his superior and Superman, the aide departed.

The superhero sat across the table from the General while the latter started the slide presentation. “Today’s news report of the microprocessor theft aboard the Shackleton was misleading, for reasons of national security. LexCorp did have some microprocessors stolen, but not as many as the reports stated. It’s a cover up. The items stolen were the main supply of Harmonic Crystals.”

Playing innocent, Superman looked puzzled. “Harmonic Crystals?”

General Zeitlin began the presentation. “Yes. These pictures were taken at the test facility in Leeds, England where they were created by a joint effort between the US and Great Britain. The crystals’ potential as a power source are myriad, but medical applications, especially in regards to the brain, are now being explored; currently the top research hospitals in the world are clamoring for them.”

“Our military forces have tested them to power submarines, airplanes and all-terrain vehicles. EPRAD’s original plan: use the crystals to replace the nuclear power plant onboard Prometheus Station 2 with solar panels powered by the crystals. Such an engineering feat is still in the experimental stages, that’s why they were brought here.”

“Imagine how those plans have been crippled with this theft? Delay of power source transfer will dramatically affect the expansion of Prometheus Space Station 1 and push back P2 by as much as five years.”

General Zeitlin opened a lead-lined box revealing a fist sized lavender and white hued crystal. Handing it to Superman he continued, “This is one of the three remaining prototypes; another is under lockdown at a military base in Britain and the last one is at S.T.A.R. Labs where Dr. Bernard Klein is conducting tests on it for medical purposes.”

“The potential to help solve the current energy crisis is fascinating; however, the medical properties are even more interesting.” Superman said.

“One of the technicians in the Leeds facility had a benign brain tumor for several years. Such medical conditions are always closely monitored. ‘Benign’ tumor can be misleading; although they may not be cancerous, surrounding tissue can be affected. In any case, shortly after he started working on the project the cells began to shrink, then disappear. After a number of exhaustive tests it was determined for some strange reason the crystals had completely cured his condition.”

The General continued the slide presentation by showing ‘before and after’ pictures of a number of people. “Naturally additional tests were conducted with other patients, some of them facing death. The crystals cured all patients, except for the most advanced cases; simply by exposure to the crystals for a week or more.”

“It seems the crystals are highly prized for a myriad of reasons.” The superhero responded.

“We need your assistance to track down whoever stole these crystals, Superman. They can be a source of tremendous good for humanity….or evil.”

***

Lois quickly dialed the main number to LexCorp on her cell while buying cough drops and Echinacea at Myers drugstore. Within moments of being transferred, she heard the cheerful voice of Ms. Milan’s assistant, informing the reporter that although the media liaison’s schedule was booked, a few minutes could be spared for questions. Lois was mildly taken aback at the swiftness with which an interview with Aykira Milan had been granted.

She wondered with a mental snort if it had to do with Lex Luthor’s slight flirtation during their interview ‘dinner’ months ago. She had put a firm stop to his attentions by pushing for his real family background. But Luthor, as maddeningly elusive as ever, skillfully avoided all questions he didn’t want to answer. A couple of dates followed, one to the opera and another one at a charity wine tasting. Neither occasion yielded anything but rudimentary, previously unknown information on the billionaire.

The article was slated for the Daily Planet’s Weekend Section. Hence, with a deadline looming, Lois wrote up a story and Perry printed it, but they both knew it was not up to her usual standards. Shortly thereafter Lex stopped calling and Lois had to admit a rare defeat. Perhaps this was his way of saying ‘sorry’ by allowing her easy access to his assistant?

Grabbing a yellow Metrocab outside the pharmacy, Lois sat back, reached into her briefcase and pulled out her notebook, concentrating on formulaling certain questions to ask Ms. Milan. Lois was engrossed in her interview preparation; time spiraled away while the cab wove through Metropolis’ crowded sodden streets. The city’s atmosphere fairly teemed with constant motion. Its inhabitants, as cyclists, in trucks, and in cars rode by bumping into potholes and blowing horns to avoid other vehicles. Sidewalks held couples walking hand in hand, people chattering on large cell phones and street vendors hawking their wares.

All this frenzied activity rolled by largely ignored by the reporter; having long since lost interest in the passing cityscape, she was always intent upon reaching a destination and its story.

Looking up from her notebook, she was pleasantly surprised to realize they had arrived at the imposing, glass covered skyscraper that was the headquarters of LexCorp. Alighting from the cab, she breathed in the mid-morning air still lightly humid from the previous night’s rainfall.

Walking into the ultramodern lobby, and after receiving a temporary security tag, Lois approached the main bank of elevators and took the special express elevator to the 110th floor. Bobby Bigmouth had mentioned it was better known sarcastically among the employees of LexCorp as “Luthor’s lair.”  The doors opened into a reception area tastefully decorated in twenties-style art deco. Lois walked over to a young Asian woman behind the desk who directed her towards Aykira’s office suite.

Upon opening the door marked Special Assistant to the President, Lois entered the office suite and noticed a tall middle-aged woman with soft auburn hair framing her face and with laughing deep green eyes.  “Hello!” she said brightly, “You must be Lois Lane of the Daily Planet.”  The tall woman came around her desk and shook the reporter’s outstretched hand.  Her voice thick with a down-home North Carolina accent, she continued happily, “We spoke on the phone earlier, my name is Jane Winley, Ms. Milan’s assistant.  She’s in a meeting; as can be imagined, today has been a busy one.  I understand you are probably on a deadline. But please wait in her office; it’ll only take a few more minutes. How about something refreshing to drink?”

“A cup of tea, with a teaspoon of sweetener, if it’s not too much trouble, please. Maybe this cold will go away.”  Smiling, Lois said wryly, “The assistant has an assistant. LexCorp must be humming these days.  When was it announced Ms. Milan was the media liaison for this situation?  Shouldn’t someone from public relations speak to the media?”

Smiling ruefully, Jane deflected the inquiry. “I’m sure Ms. Milan can provide such details a lot better than I can.  This way, please.”  Jane walked over to the other side of her office and opened the door, ushering Lois inside.

Neither ‘office’ nor ‘workplace’ was the proper word to begin describing such a sumptuous room.  During previous visits to Lex’s office and home, the museum décor always gave Lois a strong sense of guarded apprehension, its sole occupant determined to impress guests and clients with shouts of impressive wealth. This space however, was quite different.

The media liaison’s office suite was designed to set visitors at their ease with gentle comforts, a sign of true graciousness, not artifice.  The room was painted in calming colors of creams and blues, with the large area rug underneath the desk repeating the color palette in a bold grid pattern. Behind the desk, exquisitely designed Brazilian hardwood built-ins maximized wall space in grand library style.  As Lois’ eyes scanned the shelves of each built-in, she saw well-thumbed books covering a wide range of subjects, from physics, finance, and European history.

Perfectly framed pictures of the Swiss Alps mountain range, Big Ben at night, the Tuscany countryside and a picture of Brasilia, Brazil taken by Ms. Milan on her numerous travels were displayed in matching brown picture frames in various sizes. Books, photos, hand woven baskets and several personal items stated the occupant of this space loved her work, yet possessed a world traveler’s eye.  A short blue vase of pale pink tulips sat on her desk, the final touch of elegance; this was a workspace almost any woman would appreciate.

A stroke of envy ran through Lois as she sank luxuriously into the chairs upholstered in deep, lush, heavy cream fabric.  For the hundredth time she wished the furniture salesperson hadn’t coaxed her into buying stylish but totally uncomfortable couches in her own apartment.

The desk, a reproduction of a 19th century French writing table, was supported on slender curved legs, grounded the room in the understated elegance of a bygone era. Jane came in with a steaming cup of tea, placed it on the table beside the chair then departed without a word. Lois wasn’t happy about waiting for Ms. Milan but nothing was to be done…yet. She sat back, sipped her beverage and continued enjoying the delicious décor until her interviewee arrived.

***

Upstairs in Lex Luthor’s office suite, an intense conversation between the billionaire and his assistant was taking place.

“Mr. Luthor, a working relationship already exists between you and this reporter. Ever since your early call this morning, I wondered, ‘Why must I take the interview?’”

“Ah, Miss Lane is not just *any* reporter; she and her partner are the *best* in their field of newspaper investigative journalism.  Handling her properly is good training for a media liaison.”

Unconvinced, his assistant pushed her point. “Much as your trust in my abilities is appreciated, sir, it is *still* not clear why I should handle the follow-up on the Shackleton situation with her, or any reporter for that matter?  Isn’t the press release sufficient?”

“Credibility, my dear Ms. Milan.”  Lex countered petulantly. “An open dialogue with a media liaison instead of me riding into the fray provides assurance that although this theft will have an adverse effect on LexCorp, the subsequent investigation is routine.  Miss Lane’s story in the Daily Planet will calm the public’s concerns.  Employment at LexSolar, especially among the scientists, continues without interruption.  Now, I’m sure Lois is already in your office; please do not keep her waiting. She comes by her reputation for impatience honestly.”

Turning aside from his assistant, he strode over to the balcony doors and was about to step into the slightly humid spring morning air, washed clean and sweet after last night’s rain. Not hearing the office door close, he looked back at the dark woman and saw the hard glint of resentment at his casual dismissal mirrored in her cool hazel eyes.  Luthor walked over, laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, and said encouragingly, “No one on my staff can handle Lois Lane with quite like you, Aykira.  All the important facts that we and the police have deduced are in your report. This is not a major media/business disaster for LexCorp.  Simply respond directly and honestly to all her questions.”

***

Suddenly a thousand heartbeats began to race inside and a lump formed in her throat, as she felt the heat of his touch through her clothes.  Aykira’s mind overflowed with sensual thoughts she had no earthly business entertaining. It was as if the original purpose for her presence in this office were thrust violently aside. She wanted to feel so much more than one touch. Abruptly reminding herself where she was and realizing Lex had bestowed a generous compliment she replied softly, “I shall do my best, Mr. Luthor.”  Then she quietly exited his office.

***

Lex walked out to the large balcony past the beautifully designed Smith and Hawkins black wrought iron table and lavishly upholstered chairs and stood looking over the great city in deep contemplation for several minutes. All thoughts of his complex business empire and the Harmonic Crystals were temporarily moved aside. For now, he was simply a man, wrestling with an age old dilemma.

Touching her was another mistake… an overt act of tenderness, first, a veiled, but serious offer to share the comforts of his apartment and perhaps the warmth of his bed. Now his senses were overwhelmed with desire for greater intimacy beyond merely touching her shoulder. He was being drawn in - not by her beauty - but by her strength and integrity. Physical and emotional control was an ability he prided himself on, but now its steady erosion was becoming a source of concern. His head began to ache painfully and his hands trembled ever so slightly. No woman, not even Arianna, had ever affected him like this. God help him, he wanted her. When the time was ripe, Aykira would no longer be his assistant, not a mere lover, but his wife.

If that were to be the case, serious modifications to his plans must immediately be made.

His musings were interrupted by the sound of silken cloth and gentle footsteps; his major-domo, Asabi, walked onto the immense balcony towards him. Asabi’s serene appearance was ever so misleading to the casual observer. Since his replacement of the retired Nigel St. John, he had dispatched all tasks with an accuracy that exceeded even Luthor’s expectations. Still, Luthor missed the former MI6 operative; Nigel’s sense of humor and dry wit matched that of his employer’s.

No matter how hard Lex tried to lure the former spy back in his employ, it was met with a polite but firm refusal. Should he surface again by Luthor’s side, MI6 would take a rather dim view of such an arrangement. Hence Nigel remained safely (and anonymously) in Zurich.

“Dr. Scott’s plan to rob the Shackleton was carried out to perfection. All the Harmonic Crystals are accounted for, Mr. Luthor. Experimentation and construction of the solar panels and the main power generator will begin immediately.”

“Thank you, Asabi.” The billionaire bowed his head in thought than spoke softly. “I have another task for you.”

Asabi stood waiting his employer’s pleasure.

Make sure all the evidence regarding this particular operation is laid at Dr. Scott’s doorstep. The man has a reputation for being rather obnoxious and ambitious. Of course, all of this is only necessary if our little *enterprise* is exposed.” This last was said without Lex’s usual suave ease.

“It will be done, sir.” Bowing Asabi departed from his employer with the same stealth as his entrance.

Lex went back to contemplating the city below and the sky above, his headache… and other things, momentarily forgotten.

***

Returning from Lex’s office Aykira felt torn; pleased that he had so much confidence in her talents, yet wary of being drawn ever closer to the man. She was also deeply concerned about the forthcoming face off with Lois...her ‘friend’.  Fully aware of the other woman’s investigative skills, Aykira knew consenting to do an interview with her, no matter how short, was a mistake. Thinking back to her past; there were no less than three occasions Lois had dismantled confident interviewees starting with a simple disarming question and keeping hammering with more questions until she cornered the person into telling the truth.

Watching Lois and her erstwhile partner, Clark Kent, in action was fascinating, even pleasurable to observe, but now *she* was the subject. Mentally shaking herself, Aykira thought, <As long as I stick to the facts and not allow myself to be intimidated, Lois cannot possibly lead me into saying the wrong thing. There is nothing *wrong* to say. LexCorp’s workings are second nature to me; she is the outsider looking for a story.>

Feeling confident, the media liaison smiled upon entering her office suite, and seeing Jane sitting quietly at her desk carefully going over an e-mail, Aykira spoke, “My meeting with Mr. Luthor ran longer than expected. Has Miss Lane arrived?”

Looking up from her monitor, the assistant smiled back.  “Yes, she’s inside, waiting. Aykira, her reputation as a sharp investigative reporter is well earned, she’s already asked about your involvement as media liaison for the robbery. After all, this is a much more demanding situation then discussing the release of a new product line for Lex-Mart.”

“No need to be concerned.  Miss Lane is probably looking for follow-up material to this early morning robbery onboard the Shackleton. Not inviting the newspapers, especially The Daily Planet, was a foolish mistake; they do not like to be ignored.  Please, provide my press release when she departs.  Also, what time is Dr. George Amundsen arriving?”

Jane consulted her calendar.  “Around 10:00 a.m.”

“Good. It is 9:30 now; give me fifteen minutes with her.  Then interrupt us, say my next appointment is on the way up.”

Jane nodded agreement and continued working on the e-mail.

Aykira crossed the outer office, placed a hand on the doorknob, inhaled deeply and entered her office suite.

***

Hearing the door open, Lois twisted in the chair and stood up, facing an attractive, athletic medium-built African American woman in her early thirties.  Her hair and makeup was stylish and well applied.  Ms. Milan was clad in a chic aqua blue dress with blue high-heeled shoes. Her jewelry was not the latest fad, but pleasing-to-the-eye silver pieces Lois suspected had been collected during world travels.  There was one piece in particular; a thick, square silver ring with intricate symbols carved on the sides and worn on her right index finger.  The woman’s manner was businesslike, but not aloof; she smiled warmly at Lois and extended her hand in greeting.

“Please accept my apologizes for keep you waiting, Ms. Lane.  These meetings regarding last night’s theft have been non-stop."

Lois couldn’t help but feel as if she had met Aykira Milan before. Her kind comportment reminded the reporter of someone, but she could not quite put her finger on it. If Aykira were not the subject of this interview, the two might even be on friendly terms. Lois surprised herself by saying, “Please don’t concern yourself, my time was well spent admiring your furnishings and the photographs - your office decor is quite unique.  Did all of this come with the job?”

The administrative assistant smiled knowingly, “Mr. Luthor appreciates his senior executive staff and their assistants’ hard work and long hours.  We have an extensive decorating budget; although, the photographs, artwork and books are from my own collection.  Traveling is a passion of mine, but since becoming Mr. Luthor’s assistant I only travel for business.  Please,” she said extending her hand towards the chair just vacated, “make yourself comfortable.”  The reporter happily settled again into the chair allowing its warm, comfortable fabric to surround her.

“Now, I understand you have some follow-up questions?” Aykira said as she sat down.

“Yes.” Lois reached into her briefcase, pulled out her reporter’s notebook and opened to the marked page.  "But before we begin, I mentioned to your assistant Jane, it’s strange for the executive administrative assistant to Lex Luthor to be handling such a high profile situation as this.  Shouldn’t the head of Public Relations be the media liaison?”

“This is a valid question.  Usually Mr. Luthor or someone from our PR department does handle matters of this nature. However in this instance, he has decided to expand my responsibilities and allow me to work with the media regarding the theft.”

<Cat was right,> Lois thought to herself.  <Someone so unknown outside of LexCorp must be extremely competent to work for Lex on this level.>

“Several months before the Shackleton robbery, LexCorp ordered a rather substantial shipment of microprocessors from Barontech, in Leeds, England.  Doesn’t the company have a standing contract with Comptronics in Silicon Valley?”

Nodding in agreement, Aykira responded, “Absolutely. LexCorp does business with both companies.  Our international customers request Barontech products, while the domestic customers require Comptronics. It is simply a matter of domestic and international configurations being quite different.  Since Barontech services the European market and Comptronics domestic, it saves LexCorp millions in conversion fees.  All computers fabricated from Barontech microprocessors are slated for the European market.  If you wish, I can contact our legal department and have them messenger over a copy of our agreement with both companies.”

Lois, impressed with Aykira’s refreshing candor, responded. “That would be very helpful. Thanks.”

Waving her pen hand, Lois continued. “You know, I’ve been covering news about LexCorp for years; it seems the company as a whole and Mr. Luthor in particular is taking a relaxed stance regarding the theft of microprocessors whose street value is well over 5.2 million dollars.  He usually keeps such a close eye on his companies’ activities as well as maintains a strong relationship with the public.  A theft of this magnitude, even if it is only five crates out of twenty, should be a personal affront to his professional pride.  Having anyone else publicly handling the matter might be perceived by his enemies as a sign of... weakness?”

The atmosphere between the two women imperceptively shifted from friendly accommodation to wary tension.  Lois leaned forward, scrutinizing Aykira’s reaction.  But again, the answers were direct and honest, although this time quite pointed.

“Right. First, the microprocessors are well insured, as was mentioned this morning at the press conference.  Second, our technicians at LexCorp will not be affected by loss of employment between shipments.  Third. There will be a ‘slight’ down tick on our production of computers, but another microprocessor shipment is departing from Leeds early next week.  As for that other salient point, Mr. Luthor has a myriad of business interests.  It is impossible for him to oversee *all* of them. He requested me to interface with the media and the authorities because of my knowledge of our micro processing business both from a manufacturer’s standpoint as well as the impact on LexCorp.”

“Hmm, fast turnaround on Barontech’s side.”  Lois jotted into her notebook.  Looking up she said, “I appreciate the information. LexCorp technicians jobs are safe, but what about the scientists at LexSolar? Rumor has it the ones specializing in solar energy have been putting in a great deal of overtime. Working on a new project... to build and design solar panels… to power Space Station Lex.”

“Solar panels?”  The other woman’s face displayed confusion.  “Excuse me; there is nothing in our reports about solar panels, only computers for private industry.”

Taking a chance, the reporter pressed her advantage, “According to my source, the microprocessors were not stolen at all, but a new technology for powering those solar panels which was originally slated for Space Station Prometheus 2 – something called Harmonic Crystals.”

This time a myriad of emotions from surprise and happiness moved across the media liaison’s face, but finally settled on resentment.  Swiftly the features schooled themselves to a calmness her body language did not agree with.  “What did you say?  Harmonic Crystals?”

Lois got the distinct impression the rug had been ‘pulled from under Aykira Milan’.  “I was hoping you could tell me.” Lois replied candidly.

Before the other woman could speak, a gentle knocking on the door interrupted them and Jane entered the room.  “Excuse me, Ms. Milan, but your 10:00 appointment is on the way up from the lobby.”

The resentment departed from Aykira’s face to be replaced with a look that could only be described as profound relief, the competent administrative assistant returned.  Rising from her chair and coming around the desk.  She extended a hand of farewell to Lois.  “I am sorry we cannot finish this interview.  My regular appointments are backed up.”

“Could we make an appointment to finish this?” Lois said as she stood and placed the briefcase strap over her shoulder.

Aykira glanced at her watch, than shook her head in dismay.  “That won’t be possible for the time being. I understand the Daily Planet’s printers have a deadline. Please ask Jane to consult my calendar for a phone interview later this afternoon and provide you with the press release.  It has been... interesting meeting you, Miss Lane.”

***

Lois spoke briefly with Jane Winley regarding where to send copies of the contracts from Barontech and Comptronics. Despite the reporter’s best efforts to push for a twenty minute follow-up phone interview later that morning in time for the evening edition’s deadline, Aykira’s assistant firmly refused to alter her boss’s schedule and granted Lois only ten minutes in the late afternoon. The business of running LexCorp came first. Mollified, Lois departed the office suite.

Standing in front of the express elevator, she mused on Aykira’s 10:00 appointment, wondering if it was real or phony. <No, this woman was a professional; if she wanted to end the interview, she would have told me honestly, but graciously.>

The sound of the elevator doors snapping open brought her mind back to her surroundings. A tall, well-built man with slightly balding, sandy colored hair and a hawk like nose emerged from inside. He touched his glasses with a nervous gesture that reminded Lois of her partner. The man’s mind was several million miles away; he nearly collided with her.

“Um…pardon me…Oh! Miss Lane!”

“George Amundsen… isn’t it? You are Cat Grant’s friend. We meet some months ago at the Daily Planet.”

“Um…Yes, that’s me,” he smiled a lopsided, nervous grin and touched his glasses. “Uh, I hate to rush off, but I’m going to be late for my appointment. He jerked his thumb towards the receptionist. “You understand?” So saying, the scientist bowed his head, muttered a quick farewell, and briskly walked to the reception desk.

Shaking her head in a bemused manner, Lois entered the elevator and snickered. “That is the *wild* man? He seems more like a nervous rabbit!” A thought struck her. <George must be Aykira’s appointment. According to Diane, he’s one of the lead physicists for LexSolar. But why would he need to see her? Scientists, even the best ones, are not high on the food chain in any company. On the other hand, Aykira is Lex’s ‘eyes and ears’. Maybe he has something to discuss? Perhaps the heavy schedule over at LexSolar, a bigger server to handle the computers workloads, budgets? Who knows? Ridiculous! A man like him involved with international intrigue? What a stretch!> Groaning aloud in frustration, Lois slapped the ‘down’ button for the main lobby.

During the descent, her mind went over the brief interview. <Aykira Milan was, despite her efforts to hide it, deeply affected when I mentioned ‘Harmonic Crystals’, like it was good news, but still bad news.> Also, she could not shake the nagging feeling of déjà vu - they had met previously.

<Time to get back to the Daily Planet and have Jimmy dig up whatever he can on both Ms. Milan and Dr. Amundsen, there might be a connection.>

The elevator jogged to a stop; its wide doors opened and a determined reporter-on-the-prowl of a hot story emerged from its confines. Handing over her ID badge to the security desk, she headed outside once again onto the damp, noisy streets of Metropolis and hailed a cab. <This feels like a great story in the making.> She thought as the car nosed cautiously into traffic. <This cabbie had better get a move on; I have to get back to my computer. Achoo! And some more oolong tea> she thought, sighing internally.

***

Across town and fifty floors above, Clark landed on the Planet’s rooftop, spun into street clothes, opened the door and sped downstairs. His meeting with General Zeitlin took longer than expected; Perry would probably demand an explanation for his long absence. Clark thought, <Telling him I spoke with a source regarding last night’s theft might appease him. Meanwhile I still need to get my other story written up in time for the next weekend edition.> He mentally put aside his meeting at EPRAD as Superman. Clark started thinking about his duties as a Daily Planet reporter.

Because of their ‘Best News in Town’ slogan, Perry expected his team of top reporters to occasionally produce soft news or human interest stories for the Planet’s Weekend Section. Currently Clark was working on a story involving a favorite local yarn shop called Rhapsody Knits; its owner Grace Chen, sold high quality knitting yarns from all over the world. For the past five years of the store’s fifteen-year existence, she and many of her friends knitted exquisite hats, fingerless gloves, and shawls for cancer victims.

Herself a breast cancer survivor, Ms. Chen knew the importance of compassionate care for victims of the disease. Chemotherapy often left the patient with loss of hair and sensitivity to the cold. While undergoing therapy, she taught knitting and crocheting; the soothing activities gave herself and her students a focus, taking back their lives from the disease.

When her oncologist told Grace the cancer had gone into remission, it was a momentous victory. However, she did not stop teaching cancer patients, but went one step further. She held a meeting with a number of artisans throughout the city, asking them to donate leftover yarn, needles, and mostly their time once a month. In the large back room of her store, men and women would sit down and create the items for donation to cancer victims in hospitals in and around Metropolis. Several of her student/patients, also in remission, made scarves, gloves, and hats - paying forward, as it were, the favor.

Clark had learned about Ms. Chen from Lois’ Uncle Mike, who donated refreshments to the group. Rhapsody Knits was across the street from his restaurant. Thinking such community-minded activity could use media exposure, Mike asked if an article could be written in the Planet’s Weekend section. Lois always shied away from such stories; considering her writing style as too blunt a force. So Clark’s writing abilities were volunteered.

After a few casual meetings with Ms. Chen and her artisan friends, Clark wrote up the story, pulling from his rough notes and recordings made during his visit on one of the artisan’s work days. Jimmy had taken several photos of the quaint shop with neatly arranged yarns in every type and color. One photo in the store’s large rear workroom showed a beaming Grace with her five staff members, six contributing artisans and two recipients of donated sweaters crowded around a large rectangle wooden crafts table. The table was covered with several colorful hats, scarves, sweaters and other hand-woven garments ready to be packed up and distributed to hospitals and homebound patients.

Clark felt immensely proud of this particular piece; it showed people at their best, helping others. Superman accomplished magnificent rescues on the world’s stage, whereas people like Grace, her staff and Uncle Mike really made a difference in small, neighborly ways. Their story, although not hard-hitting like the theft of Harmonic Crystals, deserved telling.

Stepping into the newsroom, Clark reached his desk, booted up the idle computer and began writing the story’s final draft. If he worked without interruption, it ought to be complete before the Weekend edition deadline. After a few minutes deeply engrossed in his task, Clark sensed the absence of his lovely partner. Pausing for a minute, as if to consider a line of text on the monitor screen; he listened intently throughout the building for her delicate heartbeat.

Nothing.

Where *was* she? Checking on a lead to another story, he hoped. Now was not the time to attack one of Lex’s minions…especially not his executive assistant/media liaison without irrefutable evidence, the results of intensive research. Lois was working with her intuition, wafer thin assumptions and one snitch’s questionable word.

Looking around, he did not see Jimmy, Cat or Perry. They *might* have an idea where she went. He quietly prayed she was at the Java Perk Coffee Shoppe getting another low-fat mocha latte.

Gazing up the ramp, he saw Steve stirring his latest cup at the coffee machine and leaving his desk headed towards him. “Hey Steve, have you seen Lois?”

“Hmm, not since this morning when I snapped up your note from that weasel Ralph and gave it to her.”

Annoyed, Clark responded, “What was Ralph doing with my note?”

“Far as I could see, using it as bait. He wanted to know which of her sources sent you two out to Metropolis Harbor last night.”

At that moment, the elevator doors snapped open to release Lois. She strode assertively down the ramp towards Clark and the sportswriter. Upon reaching them, the excited brunette launched into giving marching orders, at full babble mode no less.

“Great Clark, you’re back! We need to get a conference room and pull together our notes from your interview with General Zeitlin and mine with Aykira Milan. Oh, what did Superman say about his conversation with the General? Where’s Jimmy? I need him to run a full background check on Aykira Milan. That woman is hiding something.” She began digging into her briefcase, searching for her notepad.

Steve smiled, laid a reassuring hand on Clark’s shoulder, shook his head and moved off, leaving the younger man to handle his keyed up partner.

“Whoa, Lois! *I* did not interview General Zeitlin. He asked to speak with Superman and I merely passed on the message.”

”Yeah, like he didn’t at least tell you something! Come on!” Grabbing him by the tie, she dragged him into the nearby conference room. She turned, stuck her head outside the door, lovely brunette hair swaying. She spotted the office gofer and yelled, “Jimmy, get in here!” Then shut the door.

“Okay Clark; don’t hold out on me…spill! Achoo!” Again, Lois sneezed with all her might.

“The last time we heard *that* word, this whole paper chase started!” Clark’s additional comments were interrupted by an impatient knocking on the conference room door.

Without turning away from Clark, Lois shouted, “Come in Jimmy!” Instead of the cub reporter’s handsome young face, Perry walked through the door. Gazing at both of them, he spoke in a surprisingly soft tone. “Lois. Huh, mind telling me where you’ve been most of this morning? You and Clark have spent enough time on this rather thin story without solid facts, not half-baked assumptions. There are other assignments on your inbox. Like the Stone and Mercantile Bank story. An announcement went out an hour ago their CEO might step down. So, the piece needs a new ending for this evening’s edition. I want the Shackleton case dropped for now.”

“Can’t Elsie in re-write handle that? There’s a story here, it hasn’t dried up! If Clark and I can spend just a few hours combining our notes...”

Perry held up a finger to forestall Lois’ barrage. “Hold on now, I have to get off this train you’re driving. Finish the re-write *first*, then if there’s time in the afternoon, you two can work on the Shackleton piece. But if I don’t see any tangible results I pull the plug. Deal?”

Looking like a child denied its sweet, Lois mumbled, “Deal Perry.”

“Good. Now make like Elvis listening to the Colonel in the recording studio and get back to work. A newspaper runs on paper, ink, stories and hard facts!”

***

Lois finished her Stone and Mercantile re-write in record time. Unfortunately, as she was submitting it to Perry a phone call from one of her sources who told her the CEO was not going to step down after all. Rolling her eyes in frustration, she made deft changes to the last two paragraphs and again sent the story to Perry.

With the article written and all other tasks accomplished, Lois began a rough article outline from her interview notes with Aykira. Another phone call announcing a last minute news conference by the mayor required her and Clark’s immediate attention for the remainder of the day.

Part Four

Grateful for the end of a long working day at the Daily Planet, and the clandestine conference with General Zeitlin still on his mind, Clark was relieved to arrive at his apartment at 344 Clinton.

After depositing his business suit into the dry cleaning bag, he dressed in comfortable gray sweats and turned the TV to the Metros playoff game. Clark entered the well-stocked kitchen alcove and began preparing dinner. He pulled out Idaho potatoes, salad fixings, and a thick marinating NY strip steak, with portobello mushrooms, red peppers, and onions. He placed the steak and vegetables into a grilling skillet and waited for it to cook. Heat vision was good for a number of things, but not for cooking an expensive steak!

Ruefully, he thought of Bobby Bigmouth while slicing the vegetables. <The snitch would probably move faster than me when it comes to food.> With super speed the potatoes were sliced, placed into a shallow pan and drizzled with pungent oil olive laced with rosemary and oregano, then the Asian salad was tossed and everything was laid on the small kitchen table.

Glancing at his wine rack, Clark thought, <All I need now is a proper glass of wine to accent the meal.>

Abruptly, the evening’s quiet mood was broken by insistent knocking on the front door.

<At times like this, I really love x-ray vision,> he thought gratefully, lowering his glasses while looking through the door. His rather agitated landlady, a middle-aged African-American woman by the name of Gloria Harper, stood holding a pet carrier. Sighing, he crossed his small living room, strode up the stairs, and opened the door.

“Good evening, Mrs. Harper what can I do for you?”

“Mr. Kent, thank goodness you are home! There is an out-of-town family emergency and I need to be gone for a week. Could you look after Pepper for me? He really likes you and everyone else is either unavailable or allergic. The last time I took him to a kennel it was not a good experience for him.”

“Huh um…well.” He didn’t know what to say. Besides work, his duties as Superman commanded a great deal of his time. A cat needed feeding, attention, and a frequently cleaned litter box…urgh.

“Oh, he can stay in my apartment,” Mrs. Harper said. “Feed him in the morning and when you arrive home. Talk to him…maybe a little petting? To cover for any inconvenience, this month’s rent is dropped by two hundred dollars. Please Mr. Kent!”

Suddenly a quiet meow was heard from the carrier. Clark looked inside to see a sleek black, white and light brown cat; the feline stared gently up at him with sparkling green eyes. Reaching a gentle paw through the grating, Pepper patted Clark’s arm to emphasize his desire to stay. “Meow”?

“It’s okay.” He spoke gently to the little animal. How could he resist those pleading eyes? “Pepper can stay here with me, *not* in an empty apartment.” After taking the carrier from the relieved landlady, several minutes were spent discussing the cat’s habits and food needs. A grateful Mrs. Harper gave Clark the keys to her apartment, a phone number for emergencies, than she departed for Metro airport.

After letting Pepper out of his confinement, the inquisitive feline proceeded to explore Clark’s apartment. It was hilarious watching him poking around corners and attempting to open doors. He even reached up to touch the wine rack’s bottom row. Bored with the main room, Pepper walked to the open door of Clark’s special closet where his extra Superman suits were stored and started sniffing, scratching and then plaintively yowling, anxious to solve the elusive mystery by walking around inside.

“Smart cat. You know something about me Lois *doesn’t*.” Smiling at the cat’s antics Clark went back to preparing his dinner, wondering in the back of his mind what his lovely partner’s reaction to the little animal might be.

An hour later, dinner eaten and the dishes complete, Clark lay comfortably on his couch continuing to watch Game 2 between the Metros and Denver Nuggets. Another tight athletic contest was in heated progress.

“Meow?”

Looking down, Clark noticed a pair of bright green eyes staring up at him expectantly. Leaning against his couch, the cat stretched its lithe body upward and meowed again.

Patting the couch cushions, he invited Pepper up. Without hesitation, the cat leapt up, touched his nose to Clark’s then proceed to walk over the top of the couch until he found the ‘perfect nesting spot’ close to Clark’s head. Smiling, Clark returned his attention to the game and listened to the animal’s gentle purring in companionable silence.

The evening’s tranquility was broken again, this time by the shrill ring of his phone.

“Hello?”

<Clark, it’s me Lois. Do you have any more oolong tea? Achoo!>

Listening to her stuffy nose and slightly scratchy throat, he responded. “That cold is getting worse. Why don’t I pack up dinner and come over instead?”

Her voice sounding soft, tender, and not a little tired she said. <Don’t go to any trouble, just the tea. I’m finally getting a chance to watch my… ah nature show.>

“It’s okay. I am coming over there, see you in thirty minutes.”

***

Finally, the last e-mail of the day was sent. Aykira leaned back and shut down her computer. Today had been long and tiring, yet triumphant. Finally, after many years, a difficult and dangerous mission was drawing to a close. Her mind needed a break from LexCorp, the media and most important of all, Lex Luthor.

Time to shake up the routine; her body needed a vigorous, workout and Carrie’s kickboxing class was the answer. Glancing at her watch she thought, <If I hurry to the gym I might make it before Studio 2 gets packed.> Quickly, she gathered her laptop and briefcase and then walked out the office. Jane was still hard at work on a PowerPoint presentation.

<The woman is a marvel, but she needs a break.> Aykira thought.

“Jane. Pack up your computer and go home. Scott comes first.”

The red haired assistant looked up from the monitor. “Not a problem! Give me only two minutes! Have a pleasant night; are you going to the gym?”

“Yes. If Carrie can squeeze me into her kickboxing class.”

Waving good night to her assistant, Aykira departed the building as quickly as possible. Hailing a cab, she endured a ten-minute drive uptown in congested ‘rush hour’ traffic towards Health life Gym.

***

[Jab. Jab. Uppercut. Right cross.]

Sweat poured profusely down Aykira’s face and neck, soaking her hair and the front of her cream spandex clad body.

Her mind thought furiously back a few hours to that mangled, yet revealing interview. <If I stood my ground with Lex and refused an interview with Lois Lane, this precious information regarding the crystals would not have been discovered. One does not compete with one of the most intuitive minds in the journalistic world unprepared. It is a recipe for failure. Still the near disaster yielded unexpected fruit. Fruit I came to Metropolis for and hopefully can soon depart for home with.>

[Lifting a nine-pound bar she brought it into position to ‘mock strike’ her opponent in the head than move rapidly, to the solar plexus.]

She had crossed a universe and three continents hunting down those wretched crystals. The manufacturing team in Leeds created them when Bern’s chronometer indicated they would. Sadly, due to a mathematical error, she was stuck in this universe. Also, making the attempt to enter Barontech’s heavily secured complex far exceeded her talents. Hiring professionals for the job was out of the question; they constituted loose ends. Aykira hated loose ends.

So the waiting game commenced; working as Lex’s assistant was the perfect position to monitor Barontech’s progress reports on the crystals as well as LexCorp’s microprocessors. In time, she developed a reputation for understanding the process of creating the latter while keeping an undercover surveillance on the former through her contacts at Barontech. Whenever EPRAD requested the crystals shipped, she intended to be notified and in position to acquire a dozen of the crystals.

{Left Knee up…kick!}

Her opponent narrowly avoided another ‘mock strike’.

Unfortunately, her extremely well paid contact at Barontech failed to inform her about the shipment.

If Lois Lane had not mentioned anything, her ignorance would have continued and more time, perhaps another year would be lost. Remaining here for additional years might put her entire mission in jeopardy; eventually her ‘unique’ biology could raise uncomfortable questions. Her time, as well as *his*, was running out.

{Lift bar. Strike left, smooth upward movement, keep arms loose, elbows unlocked.}

Lois kept asking questions about microprocessors, personnel schedules, physicists working overtime. What are she and her ubiquitous partner working on? It sounds like a bigger story than just the Shackleton theft. Some questions were easily averted, others Aykira answered truthfully, while for the remainder no sufficient explanation was forthcoming.

Smiling inwardly Aykira thought, [Excellent intel. Some of those Daily Planet researchers need to work for LexCorp.]

Considering Lois Lane, the investigative reporter would return, this time, with her partner in tow. Facing one was bad enough, but *both* of them? Her facts needed to be unimpeachable and no evasive answers to any of their questions. Again she mused, [Why did Lex want her to face this morning’s media barrage rather than himself? He *thrived* on sparring with TV reporters, many of whom were on LNN’s payroll.]

Lex Luthor the man was another problem. For two and a half years, she had battled a relentless emotional and physical attraction to him, but lately her efforts had been faltering. Aykira was living in a world not her own; interacting with doppelgangers of associates, close friends and loved ones. The strain and absolute isolation was beginning to take its toll.

[What happens if I return home and this whole quest was a failure?]

The world will have its desperately needed energy source, but he who is most precious to me will be a mere shell.

Her mind traveled back to her conversation with Luthor early that morning.

<Consider it an instant promotion,> he said over the phone at 4:30 a.m. <Your manifold abilities should not be wasted as my mere assistant or just making small announcements about new product lines. This is the perfect way to begin your media exposure.> She could hear the smile in his voice. He was planning something. Was she were being groomed for some greater role within LexCorp?

Than after the press conference, she was in his office suite, arguing against having an interview with Lois.

That argument culminated with the subliminal mental, physical and emotional exchange between them, beginning with his soothing touch. Her body responded instantly, craving more contact she had no right to yearn for. Could Lex sense her desire? Her isolation and utter loneliness? Did he want her for more than a moment’s pleasure?

Aykira was no fool, she knew how charming Lex could be when he desired something. Earth knows, the man could have just about any woman he wanted. Nonetheless, his behavior towards her had always been different in a number of subtle ways. She reflected briefly on the scientist Toni Baines. Toni was a thorn in her side here as well. Aykira’s immediate attention required focusing on that particular individual upon her return home.

If Lex’s affection was real, could she abandon her quest to satisfy long denied emotional needs? What if after all the deception and struggle she had endured, the lives she had altered, she could simply send the crystals to her home and remain here… by Luthor’s side?

No. Remaining here meant definite exposure.

Exposure yes, of the kind best diligently avoided. This particular kind of exposure only brought her in contact with persons she dreaded like Lane and Kent…the hottest investigative journalist team since Norcross and Judd. If she did not step evenly, six years of patient planning and waiting would come to an abrupt end.

{Strike!} A sharp jolt of pain shot through her right shoulder. Her sparring partner shouted, “Heads up Aykira! Caught you that time!”

[Caught indeed,] she thought bitterly.

***

“Partner, thanks so much for tea and the dinner!  It was a lifesaver!  Achoo!”

“From late night stakeouts; to early morning interviews and little or no rest in-between. Lois, your body is telling... no, demanding some down time and you want to compare notes about our interviews? In the first place, what makes you think I got an interview with General Zeitlin?”

“Oh, please Clark, Superman must have told you *something*.”

“Maybe,” he said as he stood up. “I’m making us some chamomile tea; it should help let you sleep.  We can go over your interview notes.  While you’re sipping a fresh cup… and yes, we can discuss what Superman told me about the crystals.”

“Yes!” She squeaked triumphantly and pumped her fist. “The big fella never lets us down!”

Clark smiled as he pulled out a jar of honey and two packets of Chamomile tea from his backpack. Lois had a coffee maker, and blender on her kitchen counter - between the two was a small teapot. Swiftly he set out mugs, spoons and napkins. While waiting for the pot’s water to boil, they chatted amicably. Both of them always enjoyed spending time with each other. Clark brought two steaming mugs over to the couch and handed Lois hers. He sat down on the opposite couch. Savoring the delicate herbal blend as it passed over his tongue, he began speaking.

“One of these days, you need to learn basic cooking survival skills. Bobby was right.”

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, his partner shot back, “We are talking about the investigation, *not* my culinary skills, or lack thereof. Now come on, what did General Zeitlin tell Superman?”

It was just like her to avoid any uncomfortable subject by getting back to reporting. Honestly, the woman’s blood was probably newsprint ink. Her need to be the best, no matter the cost, was one of Lois’ traits he found attractive, yet was at odds with. Clark began explaining about where the crystals came from, stating it was a joint research effort between the United States and Great Britain. He moved on to their military, energy and amazing medical properties.

“Dr. Klein was brought in to study the Harmonic Crystals’ effect on brain tumor patients?” Lois asked. “Why? He’s not a medical doctor.”

“No, but he is a renowned authority on brain mapping, along with a couple of other talents he possesses.”

Lois smiled, “Does he *ever* leave S.T.A.R. Labs?”

“Apparently, it is not very often.” Clark replied drily. “He’s been helpful to scientists in several different fields. Kind of a Jack-of-all-trades, Master-of-none sort of thing, but his research yields results. Since coming to Metropolis, Superman has benefited from his expertise many times.”

“Not to mention the Daily Planet. It’s a good thing Jimmy’s old friend introduced them, otherwise where would we or Superman go when really thorny scientific questions require an answer?”

“That’s all Superman told me. General Zeitlin and EPRAD need his help tracking down whoever stole those crystals and it’s a sure bet they stole the microprocessors as a smoke screen.”

“Yeah well, the one piece of research I could get from Jimmy this afternoon was those crystals were not on the Shackleton’s manifest or the Harbor Master’s list.”

“Hmmm, amazing what a quick ‘pit stop’ at the Harbor Master’s office yielded.” Clark said ruefully. “You really shouldn’t have sneaked in there and stolen those papers. What if someone saw you?”

Ignoring his comment, Lois continued. “EPRAD and Barontech probably took the precaution of omitting the crystals’ presence onboard ship. As you mentioned earlier, besides the prototypes, that was the entire world’s supply. So more can be created, but leaving such a powerful energy source unaccounted for is frightening.”

“Agreed; all the more reason for *Superman* to be looking for the most likely criminals, not you and me.”

Lois took another sip of tea, allowing the gentle herbal ‘notes’ to tease her taste buds. Her throat felt much better she began. “I’m not so sure about that. Anyhow, let me tell you about Aykira Milan. Much as it pains me to admit it, Cat’s right about her talents as Lex’s assistant. She has a wide range of interests, which doesn’t hurt when it comes to working with a bunch of technicians, physicists and businessmen.

“How do you know about these interests, did she tell you?” Clark asked.

“No such luck! Her office bookshelf has a wide variety of publications; physics, accounting, finance, math theory and travel. I did not just sit around waiting. I thumbed through a few; each one had her handwritten notes over the pages.” Lois grinned happily, warming to the subject.

“Wow! Talk about research.” She laid everything out there for you.”

“Jimmy needs to run a deep background check on her education and whatever else he can dig up. I could not trip her up on any questions regarding the manufacture of the microprocessors. She defended Lex’s decision to have her handle the media and his absence at this morning’s news conference. She even messengered over a copy of the contracts between LexCorp and their main manufacturers of microprocessors.”

“Seems to me, Lois, you have run into a brick wall. Could it be Ms. Milan has nothing to hide?”

She hesitated to answer, because another sneeze was coming on. “Achoo!” She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. “Urgh! I need more cold medicine. Yeah well, she might not have anything to hide, yet she was definitely surprised when I mentioned solar panels for Station Space Lex *and* she nearly fell out of her chair when the Harmonic Crystals came up. I don’t understand it. Clark, it seemed like she was angry to hear about it from me, but also relieved. My journalistic instincts are screaming there’s a story here…a big one.” Looking suddenly uncomfortable, Lois continued. “Plus there’s something else about Aykira.”

“Oh, what’s that?” Clark cocked his eyebrow curiously.

“It’s the oddest thing, but I feel we have met before and were friends…good friends. Yet for the life of me where we met does not come to mind.” Lois lapsed into a contemplative silence.

***

Clark looked at her gently, she was fighting sleep and a cold, but she was still determined to get the story. With such resolve, no wonder she had gotten three Kerth awards at a young age. However, right now what she needed was rest, otherwise that cold was only going to get worse.

Nevertheless, she still steadfastly ignored his comments about breaking and entering, taking risks of all sorts. It was beginning to worry and annoy him at the same time.

***

Breaking into his thoughts, Lois started speaking again. “There’s only one way to get to the bottom of this whole thing. I need to make an ‘unauthorized entry’ into LexSolar’s manufacturing and shipping files...on site.”

“What!” Her partner shouted. “A break-in? Lois, that’s crazy! This is not an old disused warehouse for Bureau 39. This is a high tech state-of-the-art facility, secured to the teeth.”

“Yeah well, if we hadn’t broken into that warehouse, Superman would have never gotten his globe thingamajig back. He’s a friend of mine… ours.” She snapped. “It was *worth* the risk!”

“That’s just the point Lois! You take *too* many risks! By jumping into the deep end of the pool, the consequences could be worse than a bump on the head! Look what happened with Prof. Winninger, his old colleagues nearly killed you!”

Lois’ eyes grew wide and glaring with anger. Despite never having seen Clark this passionately determined before, she refused to back down. “The story means everything, it’s how I get the job done! Somebody has to go in and stop the bad guys. Maybe I can’t fly like Superman, but by writing about corruption and the ones like Aykira Milan who hide important knowledge regarding a major crime…”

“Wait a minute, Lois, show me one shred of evidence against this woman, more than just ‘your reporter’s instincts’?” This said while making angry quotation marks with his fingers. “Without proof, you could be dragging the Planet into a lawsuit!”

His partner’s voice turned cold with fury. “I have *three* Kerths, Mr. Kent. All of them started out with big potential for lawsuits…nothing happened!”

“Yes. I have one Kerth. A good solid story; based on firm research *and* where my life was not constantly endangered while writing it. If you expect to nab a Pulitzer by raking someone - possibly innocent - over the coals, I want no part of it!”

Lois realizing her partner would not capitulate, changed her tactic, and pleaded. “Come on Clark. See it my way.”

“We *always* see it your way. In a partnership there’s supposed to be give and take.” He fired back.

“What? Like in a tight, little marriage? Thanks, farmboy, but I’m *never* adding Kent to my name!”

Hurt and angry Clark stood up answering. “I would never ask you to and at this rate, no one else would be stupid enough to either!”

“Oh yeah? Lois stood up as well from the couch, trying to stand on her toes, looking Clark in the eyes. “Fine! Get out!” She stormed in the kitchen, grabbed his backpack, walked back over to him and tossed it. Clark nimbly caught it while putting on his jacket. “Take this stupid tea with you!”

***

The evening’s previous harmony was shattered. Clark was so despondent after leaving Lois’ apartment building; he walked home rather than fly, his ears still ringing with her words. What was he thinking, yelling at her like that? He was only trying to protect her. Some of the stunts she pulled were downright dangerous. Okay, it was true about the Bureau 39 break-in. Without her unorthodox methods, he would still think of himself as a ‘Russian experiment gone wrong’ and not as the last surviving son of Krypton. Just for once Lois needed to listen to reason. The story is not always the main thing. Human lives were behind the headlines; occasionally she lost sight of that.

His mind continued along the same lines as he put the key into the lock. “Flying home would have been better; since the terrace is right next to my bedroom. I could just fall into bed and pretend this whole argument didn’t happen.” He thought glumly. Suddenly a scratching sound interrupted his sad ruminations. Using infrared vision, he scanned the living room. “Show yourself! He barked, surprised at the harshness of his tone.

“Me..Meow?” A tiny frightened sound reached Clark’s ears and he was suddenly deeply ashamed of himself. Swiftly he turned on the lights. <First, I yell at Lois, then at a defenseless cat. Who is going to be my next victim? A crippled little old lady?>

Slowly he walked through the apartment, calling gently. “Pepper. Come here little cat, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Peeking around one of the kitchen chairs the animal stared at him wide-eyed with trepidation. The cat meowed piteously again, hoping his sitter was not upset with him.

Bending down, the reporter rubbed behind the cat’s ears and spoke to him consolingly. “Come on buddy, how about a saucer of milk? Then I need to go on midnight patrol.” He contemplated work at the Daily Planet and dealing with a certain prickly female reporter. “Tomorrow is going to be a very long day.” So saying, the dejected young man picked up his feline charge and walked over to the refrigerator.

***

“How dare he tell me what to do! I’ve been breaking into places since long before he showed up! Achoo!”

As soon as the words escaped her lips, Lois felt deep regret. Fighting with Clark was not how the evening was supposed to go. They were enjoying each other’s company, without a video and pizza. Yes, it was chatting about work, but she would have gotten him to start talking about them, as more than working partners.

Slowly she picked up the debris of the evening; cups, saucers and napkins, and carried them into the kitchen. In a desultory manner, she straightened the living room, turned off the lights and walked into her cool and calming bedroom. Her limbs moved slowly as she prepared for bed. Sleeping tonight was not going to be easy. <Oh great,> she thought sadly while crawling under the welcoming covers. <Tomorrow at the Daily Planet is going to be one very long day.>

Part Five

The next day the Daily Planet newsroom was the center of “The Big Chill” for Lois and Clark.

They arrived separately. A greatly subdued Clark exited the elevator, wearing a charcoal suit, white shirt and plain blue gray tie; sadly, the clothing matched his mood. He walked stiffly down the ramp, spotted Lois’ empty desk, then turned and carelessly sat down at his own. Firing up the computer, he began to work on his latest story.

Ten minutes later, an oddly restrained Lois walked down the ramp, almost in the manner of a woman who did not want attention drawn to herself. After quietly hanging up her pumpkin colored jacket on the coat hook by her desk, she sat down, started her computer, and settled into work. She sent off a number of e-mails, the longest one, to Jimmy, detailing her research requirements.

Jack was the first one to notice it. Lois and Clark were hard at work on their respective stories. So hard at work, they barely spoke or looked at each other. When one did glance in the other’s direction, it was quick and furtive. In the past, Jack’s ability to read people had spared him much physical harm and emotional pain. What he was reading now between the two investigative reporters was sadness, disappointment and not a little hurt.

He went over to Clark first - the older man was something of a father figure/big brother, so it was easier to talk with him.

“Hey Clark, want some coffee?”

“Huh?” Clark glanced over his glasses at the boy; cast his eyes guardedly over to Lois, than back to him. “Oh, not right now. Thanks, Jack.”

Turning to Lois, Jack queried, “Lois? How ‘bout a low fat mocha? Since Jimmy’s busy, I’m doing the Chief’s mid-morning coffee run to the Java Perk.”

He got the exact same reaction. Lois looked at Clark rather sheepishly before answering. “Sorry, Jack, have to get this story done.” Lois muttered in an undertone, she opened her mouth to say more, thought better of it and continued looking - more like idly gazing - at her monitor.

Jack looked closely from one reporter to another. He was smart enough to know hanging around was *not* the thing to do. With a nod to them both, he trotted up the ramp.

Slowly, like an anchor dragging in rich, black mud, the morning dragged painfully on.

***

For the remainder of the morning, different staffers walked by the two reporters and sensed a definite coolness in the air. There was no easy banter, note passing or exchange of information. Clark kept his eyes on the monitor of his computer, studiously avoiding looking toward his partner. Meanwhile, Lois refrained from chewing on a fresh No. 2 pencil… a sure sign of frustration. Cat watched the tableau play out with a strange mixture of curiosity and annoyance. Even Ralph got the message and stayed far away.

Lois and Clark existed on a tiny island surrounded by an ocean of desks.

***

Close to noon, the Weekend Section reporter, Diane Pallister, convinced Lois to join her for lunch at a new Italian restaurant whose specialty was hot grilled vegetable sandwiches. Lois, eager to get away from the stifling confines of the bullpen, agreed and the two young women strolled up the ramp and grabbed the elevator.

With a bleak sigh of relief, Clark slumped forward; his body actually ‘hurt’ from the prolonged tense fallout of last night’s argument with his beautiful partner. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the senior editor emerge from his office. With a softer version of his normally booming southern drawl, Perry White beckoned the investigative reporter.

Clark followed the older man as he walked back to his office. Dreading what Perry would ask, Clark decided to only stick his head into his office and asked. “You wanted to see me, Chief?”

“Uh huh,” The Senior Editor said with a nod. “No Elvis stories this time, son. Come on in. Close the door. Have a seat.” He gestured towards the big leather chair. “What’s going on between you and Lois? Had a fight?”

Clark slumped in the chair. The chief had them… him… dead to rights. He did not want to explain about his complex relationship with Lois, especially since he was still trying to define it himself. But what alternative did he have? This was the man who ‘knew what he was not supposed to know’ about the computer genius Eugene Leland hiding out in Lois’ apartment. Clark remembered the entire adventure and the part played by the inquisitive female, Detective Reed, she of the bad hair, make-up and attitude. If it had not been for Perry’s interference, the woman would have dumped both of them in jail for harboring a fugitive.

Sighing gently and nervously running his fingers through thick black hair, Clark began, “We have hit a rough spot regarding the Shackleton investigation.”

The older man looked at Clark for a moment before replying. “Rough spot? From the looks of things in the newsroom this morning you two just emerged from an avalanche! Well now, son, I’ve known Lois a long time and she gets… well ‘passionate’ about a story.”

“More like obsessive.” Clark mumbled.

“I’ll let that one go,” the editor responded tersely. “Lois has had to work *twice* as hard as either of us to prove her worth in this male-dominated business. Bet that intuition thing of hers is in full gear and she’s bound and determined to see this thing through until the well runs dry.”

“Chief, it’s not her passion I object to; it’s her methods… sometimes.” He decided it was best not to mention Lois’ intentions of breaking into LexSolar. He didn’t want to add ‘snitch’ to her grievances against him.

The senior editor fixed a hard stare at the young reporter, but spoke in the quiet paternal manner of tempered experience. “Kent, you two are investigative journalist - partners. Trust Lois’ instincts to land a great story, but don’t let her do anything dangerous… or illegal.”

This time sighing inwardly, Clark answered, “Right, Chief.”

Walking back to his desk, he reflected, thankfully there were only five more ‘official’ hours to the workday. At that moment, Jimmy raced breathlessly up to him wearing his photographer’s khaki vest and camera bag slung over his shoulder. Apparently, a huge fire had started on the docks of Metropolis Harbor. Clark thanked the stars above for an excuse to get out of the office.

“Jimmy, I’ll tell the chief where we are going. You catch a cab to the harbor. I’ll meet you there.”

“Hey, CK, where’s Lois?” The cub reporter asked.

“Still eating lunch with Diane,” Clark said, trying hard, but failing to hide his sullenness. “We don’t need to bring her in on this one. Please, Jimmy, head downstairs for that cab.”

Taken aback by his friend’s gruffness, Jimmy responded. “I just thought she might want to come with us. This is going to make great front page headlines!”

Clark realized he had made a mistake, but was still too agitated to apologize. He returned to Perry’s office and informed him of their plans. Grateful to see Jimmy gone, he rushed up the staircase to the roof and changed into Superman.

The fire at Metropolis Harbor was indeed a large one; the voracious flames quickly consumed many of the old abandoned wooden piers. Thick, black, greasy smelling smoke plumes rose towering malevolently above the harbor. As Clark flew over the area, his mind was still thinking about how much better it was to cover a story like this with his partner.

His mind snapped back to reality upon seeing a squad of fire fighters entering a smoldering decrepit warehouse. The Man of Steel’s unique abilities were desperately needed; not a mild-mannered reporter concerned over his relationship with a woman that he wanted to be so much more than a work partner.

Two hours later, the worst of the conflagration was over. Superman spent time talking with police, fire officials and insurance investigators. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jimmy snapping away furiously. Once ascertaining the local fire department and police had the situation under control, he excused himself, flew into the early afternoon sky, quickly disappearing from sight.

Moments later, Clark walked over to Jimmy and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. “Got enough shots to make the front page sing, Jim?”

“Hey, CK!” The cub reporter looked up in surprise. “When did you get here? I didn’t see you this entire time and thought traffic held you up.”

“No. I’ve been here for awhile talking with some officials and starting to write the story up here.” He tapped his forehead. “Let me call the article in and we can catch a cab back to the Planet.”

Ten minutes later the two men were sitting in a cab heading uptown. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, but Clark knew there was something on the photographer’s mind. He listened carefully when Jimmy cleared his throat and began to speak. “Uh, CK? What’s going on between you and Lois? Not that I want to pry or anything.”

Sighing gently, Clark thought to himself. <I seem to be doing a lot of explaining about my ‘distance’ from Lois.> He turned and spoke to Jimmy his voice calm and even. “We are having a difference in opinion. It’ll be okay.”

Jimmy fingered his camera case nervously for a moment and said, “CK, Lois is kind of like my older sister; she gets on my nerves, but she’s really just looking out for my best interests, you know? Her instincts, not just as a reporter, are pretty good.”

Clark nodded in silent agreement, lost in his thoughts. The cab drove through the hectic Metropolis streets for several minutes until it pulled up in front of the Daily Planet building. Finally he spoke. “The chief will be ecstatic over these great pictures and a story. This will make his day.”

Jimmy agreed, and the two men got out of the taxi and entered the Daily Planet building. Upstairs in the newsroom, Clark heard a familiar heartbeat pounding in anticipation. He knew what to expect, but he hated getting into an argument with her in front of the bullpen staff.

All too soon, the elevators doors slid open, he and Jimmy stepped out and he saw an irritated Lois. She stormed up the ramp meeting them halfway. “I can’t believe *neither* of you tried to contact me! Diane and I were only a block away! Kent, is this your idea of a joke?”

Out the corner of his eye, Clark watched Jimmy ease back up the ramp and move swiftly towards the darkroom. He did not blame the cub reporter for beating a hasty retreat. Lois was in full ‘Mad Dog’ mode.

Holding up his hands in genuine capitulation, Clark apologized profusely to his partner then continued down the ramp. He was keenly aware that the curious eyes of the entire newsroom staff were riveted upon them. The incongruous thought that Lois was beautiful when angry popped into his mind. Indeed, she *was* striking. She wore an electric blue silk pantsuit; the long white paisley scarf wrapped around her lovely throat was an excellent final touch. If he didn’t put an end to this ‘conversation’ soon, it would just slide into a rematch of last night’s dispute.

His partner, not to be outdone followed him to his desk and was about to start in again when he faced her and said in a tired voice, “Lois, it’s been a long day, covering that fire took a lot out of me. I’m going to write up the article, then head for home.”

He watched her brown eyes first smolder then cool into icy indifference. “Fine!” Lois growled. She stalked over to her desk, sat down, opened her candy jar and grabbed a handful of M&M’s. Seeing that gesture, Clark knew it was *not* fine and the disagreement between them was far from settled.

***

Lois snuck a look over her monitor at Clark, as she crunched the candy. Angry thoughts came to mind. <He deliberately didn’t page me! I missed writing the Metropolis Harbor fire story. Since when did he and Jimmy go on stories *without* me?>

The story she was working on this morning, although not as good, was about another possible scandal in the mayor’s office. There was a question about the handling of certain campaign funds. If she finished researching a few points, it might make Perry’s deadline for the evening edition.

Could it be that only two nights before she had wistfully thought he was the perfect working partner? <If I got involved with him, it would have been *another* federal disaster. I’m better off living my life alone.> Sighing softly she dove into her work. The Daily Planet’s newsroom noise and activity seemed to blanket the tension existing between the two reporters, swathing over unspoken words between them.

***

Later that evening, an emotionally drained Clark flew to Smallville. It was here at his parents’ farm he could seek solace, a listening ear and comfort for his heart. The elder Kents had just started eating when their son arrived. Clark inhaled the delicious aroma of pot roast, string beans and rosemary new potatoes and felt his waning appetite happily return. His mother’s cooking was just what he needed.

Wearing a comfortable old plaid flannel shirt and faded jeans, Clark entered the aged farmhouse and greeted his parents warmly.

After eating dinner, Clark began explaining to his parents about the past few days, culminating with the argument in Lois’ apartment.

“Lois is so stubborn! Breaking and entering into a corporate facility is not going to solve this freighter theft. She’s convinced a highly placed administrative assistant within LexCorp is hiding something.”

Martha stood over her son and husband, filling their coffee cups. “Oh honey, I don’t think Lois would do anything foolish. Does she have any proof?”

“That’s just it Mom, she doesn’t. To make matters worse, we aren’t speaking to each other and its making life in the newsroom… unpleasant.”

“Son, it sounds to me like you two need to stop fighting and start talking.” Jonathan said.

Martha interjected, “It’s what two people do when their lives get closer. Communication, not fighting, is the key word here.” Clark watched while Martha sliced a generous wedge of apple cake and placed it before him.

“Closer? Like as in a couple? Mom, right now we can’t stand to be in the same room with each other.”

Martha Kent’s blue eyes were sparkling. “But eventually, when this problem is worked through, isn’t that what you want with Lois - to become a couple?”

Bowing his head, he muttered, “Yes. However, all I want is for her to be safe. Breaking the law won’t keep her out of harm’s way.”

“Then tell her how you feel, son,” Jonathan said. “But remember, it’s her life; ultimately she has to make the decision to listen when suggestions are offered. In the meantime, if you both want to continue a proper ‘working’ relationship at the Daily Planet some apologizing from both sides is in order.”

***

Back at the Planet, Lois sat at her desk eating the leftovers of her Asian salad, the day shift having long since abandoned the newsroom. In the background, members of the night shift typing away on their various keyboards reached her ears. She picked at the vegetable remnants, thinking of the strong masculine hands that made it. She thought, <Why do we always end up disagreeing with each other? Last night’s argument came from out of nowhere.>

After mulling that over she continued in thought, <No, that was not exactly true. This lingering head cold was wearing me down and Clark was not very happy about me ‘acquiring’ the Shackleton’s manifest from the Harbor Master’s office. After all, I was supposed to be going to the bathroom, not stealing an official shipping document. It was a stupid, impulsive move to make. Probably informing him of my intention to break into LexSolar and ‘acquire’ again just brought it all to a head. *Not smart*.>

Trust Perry to partner her with the world’s oldest Boy Scout!

“Working late again, Lois?” A familiar voice said from above.

Looking up from the salad, she watched as Cat Grant slinked down the ramp as only she could. The tall gossip columnist was dressed in a red silken sheath of sinuous fabric that gracefully fell over her body, exposing an athletic figure.

Rolling her eyes, Lois answered in an annoyed tone, “I’m a *working* reporter. One who deals in real news… not dirt digging. Maybe you ought to try it sometime. Whose society get-together are you crashing now?”

Lois’ watched as the gossip columnist gave a derisive snort and came over to her desk. Cat’s green eyes flashed; ready to make a snide comment, she stopped, reflected for a moment, than spoke. “Not that it makes a difference, but I have an important date with my boyfriend, Dr. George Amundsen.”

“Oh yeah, the ‘wild man’ scientist. We bumped into each other yesterday at LexCorp. He seemed in a hurry for an appointment with Aykira Milan. I’ll say this much, you were right; she is a highly capable administrator. Hopefully, George is up to the challenge of dealing with her.”

Cat arched an expertly tweezed eyebrow and retorted. “Don’t be taken in by his fluster; when it’s important enough, he can stand toe to toe with the best of them, even Lex Luthor’s minions.”

Lois sat back in her chair and gave the other woman a solid appraisal. The flashy gossip columnist had lost her heart to this man. If she wasn’t so sincere it would be downright amusing. In a peculiar way, Lois was genuinely happy for her.

“So someone finally managed to tame the Catwoman. I *am* impressed. What’s next, planning on settling down and having a bunch of kittens?”

Cat stood in front of Lois’s desk, put her hands on slender hips and said, “Okay Lane, the regular crew has gone home for the day; we can quit sparring.”

“Oh please, what are you talking about?” Lois snapped back.

“There are some things more important than work, like having a life *outside* of the job.” Catherine Grant paused for a moment, as if trying to make up her mind about something. Decision made, she walked over to her desk, pulled a chair over to Lois, and gracefully settled down. “Worse things; such as being the punch line to jokes about women, who work too hard and risk the danger of becoming an old maid. Someone like yourself, *Miss* Lane.” Cat stated, pointing a perfectly manicured red fingernail.

“Or fashion plates like me, who after ‘socializing all day,’ have nothing but an empty apartment waiting for them at night. Lois, the world is full of available males but precious few *men*. I found one who truly cares for and respects me; not the façade of the *sexy* columnist, but me.”

Fairly bristling upon hearing the words ‘old maid’ Lois was about to reply when Cat held up her perfectly manicured hands and continued. “Years ago I met a guy I was stupid enough to fall in love with and marry. He turned out to be a world-class jerk. Fortunately, the marriage and divorce was in Nevada easy in and easy out. I won’t bore you with the details of picking up my life and building the new me, but let’s just say from then on men were fixtures I changed as often as my sheets.”

Lois muttered to herself, “Why does that not surprise me?”

Ignoring the sarcastic remark, Cat went on. “So for years, involvement in meaningless relationships and writing ‘fluff’ pieces suited me just fine. Then along came the Nightfall asteroid and life was never the same.” The other woman’s features became haunted and drawn. Everyone I called had someone to share that terrible day with… no one wanted me around. See, meaningless relationships are just that… meaningless.” A respectful silence fell between them, than Cat continued.

“Thankfully, I met George; he has reacquainted me with the better part of myself. Who knows what else we can discover… together?”

“Why are you telling me this? What’s the angle?” Lois shot back.

Her hands lifted in dramatic heavenward gestures, Cat groaned. “The angle is you are *wasting* time! Sure, right now you have an Adonis in a cape! Terrific! Still, what kind of a *life* can you have together? He’s great at stopping bullets, but how about taking out the garbage?” Lois watched her shrug her elegant bare shoulders and then pointed to Clark’s desk. “He’s a real man… tight end and all. Do *not* treat him like he’s Claude. He doesn’t deserve that. Whatever has come between you two, I’m betting it’s your fault. Lois, you can’t *always* be right. We are both highly competitive women in a man’s world, but when it comes to what honestly happens between a man and woman… well, that’s different. If you ever want to talk, I’m here to listen.”

Lois watched in stunned, embarrassed silence as Cat got up, replaced the chair under her desk, removed a long black and red silk wrap from her bottom desk drawer and then walked back over to Lois and concluded, “Remember those old maid jokes.”

With a smile touched by a hint of sadness, Catherine Grant exited the newsroom.

***

“This has been a *great* day,” Lois growled to herself after entering the apartment on Carter Avenue later that evening. “First, Clark and I are not speaking to each other, than he and Jimmy cut me out of the Metropolis Harbor fire story, finally Cat tries to give me advice about taking Clark seriously. Clark. Clark. Clark! Urgh! All I need now is a call from my mother and the day will be complete!”

As if on cue, the phone rang, interrupting Lois mid-babble. Rolling her eyes in frustration, she picked up the phone, expecting to hear Ellen Lane’s voice. But was greatly surprised when she heard, “Hey, big sis; how’s life in Metropolis?”

Despite her earlier mood, she could not help but smile at the sound of Lucy’s upbeat voice. It was Thursday night and she usually called her sister once a week to catch up. Following the Metallo disaster, Lucy Lane had undertaken a deep self-examination of her life and realized she needed to get serious about the future. Shortly thereafter she had moved to Denver, and was going to school for sports medicine, specializing in traumatic athletic injuries. The younger Lane girl had found her niche, which pleased the elder Lanes no end. Sam had finally gotten one of his girls into the medical profession and Lois, although not a medical thriller novelist like Ellen, was still a wordsmith of some ‘small’ repute.

Now, Lucy was settling into her old role of encouraging her workaholic sister to slow down and ‘get a life.’

“Oh, you know; same old, same old. The Daily Planet keeps me busy; lots of investigative stories waiting to be written.”

“Lo-is, that’s not what I mean and you know it. How about going on a real date? Seen any good movies lately? Spent time with people who don’t have ink under their fingernails? There is more to life than watching recordings of The Ivory Tower.”

“Hey, I like my show; it’s a fun release!”

Giggling, Lucy countered with, “Ooh, I’m going to let *that* one go! But seriously, you need a hobby. Uncle Mike’s offer to teach you how to cook is still on the table.”

“No way. It’s not a lack of time, but talent. I wasn’t meant to be in the kitchen.”

“Come on, Lois, it’s been nearly twenty years since the kitchen curtains caught on fire! Give it a rest and try something different. You are the only woman I know who is on a first name basis with every take-out joint in a three block radius of her apartment! Besides, Uncle Mike could use the company. Stop by the restaurant any time; he would love to see you.”

“I smell a set-up here. But you’re right; I don’t spend nearly enough time with him.” Her sister turned the tables. “Have *you* met anyone?

“Hmm - I’ve dated a couple of cute medical guys and had a few laughs. Speaking of cute; how is Jimmy? What about that hunky partner of yours… Clark?”

<That name, that name!> Lois mentally shouted. <Today, I cannot get away from him!>

“Oh Lucy, can we talk about something… someone else?”

For a moment, there was silence on the other end of the line. Lois sat down on the plush striped chair and removed her scarf and shoes while waiting for her sister’s response.

“I knew it! So there *is* something going on! Don’t try to deny it! Evasiveness with me is *never* a good tactic!”

Trapped, Lois decided she needed someone to talk to and since her friend, Molly Flynn was plugging her latest book on back-to-basics nutrition, Lucy was her only option. “Fine. Let me change out of this outfit and I’ll tell you about last night and today… a very long day.”

***

At La Cira, one of Metropolis’ most trendy upscale Italian restaurants, George waited impatiently for Catherine. She was seldom late, but tonight he was anxiously waiting to talk with her. After his conversation with Ms. Milan, he wanted to share the good/bad news.

Adjusting his tie and looking out the restaurant’s floor-to-ceiling front wood-framed windows for the umpteenth time, he contemplated seriously about the job offer. It was the culmination of many years work; to become team lead physicist designing solar panels for Space Station Lex was beyond exciting. However, of late, his ambitions had changed; he wanted to return home to Seattle. Finally he would be closer to family, old friends and complete his manuscript on the history of physics in the 20th century. However, he did not want to return to Seattle alone, he wanted to share his home with Catherine.

Catherine. Who would have thought an egghead like him would ever find someone like her? Oh, initially, he had figured she was some empty-headed gossip columnist covering a charity event. But, he had discovered she was smart - really smart and creative. The woman had denied her considerable talents as a sculptress and art historian. During many a summer afternoon last year while they hiked, Catherine told him about various artisans from the Renaissance period. She showed him some of her hand-chiseled pieces. He talked to her about physics and she grasped his theories. They shared so much in common, like a perfect mathematical equation, an elegant proof.

Now he wanted to take that ‘proof’ for his own.

George looked up and saw Catherine enter the restaurant; she looked ravishing garbed in his favorite red dress. As she moved easily past the snowy white-linen covered tables, a host of male patrons gazed at her in unabashed admiration. He smiled to himself thinking, <Look all you want, gents, but the lady is mine - or at least I hope she will be.>

***

Cat smiled as she kissed him on the cheek. Just being with him made her feel special and cherished. “Hello, Handsome.” She purred.

“Hello yourself, Red.” George couldn’t help but grin; it was his private nickname for the striking auburn-haired beauty. “What a sight to see after a long day.” He indicated the chair. “Make yourself comfortable; I ordered your usual Di Frutti Di Mare - of course, I’m having Penne Al Tricolore.”

A Frank Sinatra recording crooned gently in the background. As they waited for their meals to arrive Cat listened intently while George outlined his conversation with Aykira Milan. The new position of team lead scientist came with an incredible raise, his own staff and most of all he would be involved in LexSolar’s most exciting new project. He also spoke bitterly about his adversary, Dr. Frederick Scott, who was determined to make his current work miserable through meddlesome interoffice politics.

“Dr. Scott is interested in your old position; that much is certain. Have you mentioned this offer to him or anyone at LexSolar? But more importantly; are you willing to work with him until this project is completed?”

His face turned quiet. “That’s just the point; the project will take another year from initial planning to the Space Station’s launch; far too long for him to be a pebble in my shoe. Although the offer acknowledges my years of loyal contributions to LexSolar, my mind is almost made up to leave the company and Metropolis for home in Seattle.”

Momentarily; an expectant silence passed between them. Before either could speak, the waiter arrived and swiftly placed their dinner plates before them. He laid out a separate saucer for Cat’s light vinaigrette salad dressing, than vanished without a word. George was speaking, but Cat missed a few words.

“…it wouldn’t be home without you to share my life with, Catherine. Er... is it too much to hope?”

“Excuse me?” she asked

George examined Catherine’s expression; before the waiter arrived, it was a blank, sad visage as if reflecting on loss. Then suddenly it turned into a landscape of confusion.

“I said, will you give up your life here in New Troy and join me in Seattle?”

Her entire body sagged in disappointment, “Uh, no. I’m not *living or co-habituating* with anyone.”

***

“Live with?” George felt a little hurt, then realizing how his words sounded responded, by taking her hands and staring deep within her sea green eyes. “Catherine! Th… there are a number of new ideas I accept wholeheartedly, but when it comes to spending the rest of my life with you, I am old–fashioned. We are *not* living together.” So saying, he reached into his beast pocket and tried to pull out a grey velvet box. His hands trembled so badly, the box got stuck. He looked down at it and with one mighty tug the box went sailing over the votive candleholder and landed squarely into Catherine’s chilled asparagus salad.

Nearby, restaurant patrons and staff heard the noise and turned around, looking. The couple at the next table curiously craned their necks, saw the box, and smiled encouragement. George, his face scarlet, took the box gingerly from Catherine’s salad, and opened it to reveal a one- carat pear-shaped diamond ring with emerald baguettes. Pushing back his chair he stepped to her side of the table and in one fluid movement was on bended knee, his voice quavering with emotion, he spoke. “Hi…historically the emerald is said to bestow its wearer with unchanging l... love and faithfulness. I…I want our love to last a lifetime. Catherine Grant w...will you marry me?”

For once in Cat’s life, she was completely dumbfounded. She looked intently into the earnest man’s face, his blue eyes pleading for a positive answer. All at once, her life and his felt perfect… whole. In a voice completely void of purr, she answered. “Yes George. Yes. I will marry you.”

The patrons, waiters and maitre de, all of whom had watched in eager anticipation, broke out in hearty cheers and applause. George gazed at Catherine, seeing tears of love spill down her cheeks as he slipped the ring onto the third finger of her left hand.

***

Part Six

The next day at the Planet started out quietly enough. Lois and Clark again arrived separately and went about their early morning routines without acknowledgement of the other’s existence. They made a great effort to ignore each other and yet appear as if nothing was amiss. Despite sincere conversations with family who dearly loved and supported them, they were both too stubborn to bend.

The rest of the newsroom staff awkwardly circumvented them, afraid to approach either one, fearing the other might construe it as ‘taking sides’. Even Jimmy stayed in his area of the bullpen or hid in the darkroom. Everyone in the bullpen realized neither he nor Clark paged Lois about the Metropolis Harbor story and she was definitely not happy with either of them.

It was becoming a touchy situation for everyone. Well, everyone except Jack; he freely talked with the estranged duo – busying himself by assisting with research requests, getting copy, and whatever else they needed without stepping into either combatant’s ‘war’ zone.

***

From the confines of his office, Perry White watched the whole farce. “Judas Priest!” He muttered aloud. “Those two are headed the way of Billy Norcross and Serena Judd. Back then ol’ man Krebs was Senior Editor and ran a tight ship. Krebs wasn’t afraid of anything - except stickin’ his nose into romantic entanglements on the job. Blast it, he kept quiet back when they had their problems and look were *they* ended up” Perry shook his head mentally erasing unpleasant memories. <No sirree. Not this time. Not on his watch. These two are *special*; Lois is like a daughter and Kent - another son.>

He eased out of the comfortable wooden chair, walked across his office, opened the door and was about to call Lois and Clark in for a conference, when a tornado in the form of Cat Grant burst out of the elevator.

“Attention and greetings civilians! Meet the future Mrs. George Amundsen!” Cat’s face effused with pleasure, as she walked - not slinked - down the ramp and held out her left hand for the entire newsroom to see.

Perry came out of his office and watched with mixed emotions as ‘the cat’ eased over to her desk and smiled gleefully. “Great Shades of Elvis! What has that woman done now?” He muttered aloud.

***

A passing Steve and Eduardo watched as several female reporters rushed over to Cat’s desk, eyeing her ring and emitting squeals of sheer delight.

“Cat Grant engaged?” Steve shook his head in bemusement.

“It’s about time,” Eduardo countered. He had known about Cat’s relationship with the gentle scientist for months and had watched her personality slowly transform for the better. “George is good for her.”

Jimmy Olsen, hearing all the commotion, came running out of the darkroom. “What happened?” he asked Diane, who was sipping the last of her morning coffee. Tilting her head in Cat’s direction, she responded with a half smile. “Ms. Grant is engaged and she’s letting the whole world know it.”

“You don’t say?” Jimmy said easing his way down the ramp, narrowly avoiding a collision with the USP delivery man.

“So, cousin Cat. What’s up?”

“Oh, look at my little ‘cousin’ trying to get the scoop.” A genuine smile of happiness spread across her face as she playfully pinched his cheek. “Take a look at this.” She extended her freshly manicured hand, displaying the sparkling diamond and emerald ring.

A broad smile equal to hers made its way across his face. “Smooth,” was the young man’s sincere reply.

***

Perry watched the newsroom atmosphere shift from hushed morgue to jubilant party with Cat’s flamboyant entrance, swiftly turning the spotlight from Lois and Clark onto her. He thought while chuckling, <Say whatever else you want about Catherine Grant, but the lady has *style*.>

Perry noted the only two people unaffected by the tumult surrounding the gossip columnist. Lois and Clark sat like two ancient Chinese terra cotta soldiers, working hard on their individual stories in a futile attempt to ignore each other no matter what happened. The editor knew this time was the best to sit down and discuss whatever was bothering them… their pride be hanged.

Walking over to their desks, the brief nod of Perry’s head indicated he wanted to see them both in his office. The older man turned and walked back to his sanctum and stopped at the door. He watched as the twosome walked grimly toward him, reminding him of a couple of grade school kids’ halfhearted approach to the principal’s office.

***

After shutting the door, effectively cutting out all newsroom noise, Perry asked without preamble, “So what’s this ‘silent’ routine all about? Is there something you two aren’t telling me?” He observed them closely. Clark sat on Perry’s old red plaid couch, nervously fiddling with his tie. Lois perched uncomfortably in the leather visitor’s chair; an uncertain pout marred her pretty face. <Look at them,> he thought, <they’re acting like a newlywed couple after their first fight.>

Neither one spoke up; Lois looked off into the distance, fighting to keep a sneeze under control. Clark suddenly found solace in the ancient carpet’s faded pattern. Perry, aggravated with the prolonged silence, began talking.

”Listen, you two are the best investigative reporters hands down I’ve ever seen in this game. The byline of Lane and Kent has taken the Planet’s circulation through the roof. So giving each other the cold shoulder ain’t going to work. Hell, everybody in the newsroom smells blood! So whatever it is that’s happening between you two needs to stay *outside* the bullpen. Go on, git to the Java Perk, sit down, and iron this mess out.”

“Perry! I have the Stone and Mercantile story to finish.” Lois said, again trying to suppress a sniffle.

“Chief, my ‘Rhapsody Knits’ article for the weekend edition is almost done. The human-interest angle should have a great impact on our readers. Lois’ Uncle Mike is looking forward to reading about it this weekend.”

Lois turned away from Perry and for the first time in days stared directly at her partner. “Hey, two days ago you said it *was* finished? What happened! I want to read what you’ve got. Grace is such a caring person; her story needs the right touch.”

“Oh, so *now* you’re speaking to me? Before, you didn’t want to write anything ‘touchy feely’ not even for Uncle Mike. Remember two days ago you tore into the bullpen and pulled me from my desk to work on this Shackleton hijacking! Then we got that call from the Mayor’s office…”

Perry watched with interest as Lois warmed to the battle, forged ahead. “That’s different! Just because I won’t write it doesn’t mean that I’ll let some hack from nowheresville do a third rate job! Uncle Mike is a close friend of Grace’s; he would be terribly hurt if the story wasn’t the absolute best! She means the world to him. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if one of these days he didn’t ask her out on a date.”

“Just like Lois Lane means a lot to me. I don’t want my partner putting herself in a bad situation,” his voice softened, “especially, if I can’t be there to help her.”

Stunned into silence for the second time in as many days, Lois looked sheepishly at Clark, realizing what he had actually said. “Oh. Clark, I’m sorry about the fight,” her voice suddenly sounded very young and small.

***

Perry smiled at the young people as they stood up, took a hesitant step toward one another, than hugged. Lois finally sneezed and Clark offered her a handkerchief. He was relieved to see them continuing to argue about Clark’s article as they exited his office. The tension between them evaporated; Clark’s hand gently touched the small of Lois’ back.

<Ha!> Perry exclaimed to himself, <Maybe I should take over writing the advice column. Who knows, if I had been around, maybe Elvis and Priscilla would *still* be together.> Chuckling, the editor sat back at his desk, pulled out a red pen and dove into editing Ralph’s City Hall article.

***

Another pair of eyes watched from her vantage point. Despite a number of well-wishers still coming to her desk, Cat observed carefully the scene playing out in Perry’s office. She was relieved to see Lois and Clark resolve their differences, whatever they may be.

“Good for you, Lois. Now make sure you tell him how you feel - once you figure it out for yourself,” she murmured softly; then turned to another well-wisher.

***

The rest of the day in the newsroom was business as usual. Lois and Clark went back and forth over each other’s articles. Perry publicly chastised Ralph for his poorly written City Hall piece.

Steve had to do an emergency re-write about the Metro star, Roy ‘The Shuttle’ Burns. Apparently, the pitcher was leaving the team for a spot on the Denver roster. Diane was stuck covering Lacy’s department’s store yearly flower show. Eduardo was out tracking down leads on a story about the possible renovation of Suicide Slum by LexCorp.

Cat pored over wedding magazines… in between talking to sources for tidbits to be included in ‘Cat’s Corner’.

Later in the day, first Clark, than Lois came over to congratulate Cat on her upcoming marriage.

Jimmy and Jack concentrated on their own duties and responsibilities. Once again, all was right with life in the Daily Planet bullpen.

***

“Ms. Milan, could you come in for a moment?” Lex called from the intercom.

Aykira frowned, than glanced at her watch; it was only 8:15 a.m. She really needed to complete the progress reports on the replacement shipment of microprocessors from Barontech. Computer orders were backing up; they would need to offer incentives to their customers to keep them happy.

<Ah, well, best to see what the situation is, then jump back to work.> she thought then looked hungrily at the sumptuous low-fat peach yogurt she had purchased that morning. <Knowing his penchant for long meetings, this yogurt will be part of my lunch.>

In preparation for the meeting, Aykira pulled three floppy diskettes containing the latest information on her current projects from a case next to her computer. She placed each one into a secure travel folder and then tucked the travel folder into her organizer. Years ago, she had neglected such painstaking preparation, and it almost cost her life. Aykira blamed the lack of preparation on ‘youthful’ inexperience, but had promised herself never to walk into a meeting without carrying all the necessary tools and in some cases – weapons.

Coming out of her office, Aykira informed Jane where she was going and walked down the corridor to the staircase leading to Luthor’s office suite. As she walked, her mind ran over each project and outstanding articles of business while her stomach gently rumbled. She entered the staircase and swiftly climbed its elegant wooden stairs. Reaching the heavy oak door, she smelled tantalizing aromas of freshly baked biscuits, salmon and roasted coffee. <Luthor is having an early morning meeting… with a full-scale breakfast?> She knocked and heard his voice call out, “Enter, Ms. Milan.”

The administrative assistant opened the door and stood stunned and yet pleasantly surprised by the welcome sight of a white linen-covered table, generously spread with a sumptuous breakfast for two. Nearby, the stolid figure of Chef Andre stood at the ready, preparing a white spinach omelet.

“Ah, come in, Ms. Milan, a hearty good morning to you!” The words rang out, accompanied by Lex’s - Mr. Luthor’s - expressive hand gestures and unrestrained smile.

“What is all of this?” she asked, deciding not to hide the surprise in her voice.

His smile reached dancing obsidian eyes; Lex approached and beckoned her into the office suite. “I should think that was obvious my dear, breakfast is served. Would you like orange juice or a mimosa?”

***

A pleasant, delicious time later, the two settled down on the comfortable settee, lingering over their final cups of coffee. Aykira did not quite believe Luthor’s reason for the occasion. He wanted to ‘celebrate’ her two and a half years of employment with him. They had spent time in easy conversation about the latest Italian art exhibit at the Greystroke Museum. Aykira found herself enjoying – even relaxing - in the man’s company. Oh, she knew the billionaire could be charming, even courtly, but she understood the charm was all part of a calculated act for businesspersons and the public at large. Glimpses of Lex Luthor’s true nature were few and far between; this, she suspected, was one of those rare times.

“Thank you again for such an unexpected surprise. But tell me, why not wait until it’s a full three years?”

“What, and be predictable? Perish the thought!” he teased.

Aykira, warming to their banter, countered by saying, “Mr. Luthor, if there is one thing you are *not* it is predictable!”

She watched his lips curl into a very attractive smile. “From you, I take that as the highest compliment. In the spirit of exchanging compliments, please accept this small token of my appreciation.” So saying, he walked to the desk and picked up a slender box covered with silver paper and violet ribbon. He returned to the settee and gently placed it in her hands.

“Please, open it.” Lex’s eyes fairly danced with excitement.

Thoroughly puzzled, Aykira stared for a moment at the beautifully wrapped box. Her heart beat rapidly inside her ribcage. <Earthsea. What is this?> she thought. Hands trembling, she delicately removed the ribbon, pulled apart the silver wrapping paper, and opened the box. Inside, a glorious steel and gold Rolex woman’s watch gleamed up at her.

“It… it’s amazing,” she breathed. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

The billionaire removed the watch from its confinement. As he removed her old watch with a crocodile embossed leather wristband and slipped its well-dressed replacement around her wrist. He said, “‘Thank you, Lex’ would be sufficient.” Again, he smiled at her.

Her mind contemplated rapidly, logically, despite any outward discomposure she displayed. <What is he doing? Part of me wants to ‘let whatever happen, happen’.> But to Luthor she said, “A Rolex watch is too much. I cannot accept this… even as an anniversary present. It’s too much…” she repeated.

Luthor’s lips spread into that ‘killer smile.’ “Then, my dear Aykira, let us not play games. In the past few days, you have consistently proven your worth as my assistant and media liaison during this damnable ship hijacking business. Any other executive who did just as good a job might receive stock options or a bonus. A cold ‘business’ token of esteem. Hopefully, in the years to come, this present will encourage warm memories of our - relationship.” Luthor watched her carefully and for a few tense moments, neither spoke.

Aykira tilted her head at an angle smiled and said, “Lex. Thank you for the watch. It is lovely."

He blinked, surprised. “You called me Lex.”

She leaned over and placed her hand on his knee, “No one is here.”

They both laughed, dispelling any nervous tension between them.

“Since we are now on a first name basis, Lex, please let me return the favor of ‘gifts.’ Why not accompany me to the Greystroke Museum on Saturday and see the new Italian drawings exhibit? The Daily Planet Weekend section states it is quite breathtaking.”

“Aykira, I think that would be delightful.” Lex responded, genuinely pleased.

“Excellent. Shall we meet at the museum on Saturday around say… 2:00?”

“Wonderful; let me check my calendar to see if I’m free.”

“You are. I run your business *and* personal calendar… remember?”

Speechless, all Luthor could do was nod his head.

“Good.” Aykira stood up and straightened her long, burgundy knit dress. “Now, as much as I have thoroughly enjoyed this delightfully grand breakfast, I must get back to work. My employer is a demanding man.” She stood, gathered her organizer and walked toward the door. Whirling on her toes, she glanced back, mischief dancing in her hazel eyes. “Oh, and one other thing, Lex.”

“Yes?”

This is time spent between two *friends*. Please meet me on the steps of the Greystroke Museum without a limousine and… wear a pair of jeans.”

“As you wish,” he said, flourishing a bow.

“I do.” With a brilliant smile, she departed the office suite.

***

Lex sat down and leaned back on the cushions of the settee, smiling triumphantly, “She is woman, to be wooed and therefore to be won!”

***

Saturday, on the stairs of the Greystroke Museum, a nervous Aykira sat anxiously waiting for the arrival of Lex Luthor.

<This is an insane idea, but fighting my feelings has been a wearisome and lonely battle. As soon as the crystals are located, my assignment here is over and done with. What harm can come of spending time with a man I shall never see again?>

Aykira’s musings went no further, from her vantage point on the wide marble staircase leading up to the museum’s main building, she could see a familiar figure walking down Tenth Avenue. She gazed at the tall man with a head full of wavy black hair. He was handsome, debonair, and thoroughly dangerous wearing a black leather jacket, black turtleneck… and blue jeans… Lex Luthor had arrived.

***

His eyes searched the busy Saturday afternoon throng, looking for the one face he wanted to see. Springtime on Museum Mile always meant crowds on the weekends, especially after a particularly long and brutally cold winter. Metropolis residents now craved equal parts sunshine and a bit of culture. Lex had decided to have his limousine driver drop him off a couple of blocks from the Greystroke. He was prepared to change his habits a little in his pursuit of Ms. Milan, but riding the Metro was pushing it. Maybe she did not want to use the limo while they were together, but he was not about to mingle with the common man underground or hail a cab.

Waiting on the sweeping, granite staircase of the Greystroke Museum stood Aykira, wearing a wraparound white cashmere sweater and crisp blue jeans. She had swept her luscious black hair into a sweet, long ponytail and adorning her ears was a pair of sterling silver elongated hoop earrings. Of course on the index finger of her right hand was the ubiquitous silver etched ring. Lex had seen many a beautiful woman, but she was special, different. Mounting the steps and drawing nearer, he breathed in her floral perfume and its scent filled him with delight. The only thing marring the day was *another* of his cursed headaches.

***

Aykira spoke first as they approached each other, “Lex, you should wear jeans more often; they suit you.”

“They are worn only for you, Aykira. Come along, I’m eager to see this exhibit.”

They entered the massive building, stood in line in the entry lobby for their membership tickets to the exhibit, ‘An Italian Journey: Drawings from the Siegel Collection, da Vinci to Tiepolo’. After a brief walk to the exhibit gallery, Aykira and Lex stepped into another world, an age gone by.

Striking in its range, the subject matter included figure studies, historical and mythological narratives, landscapes, botanical drawings, motifs copied from or inspired by classical antiquity, and designs for painted compositions.

The seventy drawings were so powerful and sensual in their expression; the couple so taken by their sheer beauty, words, mere words need not be exchanged. Shyly, almost like an innocent young schoolgirl, Aykira allowed him to gently take her hand. Yet another tenuous step toward a deeper relationship; one which progressed beyond its previously set boundaries.

Lex uncharacteristically did not try to control their progress through the exhibit. He gave way to taking pleasure in his time with a woman whose intelligence and wit matched his own. In short, the billionaire was certain he had finally found a suitable mate.

After the museum, Aykira and Lex strolled easily and aimlessly through Centennial Park comfortably taking in the late afternoon. They sat near the fountain and ‘people watched’ as numerous young couples held hands, parents walked with their children and one old couple wearing antique clothing sat quietly on a bench sustained by their deep and abiding love for one another.

As the day drew to a close, Lex suggested a light supper at Bouley, an intimate French bistro, not far from her apartment building. They dined on chilled Maine lobster, mango, fresh artichoke, and Serrano ham in a passion fruit, fresh coconut and tamarind dressing. For a final luscious touch, dessert was acai berry and vanilla sorbet in chilled glasses. Neither could remember a time when they were both so content to be in another person’s company.

The evening descended slowly on Metropolis, wrapping the city in a slightly chilly, dark velvet of a spring evening. The couple walked leisurely arm in arm to her high-rise, neither wanting the evening to end. All too soon, they discovered themselves at the front of the Lucerne condominiums.

“Thank you for a day, the likes of which I have not enjoyed for too long a time,” Lex commented with genuine sincerity.

“My feelings exactly, kind sir,” she whispered shyly.

Lex lightly touched her hair, his voice slightly roughened with desire. “I would like to do this again… soon.”

Her hazel eyes looked intently into his dark ones. “Do you not think it rather awkward being seen around town with your assistant?”

“I have no concerns and neither should you. We are colleagues, true, but friends - yet more than friends.” Lex bent down and gently kissed her lips. It started softly, slowly, but a surge of emotion passed between them too strong for denial. Aykira grew bolder, pressed closer, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and indulged in a sensuous full body embrace. His clean masculine fragrance threatened to overwhelm her. She racked eager fingers through his hair, feeling its texture and weight. His tongue teased and played with hers, strong and demanding. A curious heat, only imagined in fevered dreams, surged from the back of her neck to her toes, leaving her breathless and terribly vulnerable.

***

Lex felt the blood rush to his ears, inhaling delicious floral notes of her scent. He was very practiced in the gentle art of seduction; there had been women in his life – all too many women. However, touching Aykira was different, he sensed she was… innocent. That innocence drove him to want her beyond sensual desires. He yearned for something deeper, more binding than a single night’s pleasure.

All too soon, the kiss – with all it entailed - ended. They pulled away from each other, frankly taken aback by its stark intensity.

“Oh….,” she breathed, “Lex, we -- we need to talk. Please… come upstairs, I can make us some espresso.” She searched his features to know if he felt more than mere erotic desire.

His obsidian eyes smoldered and a voice roughened with unconcealed passion spoke. “If I come up there now, I’m staying with you…for breakfast.”

***

Frightened and overwhelmed at the powerful physical thrall Lex held over her. Aykira was at a loss for what to do. Her mind screamed against giving in. If she did, the consequences meant saying good-bye to the man she truly loved. But, she eagerly wanted to feel this man’s powerful yet gentle hands to know her intimately.

Common sense - after a strong adamant mental shake - won this round.

“Lex,” she breathed, “I…I need time. So much has happened today and there is so much more for us to explore about each other… not just physically. Please let us wait for a little while longer. The waiting will only make the time together sweeter.” She took his hand and kissed it tenderly.

He gazed into her beautiful face and lightly touched her cheek with his fingers, loving the contrast of the darkness of her skin against his own pale flesh. His voice when he spoke was roughened by restrained passion. “I am not a patient man when it comes to lovemaking. But for our time together in my bed it will be worth the wait.”

Her mind snapped up, as if an icy bucket of water had dashed over her, the ensnaring thrall cruelly torn asunder. With no small amount of heat in her voice she said, “I am *not* Miranda, Antoinette Baines nor any of your other former playmates. For me, making love is an intimate commitment, not a *business transaction*.” Drawing back from him physically and emotionally she concluded in arctic tones. “Goodnight, Mr. Luthor. If my job is still at LexCorp on Monday morning, I will see you then.” Turning her back, she walked fiercely into the building’s lobby.

***

He was taken aback by the rapid turn of events; one slip of the tongue and his plans lay in utter disarray. This skirmish lost, he could only regroup and try again. He called after her. “Very well, as you wish. Monday it is. Goodnight Aykira… Ms. Milan.” This last sentence he spoke in quiet hushed tones.

***

Scant moments later Aykira was on her bed, head buried in a plush satin-covered sage pillow crying so hard her stomach ached. There was no reason to spend precious time berating herself for the lapse of judgment. <I am very lonely, plain and simple.> she thought. <If Lex had not made that comment about his bed, it is this bed *we* would be occupying now! I only wanted to spend some time with him, pleasant memories to cherish quietly in the future.> Taking deep breaths, she gradually calmed down and let the cool wisdom of logic resume control.

<My actions were foolish. Have I not seen the number of women he’s dated and bedded over the past two and a half years? Earthsea, *I* was the one who made the dinner reservations for half of those women! Many of them beautiful… strikingly so, with the desired social status and business connections Luthor could use to his advantage. What could possibly make me think this man would condescend to having a serious relationship with one woman… me?>

<I must admit to myself that there is more than physical attraction for Lex. My heart is involved. Why else would I risk my mission and chance of discovery to spend some time with him? After all, we cross paths each day at work?> Sighing internally, she thought about that other man. So many years spent apart had dulled her feelings. She held onto those diaphanous emotions as a secure lifeline to her past life, a life that was slowly becoming more unreal with each month she remained here.

<Be honest. On a personal level, if it were not for your biological differences, you could happily remain forever. But my - mission - comes before all else… even my happiness.>

“Those thrice cursed crystals must be located… soon!” She spoke aloud into the air.

Part Seven

It was around noon one late spring day; Lois sat at her desk typing the follow-up piece to Diana Stride’s trial and imprisonment. The former TV magazine journalist had been a free-lance assassin for a mysterious criminal organization. So far, they had failed to stir up any further information about the group, except for the name – Intergang.

Lois shuddered as she remembered Superman’s ordeal with Diana’s deadly kryptonite kiss. To see the superhero lying helpless on a hospital bed had nearly broken her heart. His attending oncologist explained the kryptonite was rapidly weakening his body much like a cancer and needed to be treated as such and exposed to a powerful dose of radiation. By stepping into a nuclear reactor, Superman had to burn the lethal poison from his system.

Thankfully, Superman survived his experience with the deadly radiation and was able to capture Diana Stride and her French cameraman. Nevertheless, the adventure had badly frightened Lois - to see him in such pain; she was grateful to have been by his side and provided some small measure of comfort.

As she sent the completed story to Perry’s computer, her mind turned once more to another ongoing investigation. It had been over two months since the Shackleton freighter hijacking and despite diligent research on the part of Lane and Kent no clues could be discovered as to the crystals whereabouts. No sign of them had appeared at any of Luthor’s Industries, especially LexSolar. Even Bobby Bigmouth; - whose intel had started the entire investigation to begin with, had nothing further to add but promised to keep his eyes open…for a ‘tasty’ fee.

The investigative reporter chafed with annoyance; she wanted to go after the story with undivided attention. She still felt there was more to Aykira Milan’s odd behavior during the latter half of their first interview. Despite a brief follow-up phone interview, which yielded surprisingly little, Lois’ reporter instincts could not shake the notion the media liaison was hiding something. Perry assured her if anything new surfaced, he would allow her to go after the story, ‘like the Colonel after Elvis’ contract’. In the meantime, there were other assignments needing her consideration.

Jimmy’s duties as a fledgling photojournalist were increasing, so much so that many of his research projects for the bullpen staff were backlogged. Some items had been passed over to the research department, but they lacked Jimmy’s speed and accuracy. In self-defense, he started training Jack on that aspect of his job and then expanded it to include the ‘finer art’ of computer research... that is to say hacking. The teen-ager took to his training well; with experience, he would become as proficient a researcher as Jimmy.

‘Mad Dog’ Lane had decided to utilize these new skills of Jack’s. He might not be as fast as Jimmy, but Jack was just as dogged as she was when it came to tracking down information.

Walking over to his tiny cubicle, Lois presented the names of Aykira Milan and Dr. George Amundsen as his research targets. “Find out whatever you can on these two, especially Luthor’s administrative assistant.”

Jack glanced the paper, looked over at Cat’s empty chair and said in a low voice. “Her fiancé? That’s hard to believe, he’s such a nice guy.”

“Hey, you’re paid to *research* the subject, not chose who’s nice or not.”

Unruffled, Jack persisted, “I think you’re wrong, Ms. Lane, but okay. A guy like him has co-workers and team members with stuff to hide. Do you mind if I check out a few people on his team?”

“I don’t care - just find some information we can use to finally jumpstart this investigation.”

Jack, remembering his position as lowest man on the bullpen totem pole, nodded, turned toward his computer screen and bent industriously to the task.

Satisfied, Lois returned to her desk and began going over her notes from the Milan interviews and Clark’s information from Superman about the Harmonic Crystals. For some strange, unshakable reason, she was sure there was a big story here.

She looked up from her notes and glanced over to Clark’s desk. Where on Earth had he disappeared to *now*?

***

Around the same time as Lois was looking for her partner, Aykira walked into Lex’s dimly lighted office suite to see him inspecting his collection of antique firearms. The man seemed in deep contemplation, not even aware of her presence in the room. Ever since the abrupt end to the ‘date’ their ‘working’ relationship had been cordial, but strained. Oh, Lex had apologized profusely on Monday morning, saying he wanted Aykira to consider herself an important part of his life. Nevertheless, she remembered the other women - especially Antoinette Baines: had he not considered her ‘important’ at one time?

All that aside, there was still her mission. Those crystals refused to surface. She sighed internally - in the meantime, he was still paying her to be his administrative assistant.

“Good morning, Mr. Luthor, these are the latest solar panel integrity reports I assembled from LexSolar. I also took the liberty of creating a spreadsheet compiling this year’s first quarter earnings from computer sales in the United States. The financial results are excellent; LexCorp’s stockholders will be satisfied.”

“Thank you, Aykira. Please leave them on the desk.” Lex spoke in a distracted manner; with his left hand, he caressed Alexander’s sword.

Aykira placed the binder down and was ready to depart, but when she looked carefully at his face, it was pinched in pain. She walked over to him placed a gentle hand on his and asked kindly, “Lex, are you all right?”

The billionaire turned his head, flinched when the afternoon light from the terrace hit his eyes and smiled weakly. “Never felt better, please don’t concern yourself.”

Sensing he wanted to be alone, Aykira gave him a quick nod and exited the office. She was certain something was troubling the man, but until Lex Luthor was willing to confide in her, he needed to keep his own counsel.

***

Lex waited until the door was firmly closed behind her then allowed his body to give into a strange sensation of weakness in his arms and legs. He leaned against the display case for a few moments, waiting for the sickening feeling to leave him. The seizures or whatever they were had been increasing in severity of late. This was the nastiest one to date. He did not want to involve Aykira with his personal health matters, at least not yet. Still, it was time for him to take action.

Limping slowly to his desk, he consulted his day planner and dialed a seldom-used number. “Hello, Dr. Baxter’s office? Yes, this is Lex Luthor. I am requesting an emergency appointment with him today.” Lex removed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, paused, and then wiped his profusely perspiring upper lip, while waiting for the receptionist response. “He can see me at noon? Thank you.”

Placing the phone in its cradle, with agonizing slowness Lex eased into the leather armchair, its luxurious feel cushioning his aching body, thinking. <Surely Dr. Baxter will get to the bottom of this aliment and I can get back to normal.>

After several agonizing minutes the worst of the seizure had mercifully passed. Lex began perusing the report with eagerness. His on-site contact, Dr. Scott, had managed to send a coded report within the legitimate one. So far, the team had endeavored to create a working apparatus capable of transmitting energy from the crystals to the panels themselves, with far greater efficiency than the original built by EPRAD. Within a few months the device would be ready for preliminary testing.

Leaning back in his chair, slowly regaining his strength, the billionaire thought to himself, <My plans are taking shape; it’s all a matter of time now. Space Station Lex will *soon* become a reality.>

***

It was late in the workday when Jack approached Lois’s desk with the research results. “Hey Ms Lane, I started digging around Dr. Amundsen’s work history and discovered he used to work for EPRAD before working for LexSolar…”

Unimpressed, Lois cut the teen-ager off. “You spent all day working on this project and the best you can do is come up with work history? Jimmy could track that down in two minutes.”

Jack, determined to prove himself, pressed on, “Ah, let me finish, Ms Lane. A lower level colleague of Dr. Amundsen was a Dr. Frederick Scott, who was Dr. Antoinette Baines’ assistant while she ran the Prometheus Space Station project. I managed to talk with one person at EPRAD off the record and he stated Dr. Scott was envious of her holding a position that should have gone to him. Dr. Scott exited the agency shortly after Dr. Baines resigned, left the state, and went to work as a teacher. His departure was under cloudy circumstances, but only days afterwards, was he hired directly by Lex Luthor’s assistant…Aykira Milan. ”

Lois, interest piqued by Jack’s extensive narrative, urged him with impatient hand gestures to continue.

“Anyhow, Dr. Scott now works at LexSolar in the same department as George…uh Dr. Amundsen. Cat mentioned that Dr. Amundsen is the temporary team lead for a new project over there, something to do with solar panels. Anyhow, he’s only doing that for a few months until LexSolar can find a suitable replacement, since afterwards he and Cat are getting married and they are moving to Seattle.”

“So far, so good Jack. What else have you got?”

“Dr. Scott is working with him on that project. According to water cooler gossip I overheard from Cat, he’s got his sights set on Dr. Amundsen’s position. A recent interview about him in American Science magazine states ‘he is ambitious and brilliant, but with streaks of arrogance’. He’s also known to spend time with scientists of ‘questionable political loyalties’. I did a little further digging and found a few photos of some of those shady questionable associates.

“Their names and fields of specialty are on the back.” He handed her four photographs. Lois eagerly snapped them up and began studying the men’s faces, committing them to memory. “Hans Luger, nuclear fusion; Grant Howell, chemical propulsion; Cameron Axelrod, solar energy and Larry Davelin, petroleum. These men cover the spectrum of energy research. Putting them all together is quite the brain trust.”

“Hmmm, better and better. Why is Cameron Axelrod’s name in red?”

“He’s bad news…a rogue scientist, who has been linked with a number of corporate espionage cases and Intergang. He’s originally from Boston. After reading his history I get the impression that the guy is apparently a real charmer.”

“Why so?” Lois asked.

Each of the last three research firms he was hired to work at as a contractor were all victims of corporate espionage. The trail eventually led to him, but no one would testify against him.”

She nodded. Obviously Axelrod was a man to keep a watchful eye on.

What about Ms. Milan?” Lois tried hard to hide her eagerness.

“She received her associate’s degree in business from some backwater school in New York. Attended a night course semester at MIT for physics, even logged a number of classes in the science of microprocessors. Um, let’s see there were also classes in American financial history. All during that time she worked as a contractor for LexCorp in various departments. Then for some reason that employment ended and she moved to England.”

“Really? Why?” Lois asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Apparently she spent a year working in Oxford’s Faculty of History department. After that, she traveled a lot through Europe and South America. After that she returned to this country and LexCorp again as a contractor, made her way up administrative ranks until just over two years ago she was hired by Luthor personally to be his assistant.”

“A woman as intelligent as that should be running her own company. Not working for Lex Luthor.”

“That’s for sure, she’s one smart lady. Not bad looking either.” Jack added with a quiet smile.

Lois let the last comment pass and fired more questions. “What about her early years? What about her family? Where is she from? Most important of all, where did the money come from to finance her extensive education and travel?”

Jack shook his head. “That’s where it gets a little cloudy and interesting. She’s an orphan. Apparently all her early life records were ‘destroyed’ in a fire about five years ago.”

“Missing’ family history?” Lois questioned. “That’s just too convenient. Great work, Jack! Sorry I barked at you earlier.”

Obviously pleased that the prickly reporter was happy with his work, Jack nodded and went back to his cubicle.

Lois mused to herself, <He’s a good kid and a smart worker. If he keeps this up, I might need to show more respect for his abilities.>

At that moment, Clark exited the elevator, grabbed a cup of coffee, and walked down the ramp. He stepped quickly over to his desk and booted up the computer. Closely behind him walked Cat, her arms loaded with bridal magazines. Humming the wedding march she glided by Clark’s desk smiling, her happiness apparent to the entire newsroom. But as soon as she reached her desk, and saw her phone message light blinking, the gossip columnist returned.

“I hope that’s my source, getting back to me on the Metros quarterback’s betting scandal.” she muttered while listening to the message.

Lois shook her head. Cat may be getting married, but she was still a reporter – albeit gossip – but still a reporter. She turned her head towards her true target. “Clark Kent, where have you been all day? Let me guess, you had to return a video?”

She watched as her flustered partner fumbled with his tie and said, “Well, I did keep that copy of ‘Die Hard’ longer than two days.”

Lois rolled her eyes in disgust and said, “Figures. I’ll never get a straight answer out of the office phantom.”

Clark flashed a killer grin and responded, “What have *you* been up to while I was gone?”

Realizing he was changing the subject, she decided to play along, “Working, unlike some folk I know. Perry’s editing the Diana Stride story even as we speak.”

“Great. Now I need to start ‘working’ myself. While ‘pounding the pavement’ for information on one of my filler pieces, Superman rescued some construction workers when the crane collapsed. I managed to get interviews from the crane operator and some of the workers. Pity Jimmy wasn’t there, the only thing the article needed to make it sing was pictures.” So saying with that heartbreaking smile, Clark started typing furiously on his keyboard, anxious to meet the evening edition deadline.

<Scooped again! How does he do it? More importantly, *why* does Superman always give him the best stories? I thought we were *both* his friends?> Lois wanted to say more, but decided it was more important for Clark to get the story in before Perry came roaring out of his office.

<That did it! Apology or not she was getting into LexSolar for her own scoop.> She waited until Clark was completely engrossed in typing, than dialed a number she knew by heart.

“Hello Louie. This is Lois. How’s Doreen? Still enjoying her job as a coach on the ITA Tennis Circuit?”

“Hey kid, long time no hear! Yup, my daughter is making her old man proud! Now if she would just break up with that cop boyfriend of hers! The other family members don’t like to come to dinner when they’re around. Know what I mean? Hey, you still working with that straight arrow… Kent? He’s not giving you any trouble is he? I know guys who know guys.”

Lois felt a genuine smile of pleasure spread across her face, Hearing Louie’s voice brought back several happy college memories. “No Louie, sometimes I wish I could ask the ‘boys’ to get ‘enthusiastic’ with Clark, but it wouldn’t do any good. No, what I need is your help acquiring some ‘equipment’ for a little job I’m planning in a couple of days.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line; Lois could almost imagine her friend sitting back in his chair, contemplating his next words. “Equipment for a job huh? Local usage or industrial strength?”

Puzzled she asked, “What’s the difference?

“The difference is knocking over a bank is a different kind of job requiring different or ‘industrial strength’ tools. Knowing you, it’ll be some corporate heist. So the equipment would be ‘local’.”

Taken aback, she responded, “Louie, this is Lois… why would I want to pull off a corporate heist?”

“Yeah, well, like I said, I know guys… and then I know you. Word on the street, is LexCorp has something to do with that freighter hijacking a few months back. You and the ‘arrow’ are probably lookin’ into it. Don’t worry kid; I ain’t saying nothin’ to nobody. Now, what or where is this job?”

After a lengthy discussion with Louie, outlining her ‘equipment’ requirements Lois hung up and started making a list of additional items. Once finished, she looked up and shouted. “Jack!”

***

Two evenings later in Lois’ apartment, she prepared for her larcenous nocturnal activities. Fortunately, for her, the giant research facility was located five miles outside of Metropolis in one of the country’s most prestigious business parks, Luthor Industrial Park or LIP to the locals.

<Louie’s burglary equipment should get me past the security cameras, locks and the guards.> Lois thought as she donned her stylized ‘cat burglar’ disguise: blond wig, stuffed underneath her black knit cap. Her shoes had one-inch lifts fitted inside. All this designed to throw off an accurate description of the ‘perp’. She struggled for a moment with the final piece of her ‘disguise’: a pair of blue contact lenses.

She slung the small weighty black bag containing all the necessary tools over her shoulder, exited her apartment, and walked to the parking garage. Swiftly she opened the car door and carefully placed the bag onto the passenger’s side of her Jeep. The late spring night was inky black and once again heavy rain clouds threatened above. <Good.> she thought, <It’ll be harder to see me in this darkness. Now if the rain will just hold off until after this little escapade is done.>

Lois loved the adrenaline rush just before ‘pulling a job’. It heightened her senses beyond the humdrum of investigative research from paperwork. This is where the action was! She marked her chronometer at 12:30 a.m.

The only obstacle to dampen her spirits as she drove through the now quiet city streets was knowing this particular ‘job’ did not have Clark’s blessing.

<Rats! Ever since that over-grown boy scout entered my life, *nothing* has been the same.> Her irksome conscience shot back. <But then again, hasn’t your life improved since he showed up? Maybe he is right and this *is* too big of a risk. Turn back now, before any damage is done.>

Annoyed with the mental gymnastics going on in her head, she told her conscience to switch off for the night. Still a nagging feeling kept urging her to turn the Jeep around and head for home.

She continued driving. Metropolis’ skyscrapers receded into the distance, replaced by squat office structures and darkened strip malls, shut tight for the night. In time, she reached the LIP (Luthor Industrial Park) and drove slowly through the night towards LexSolar.

Part Eight

Directly across the wide central concourse of the LIP from LexSolar complex, stood the renowned Conquistador Hotel. It was a popular destination. Designed for the busy multi-tasking business traveler, it featured a select range of services aimed at providing casual hospitality in a well-designed, high-tech and contemporary environment. Lois remembered reporting on several diplomatic functions for the Planet at the high-end establishment. However, what she needed from the place tonight was its back parking lot. It should be dark enough and far enough away from prying eyes and surveillance cameras so she could move about freely.

Lois parked the Jeep in the dark back lot, grabbed her bag and avoiding any pools of light from the parking lights, walked stealthy back toward her objective. Intermittent drops of rain trickled down. The pavement grew sleek with moisture while the ground began to smell damp and earthy. <Great,> she thought. <My cold finally goes away, now it’ll probably come back with a vengeance. Still, this rain is a blessing in disguise it will cover my movements. The dreary weather reminds me of the night this entire investigation started, a night of hard, consistent rain.> The intrepid reporter walked quickly out of the parking lot, staying in the shadows. She gingerly avoided walking on the lawn … mud left tracks.

Still clinging to deep shadows, by avoiding street lights, Lois ran up the sidewalk away from the hotel for about two minutes; then when the Conquistador was no longer visible, she crossed the concourse that separated the hotel from LexSolar. Now swiftly running down the street, she stopped at the bottom of a long curvy elm tree-lined driveway leading up to the east wing of the building, near one of the smaller entrances. Warily she ran from tree to tree until she arrived at the wide east parking lot. <No trees here, just a long retaining wall leading to the small alcove entrance Louie had marked previously on the blueprint.>

She reached the alcove entrance. Still hugging the dark red brick of the wall, Lois ducked down to avoid detection from the overhead surveillance camera. Once under the device, Lois stretched and stood on tip toes to place a night-time Polaroid snapshot of the entrance over its lens. She counted off 60 seconds to make sure security had not noticed the tampering.

<Oldest trick in the book.> she thought. <Good thing Louie has a ‘connection’ in this place, who was able to take this photo.>

Once that was done, she pulled a tool from the depths of her bag and attached the leads to the swipe lock. It took all of two seconds for the lock to disengage, open the heavy glass door and grant access to the hushed, dark building.

After switching on her penlight and checking for interior cameras along the staircase, Lois ran up the dark three flights to the offices of Drs. Amundsen and Scott.

Her mind went back two days and her conversation with Jack, making ‘requests’.

***

“Get me the current blueprints of LexSolar and the office location of those two scientists.”

“Anything else?” Jack responded, rising to the challenge.

“Yeah, I need it last week.”

Lois was surprised to find both requests answered before the day shift ended. All the materials she wanted were neatly placed inside two separate red folders Jack had set on her chair. When she asked how he procured the information, his mysterious reply was, “You got resources, I got mine.” So saying, he saluted the reporter than walked back to his tiny cubicle near the research department. <Well I’ll be.> She thought wryly. <Jimmy’s young protégé might just have the chops for this job after all!>

Of course, it would have been much easier to simply ask Cat where her fiancé’s office was located; but somehow Lois did not think the gossip columnist would appreciate George being one of the objectives of her break-in operation.

Later that night at her apartment, wearing comfortable sweats and picking over the remains of Chinese takeout, she had studied the blueprints extensively, familiarizing herself with the building’s layout for quick access and egress.

***

Now here in the building itself, moving through the somberly quiet and dark corridor, she remembered the scientist’s offices were numbered E-259 and E-258 in the ‘E’ wing. By running up the central staircase and making a sharp left and walking a mere twenty feet further and to her right was E-259, Dr. George Amundsen’s office.

She knelt down to pick the lock only to discover that the door was open. <Oh boy, this is way too easy.> She thought. Before entering the room, she held back for a moment, just in case George was in there sleeping. Cat had told her once he occasionally worked late and took brief naps. Several anxious seconds passed; there was no reaction to Lois opening the door. Moving stealthily, she entered the room.

The office itself was furnished in boring standard tan office furniture. The only way to distinguish George’s office from any other she had encountered was the numerous ‘encouragement’ pictures framed and hanging on the scientist’s walls. < So strange,> Lois thought. <Especially since Cat mentioned he has a wide range of interests.>

On his desk was a picture taken last autumn of himself and Cat bundled in comfortable wool sweaters, walking through a pile of colorful leaves in Centennial Park. It was a lovely shot of a couple very content together. Lois once again felt happiness for the other woman - perhaps even a pang of jealousy. But she quickly put her mind back onto the task at hand.

After an extensive twenty-minute search through all of Amundsen’s files, desk and credenza, not a single item of interest came to the reporter’s attention. She turned on his computer and once the monitor flared to life, she took a chance and typed in CAT for the password. With a gentle *beep* the main menu appeared.

Lois snorted derisively. George completely ignored basic computer security protocol. She wondered, if LexCorp Security knew about that password, would the scientist be fired for such an offense? After all, didn’t he want to protect his files from industrial spies… like her? She ran a master search program to bring up any file with crystal or harmonic in the title or contents. Another ten minutes went by, again nothing.

“OKAY Cat, the ‘Wild man’ is clear… so far.”

Quickly she returned all the papers and books to their proper location. Looking at her chronometer, the time read 2:15 a.m. “I’ve been at this for thirty minutes, pretty soon the guards are going to make their rounds. Hopefully something will turn up in Dr. Scott’s office,” she mumbled to herself.

Kneeling down, Lois peeked outside the office, counted off thirty seconds then walked across the hallway, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. Dr. Scott’s office door was an entirely different matter; the lock was not standard office issue, but of a style she had never tackled before. It took the reporter three nerve-racking minutes to understand and defeat the lock. Finally, her hands damp from sweat within her special black leather gloves, she finally managed to slowly open the door and step into Dr. Scott’s office.

Once within the gloomy room, she locked the door behind her. When the guards made rounds, they would probably not expect this door to be open. Cautiously using her penlight, she swept the room and noted it was completely different from George’s. Upon the wall were several pictures of Dr. Scott with noted local politicians and scientists. One EPRAD group picture was taken with Lex Luthor, his hand placed judicially on Dr. Antoinette Baines’ shoulder. Dr. Scott, although Dr. Baines’ assistant at the time; stood far in the background; the only person in the group not smiling. The desk’s surface was adorned with a very expensive red leather desk set. <This guy really wants visitors to think he’s important.>

Lois turned away from the pictures and attempted to open the desk drawers, but they were tightly locked. <Hmm somebody this security-minded won’t leave incriminating evidence in hard copy.> She went to the computer turned it on and rather than take a crack at typing passwords she pulled out the most important device of her ‘equipment’…a bypass ‘slave’ mechanism.

She remembered how Louie’s booming voice rang out clear and loud while showing her how to operate it. {Just hook this little beauty into one of the tower ports and Whamo! The computer will act like it’s yours.} True to his word, as soon as the mechanism finished its take-over routine the computer’s main menu sprang up. Nervous with excitement, she typed in a search program and waited.

For all of three minutes, Lois waited anxiously for the master file search to locate and reveal *anything * related to Harmonic Crystals. She was about to despair that the entire break-in was a complete failure when files started coming up, some with names like Crystal ‘Harvest’, Crystal ‘Instal’ and several others. “Jackpot!” Lois squeaked, careful to remember where she was. She opened Crystal ‘Harvest’ and started reading all the particulars of the Shackleton freighter hijacking.

Smiling with triumph, Lois zipped open her bag and fished out a diskette. <This is perfect! I’ll download the entire sub folder! After the story is sent to Perry’s inbox, we can contact General Zeitlin and tell him who took his crystals! Pulitzer, here I come!> All these thoughts frantically raced through her mind as her fingers nimbly tried to put the diskette in the slot. The diskette bent slightly, refusing to slide in. “What…?” She flashed her light over the computer tower. The slot was sealed off. <Why would Scott do that? Doesn’t he occasionally download information from his computer?> She sat thinking for a few minutes, and then realized Dr. Scott used the new portable, but bulky, diskettes drives. <The only way to download materials from this computer is with that drive. The one thing that is *not* in my burglar bag! Rats! Where’s Jimmy when I need him?>

Much as she loathed doing it, Lois started printing out the information. It took two minutes for ‘Harvest’ to print; she was getting concerned about the noise. Once the file ceased printing, Lois thought she had pushed her luck and decided this was enough material for Inspector Henderson and a grand jury investigation. While her heart pounded out a wild tattoo; she gathered up the printout, shut down the computer, put everything back in its place, and switched off the desk lamp.

Standing by the door, she was about to zip up her bag and exit the office when the sounds of heavy footsteps, keys rattling and deep male voices reached her perked-up ears.

“I’m telling you Cliff, the printing noise came from this side. Check the odd number offices; I’ll check the even ones.”

Cliff grunted in agreement and Lois bit her lower lip trying not to cry out. Moving quickly, she dived into the tight knee space under the desk. Holding her breath, she listened as the insistent clatter of multiple keys drew closer and stopped just outside the office door. After much fumbling with the lock, the guard warily opened the door and instead of turning on the light, swept his flashlight haphazardly over the room.

Lois listened as heavy feet entered the office and slowly walked around the still gloomy room. From the sound of wheezing, labored breathing and the faintest whiff of alcohol Lois gathered that this particular rent-a-cop’s greatest exercise was watching the camera monitors accompanied by ‘liquid’ entertainment. Long tense moments later, the guard departed to check other offices further down the wide corridor. Lois waited a good ten minutes before crawling out from under the desk, her muscles relieved after their long confinement. She crossed the room, unlocked the door and peeked out again, checking either end of the dim hallway. Once again the corridor was quiet and deserted; it was 3:25 am. Her hard won information safely tucked in the burglar bag; she slung it over a slim shoulder. It was time to go.

With hasty steps, she ran down the inky dark corridor to the central staircase, nervously pulled the wool knit cap tightly over the blonde wig, then ran lightly down the stairs. Upon reaching the second floor landing; she suddenly heard familiar keys rattling and beams of light flashing on the other side of the door when two men burst out from the 2nd floor entrance.

“Stop! Put your hands up!”

Icy panic shot through her body, but Lois had no intention of stopping for him or anyone. She continued running down the stairs, the guards in eager pursuit. She reached the bottom of the stairwell, practically jumped toward the exit and pulled on the door - it steadfastly refused to budge. Shocked, shaken and adrenal glands desperately activated, the reporter’s body twisted to face down her pursuers. The bigger one, probably the ‘wheezer’, could not halt his lumbering movements to stop in time. Lois turned her body and kicked him hard in the solar plexus. The man went down like a pole-axed steer, dark curses spewing from his mouth.

“Turn around! I have a gun!” The remaining guard shouted.

Not allowing the other guard a chance to react, Lois struck him with another well-placed kick. He also went down, holding his side and coughing. Searching his pockets, she located the swipe cardkey, ran it through the security box and frantically pushed open the door.

Just as she stepped over the threshold, a sharp ugly metallic coughing sound assaulted her ears. All of a sudden hot searing pain passed through her left arm; a dry strangled cry escaped her throat and she clutched the wounded limb. Yet through it all, her wobbly legs kept moving.

Outside the rain now cascaded heavily down with a murky, wet intensity. Instantly Lois’ clothes were saturated and now clung to her skin uncomfortably. Her shoes were totally wet and squishy, making her steps painfully awkward and sluggish. Pushing the distress aside, she ran along the dark red brick walls trying to avoid detection and capture. The burglar bag, containing its hard won goods, banged reassuringly against her hip. <Despite the danger of running in the dark, the rainfall’s noise should cover my footsteps and the blasted rain ought to slow down the rent-a-cops! I should be back at the Jeep in no time!>

Lois had barely finished her thought when suddenly the entire area burst into fierce, bright illumination and three shots rang out.

Her night vision temporarily destroyed, Lois stuck to the high brick wall until she reached the cover of the large elm trees. She half limped, half ran until she arrived at the end of the long curvy driveway. First over soggy earthen terrain, that sucked and pulled her struggling feet, then easy-to-move-over hard concrete. The staccato rhythm of her heartbeats hammering in her ears, she was grateful to finally arrive at the Jeep in the Conquistador’s back parking lot.

The insistent rain had made progress difficult, especially because she had to keep wiping water from her face. Fighting down her trembling, Lois struggled to get the keys out of her pocket and into the Jeep’s lock. Once inside the dry warmth and safety of the vehicle, she gave into violent shaking, wishing she was anywhere but there. Strangely, at that moment her mind traveled to the soothing visage of her partner. <Oh how I wish Clark were here!>

For an agonizing few moments, she clumsily worked to remove the heavy black leather jacket. The dampness and pain made any movement almost impossible. Finally, the jacket removed, she dumped it into the back of the Jeep. Next, she pulled off the damp hat, wig and finally, the blue contacts. Hopefully, the guards would remember a tall blonde assailant, not an average-built brunette.

The old black sweater was ruined, the left sleeve ripped and covered in blood; carefully, painfully, she rolled it up to reveal a deep slash. Leaning back in her seat and trying to catch her breath, she thought <Thank heavens! Not a penetrating gunshot wound.> Unfortunately, the bullet had dug a deep ugly gash in her arm. Between the shock and pain, for all intents and purposes the arm was useless; she would have to drive one-handed.

Off in the distance, police car sirens blared shrilly; somehow, she had to get out of there, but how? Surely, the place would be crawling with police in only a few moments. After all, this was the LIP - Luthor territory. The fierce burning pain was making her dizzy, but losing consciousness now was totally out of the question.

She leaned back and permitted one minute to gather her thoughts and make an exit strategy. But the insistent throb of her arm and the feeling of hot salty tears running down her cheeks made planning almost out of the question.

All she could think of was the look of disappointment on Perry’s face. How could she expect the Daily Planet’s legal team to defend her when she so blatantly flouted the law? However, no one’s displeasure could she bear more than Clark’s. Yet somehow, the thought of Clark gave her strength. Suddenly a crazy line of attack came into sharp focus and ‘Mad Dog’ Lane forced the pain to the back of her mind.

Rummaging in the back of the Jeep, she found a large, old red shawl, wrapped it around her shoulders, straightened her wet and matted hair as best as possible, applied a little lipstick and mascara to make a proper appearance then drove like a woman possessed out of the Conquistador’s parking lot - straight toward two police cruisers.

“Hey officer! I’m Lois Lane of the Daily Planet. What’s going on?”

The policeman, a long-time veteran, groaned inwardly when he saw Lois, thinking she probably heard about the break-in over a police scanner and wanted an exclusive. He lied, “Sorry Miss Lane, it’s all a mistake… false alarm.”

“Seriously,” she gestured at all the emergency lights and security personnel going over the grounds with dogs and flashlights. “This is LexSolar’s attitude towards a mistake? I would hate to be around when something serious happens.”

The man forced a smile, but said through his teeth, “We will be sure to pass on your recommendation.”

“Thanks officer, give my best to Bill Henderson.” So saying, Lois backed up her Jeep and drove off, while a police investigative team entered the Conquistador.

Still shaking, Lois fought to control her speed until she was out of sight, then drove as quickly as her arm, pulsating with pain, would tolerate.

It was nearly 4:30 am by the time Lois approached 344 Clinton Street. Driving any further was out of the question. The adrenaline rush from her escape in the downpour had long faded. She was beginning to sweat and feel the mounting pain roiling over her body in acute waves. At any moment she expected to vomit. The struggle to keep awake and park the Jeep drained the last of her strength. On sheer willpower alone, she managed to drag her body out of the car and stumble toward his building.

<Clark; got to get to Clark.> With halting steps she approached his front door and as the grey fringes of unconsciousness over took her mind, attempted to knock.

Part Nine

Inside, Clark was benefiting from a deep restful sleep; Pepper lay contentedly at his feet. Mrs. Harper’s family emergency had continued. His landlady had assured Clark another relative could take the gentle feline off his hands, but he wouldn’t hear of it. The two had become fast friends. Pepper was welcome to stay with him as long as possible.

Suddenly both man and animal raised their heads. Clark heard Lois’ feeble cries for help, along with her erratically beating heart. Instantly he flew to the front door. Flinging it open looking down, he saw the crumbled, wet and bloody form of his partner.

“Lois!” Clark cried out. His throat tightened with alarm as he gently gathered her limp body into his arms and swiftly floated through the apartment into the bedroom. Gently he placed her onto the still-warm bed. He saw the haphazardly wrapped arm and examined it. The bloody gash was severe, but his medical skills, consisting of only the rough and ready emergency variety, could not help in this instance.

“Lois, can you hear me? I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“N…no hospital, police would find out! Please… help me.”

Clark was about to argue, when he thought of his childhood Smallville friend, Dr. Pete Ross. Reaching for the phone, he dialed New Troy General.

After waiting what seemed like an eternity while the operator put him through to the doctor’s private line, Clark heard the clear and steady voice of Pete Ross.

<<“Clark, old buddy! To what do I owe the pleasure of this call…at 4:30am?“>>

“I need your help Pete… medically. Can you come over right away?”

The voice on the other end of the voice sounded confused. <<“Ah, can’t you bring the patient here?”>>

He replied, “No. This was not a Superman rescue… it’s my partner, Lois; she’s suffering from a – gunshot wound of some kind.”

<<”Lois… right. Okay, my shift ends in a few minutes. I’ll be over directly. Keep her comfortable and warm. There is a definite possibility of her slipping into shock. Then we have to bring her into the hospital. Oh, by the way Clark?”>>

“Yeah, Pete?”

<<“I want a full explanation. *Not* reporting a gunshot wound isn’t exactly legal.”>>

Clark closed his eyes in relief and said, “You and me both. Thanks, Pete.”

***

Pete mentally shook his head. <Clark’s invulnerability should protect him from anything… except kryptonite.> He was deeply concerned about Lois’ wound, but thankfully even from Clark’s vague description it did not sound life-threatening. For as long as he had known Clark danger and adventure was never far behind him. But now that a certain brunette had entered his life the ‘danger’ ante had been upped considerably.

He called one of the ER nurses and asked if there were any cases which needed his immediate attention. The stout, competent woman looked over her clipboard and informed him that it was a quiet night. If he wanted to leave early one of the residents could cover for him.

It only took five minutes to change out of his scrubs and into street clothes. He picked up a medical emergency kit and headed outside into the night.

***

After hanging up the phone, Clark returned to his patient. He tried to make her comfortable, carefully removing the wet shoes and socks. After a brief mental debate as to whether he should take off the wet outer garments he did so – at super speed. He felt like he was invading her privacy, but she couldn’t remain in those wet things. With that task, complete he finally covered her slight frame with one of Martha’s colorful quilts. Lois moaned softly under the covers, she was in pain. He never had a need for pain medication, since his Kryptonian physiology rarely experienced hurt of any kind. Feeling helpless, Clark started pacing the bedroom floor. It was all he could do until Pete arrived.

His mind ran on; what could Lois possibly be doing out on a rainy night like this, getting into a situation so terrible she didn’t want the police involved? Her body moved again under the afghan, her delicate features contorted in discomfort. His heart twisted at the sight and felt his fists clutched in unaccustomed rage at the person who inflicted injury and pain upon her. If he found out who was responsible they would be very regretful. Clark’s eyes began to smolder a deep ruby red, eager to destroy by fire Lois’ tormentor.

He caught himself and thought, <Stop! Whoever it was will pay for this later, right now Lois needs your comfort. If she sees your eyes, it’s bound to frighten her.> Clark fought hard to get his tumultuous emotions under control. Gradually the super-charged alien eyes returned to their normal gentle human brown. He knelt down on the bed and gathered her into his arms. She snuggled closer to him, instantly feeling loved and protected by his comforting presence. Clark rocked her gently; suddenly a tiny voice emerged from the depths of blanket fabric and his arms.

“D… don’t let the police take me away. I only broke in for the story. Please don’t be angry with me.”

There were dozens of questions running through his mind. Where did she go? Who shot her? He wanted to ask, but instead he brushed long fingers through the tendrils of her damp hair and kissed the sweet forehead. “Shush baby. No one is taking you away, not as long as I’m here.”

“Oh… Clark!” She sobbed. “I made such a mess of things, putting my life in jeopardy, just to get a scoop. I kept imagining what everyone might think and say if…if the guards caught me. But mostly I thought about you and how much I wished you were by my side. I…I won’t try anything crazy like that again. Next time I *will* check the water level.”

He smiled softly thinking to himself knowing full well that Lois Lane would never ‘check the water level’ no matter what the consequences when it came to ferreting out the truth. “Let’s not worry about that now. Your arm needs medical attention and… “

“No! The police will ask questions. Inspector Henderson and that – that ADA Mayson Drake will get involved.” She began to struggle in his arms, her heart beating like a frightened, captured bird.

“Shush, no, it’s okay. Remember meeting my old friend from Smallville, Dr. Pete Ross? He’s coming over to look at your arm. Lois, I trust Pete with my life. He will take excellent care of you.”

She stopped fighting and laid her head on his shoulder. “I don’t deserve you as a friend, Clark.” He cupped his hand under her chin. In the semi-darkness of the bedroom, with his enhanced vision, he gazed lovingly down into the melancholy, tear-stained face. Words came to mind, but he decided on action instead. Very slowly, he brought his lips to hers and brushed them gently in an innocent kiss. Lois’ lips responded softly, almost shyly. Much as he didn’t want to, Clark pulled away, whispering huskily. “That’s what friends are for. Now just be quiet and try to rest. Pete will be here soon.”

Lois, too tired and emotionally drained to argue, cuddled closer to Clark. Gradually her breathing slowed and she fell into a light sleep.

He held her thus for what seemed like an eternity, watching the sky outside progressively lightening with the promise of a new day.

Pepper sat quietly at the foot of the bed, his green eyes carefully watching his guardian and the other human with keen feline interest.

“Meow?’ The cat asked.

Clark looked down at the little animal, reached over, and scratched the fur behind his ears. “Just ‘another’ adventure with Lois, Pepper. It’ll be okay.”

Abruptly the distant sound of a car door slamming reached his ears. Clark gently extracted himself from Lois, exited the bedroom, quietly floated across the apartment and up the short flight of stairs to the front door. Opening it, he could hear a man’s heavy tread approaching. A few moments later, the powerful frame of Dr. Pete Ross came through the door.

With a profound sigh of relief Clark said, “At last! Come on, she’s in the bedroom!”

The other man immediately went into doctor mode when he saw Lois’s small body lying on the bed and started examining her.

“How did this happen?” the MD said as he bent to his work. “Wait, don’t tell me. She was investigating some story?”

“Pete, I honestly don’t know what happened. I was sleeping when I heard her calling me. By the time I got to the door she had already lost consciousness.” Clark said as he ran his fingers through sleep-tousled hair.

Clark watched as Pete worked. First, the doctor carefully removed any of the remaining fabric from the sweater stuck in the gash. Then he disinfected the deep ugly injury, swabbed the wound with antibiotics, and put in several stitches to close up the worst of the injury. Finally, he wrapped Lois’ arm with clean gauze and placed the arm in a sling.

All the while, Clark watched intensely as his friend worked. It hurt him deeply that Lois would probably have an ugly scar to remind her forever of this escapade. Inwardly he sighed; thanking the heavens she was now safe, because the outcome could have been much, much worse.

The two friends stepped out of the sleeping alcove and walked into the main living area. Pete spoke with authority as he packed up the emergency kit into his medical bag.

“Lois is very fortunate; the bullet grazed the arm and hit a few veins but no main arteries. Blood loss was scary looking, but minimal and there will be no permanent muscle or nerve damage. As long as she keeps the arm immobilized and clean in a couple of days she should be just fine. She will need to take some antibiotics in order to ward off infection. I’ll drop that by tomorrow.”

Clark exhaled the breath he did not know he was holding and thanked his friend.

“Oh don’t thank me just yet. As a doctor, I am legally bound to report gunshot wounds – even if it is just a nasty graze. Since she’s unconscious we still don’t know the circumstances of the shooting. As her partner, you must have some idea of what she was working on?”

Clark rubbed the back of his neck. He trusted Pete with his secret identity, but did he want to drag him into this situation? Mentally making the decision Clark said, “It could be one of three on-going investigations, Pete, but until she regains consciousness I can’t be sure exactly which one she’s working on. Let me find out what it is then I shall get back to you. That’s a promise”

Pete nodded, and started packing up his medical bag. Clark turned on the TV intent on listening to LNN’s early morning news. He was shocked to hear Gloria Campos start the hour with a burglary at the LexSolar facility in the Luthor Industrial Park. The report revealed nothing was stolen and there was some speculation of it being corporate espionage or a possibly disgruntled former employee.

As the story was about to end it was briefly mentioned that ace investigative reporter, Lois Lane, of the Daily Planet was present and tried get the scoop, but security guards and the police turned her away.

Clark groaned loudly. Pete faced him with a questioning look than said. “*That* was the investigation? Breaking into a corporate facility? One owned by Lex Luthor? No wonder she doesn’t want the police involved. Your partner is in major league hot water, my friend.”

“Don’t I know it! Because there are bound to be many uncomfortable questions, especially from Perry wondering why Lois ‘Mad Dog’ Lane meekly left a hot story.”

“Can’t you write the article yourself?” Pete asked.

A voice, feeble, but determined growled from behind them. “Don’t even think about it, buster!”

The young men turned around to see a disheveled Lois stumbling out of the sleeping alcove, clutching the quilt around her. Physically, she was a wreck, but those dark brown eyes flashed dangerously. Clark knew from experience ‘Mad Dog’ Lane was making a meager attempt at being heard. Injury, be hanged.

“Lois, what are you doing out of bed?” Clark shouted.

“Doing what any good reporter would do… saving my story! My bag… where’s my bag?” She tried walking into the living room searching for the item, than faltered, all her previous bravado drained away.

Clark ran at a speed slightly faster than human normal and gathered her flaccid body into his arms. He hoped she was too disoriented to notice. “This is getting to be a habit,” he said to Pete. “She refuses to sit still!”

Pete said firmly, “Put her on the couch. The last thing she needs is to tear those stitches.”

Clark eased her down onto the couch. “Where’s my bag? Lois muttered again. “The answer to the Shackleton hijacking is in it.”

Clark indicted to his friend that the bag was leaning just inside the apartment front door. Pete understood his meaning and quickly brought the wet bag to Lois.

“Here you go,” he said, handing the wet leather bag over somewhat gingerly.

Lois grabbed it hastily and with her right hand reached inside, only to pull out a handful of soggy, ink-stained papers. Unfortunately, in her haste to leave Dr. Scott’s office, she had forgotten to zip the bag closed. The torrential downpour had soaked everything inside. “No!” A strangled, hoarse cry escaped from her throat. “I risked my life and reputation, for this?”

“Please, calm down, everything will be all right.” Clark begged as he sat by her side and placed his reassuring hands on to her trembling shoulders. “Let these papers dry in the kitchen. Remember, we collated Dr. Platt’s notes? We can do the same here. Come on, go back to sleep, that arm needs to stay in the sling for a couple of days. I’ll talk to Perry in the morning.”

“But Perry will want to know what happened. I was there and didn’t report it, that…that flatfoot lied to me!” Lois cried out.

Pete asked curiously, “How would you know?”

“Because *I* was the burglar! The only reason why I’m admitting this is because Clark trusts you.” She attempted standing to pace the small living room, but her arm’s pain, and sleep deprivation, was beginning to take its toll.

“Pete, as a doctor will you *please* talk some sense into her? She’s got to rest,” Clark said in frustration and not a little bit of alarm. She had done exactly what he told her not to do…break into Luthor’s corporate facility with trigger-happy guards. He groaned internally. He wanted Lois to sleep. He wanted Pete to leave, so he could figure out what to tell Perry. He wanted this crazy night - correction – crazy morning to settle down.

After no small amount of coaxing, Lois was tucked into bed with a mild sedative. Pete bade his friend good night. He promised to stop by the apartment to look in on Lois and drop off her medicine before starting his shift that evening.

Clark laid the wet documents on various surfaces in the kitchen alcove. The sodden papers held incriminating evidence about the hijacking, important enough for Lois to risk her life and career stealing them. All Clark had to do was ‘quick dry’ them with his heat vision. He listened for Lois’ breathing to make sure she was sleeping, then slowly warmed the papers until they dried.

Curious, Clark used his microscopic vision to ‘read’ the faint ink impressions remaining on the purloined document’s paper. As he read the material, his interest was piqued. <WOW! She was right! There is information as to the what, where, when and how, but we need to know *who* bankrolled Dr. Scott’s hijacking plans.>

Gloria Campos’ voice cut through his thoughts. The TV reporter had started recycling the main stories of the day, chiefly the LexSolar break in. His mind went back to another problem. How could he tell Perry why the Lane half of the ‘hottest news team in town’ allowed herself to be scooped - especially since she was right there in the LIP? <More importantly,> Clark thought gloomy, <how was he going to explain her presence in the area at 3:30 in the morning?>

***

After what constituted a very tumultuous night into morning Clark arrived at the Daily Plant newsroom earlier than usual. He looked into Perry’s office and saw the senior editor sitting down at his desk going over copy with a red pen. He didn’t even need his enhanced abilities to hear the strains of ‘Are You Lonesome Tonight’ emanating loudly from Perry’s battered old cassette player.

Still in a quandary as to what to tell Perry regarding Lois’ absence today, Clark walked determinedly down the ramp to his office. Taking a deep breath, he mustered up courage and knocked gently on the door.

“Come on in, Clark,” the older man said while turning down his cassette player. “Here I thought I was the only one to come in with the chickens. What’s on your mind?”

“Uh, Chief. Lois called this morning and asked me to tell you she won’t be in for a couple of days. She’s not feeling very well.” Clark winced internally, hoping Perry would accept his word and move on.

“Uh huh.” There was a momentary pause as Perry stared at the younger man suspiciously. “Son, I know she’s your partner and all but, since when do you make excuses for Lois?”

“Sir?” Clark asked as he self-consciously touched his glasses and smoothed down the perfectly straight tie.

Shaking his gray head, Perry continued. “How many times do I have to repeat myself? I didn’t get and *keep* this office because I can yodel. I watched LNN this morning and heard the cheap shot they took at her. They knew she didn’t get the story…and it will be confirmed when it doesn’t appear in the Daily Planet’s morning edition.”

Clark feeling his face flush was compelled to say something began, “Ah well…she -”

“Let me finish. Either she’s found evidence of an even bigger story or something happened to her.” Perry’s facial expression suddenly became quite still. “Son, want to tell your ‘ole editor what your partner was doing in the Luthor Industrial Park at that hour…in the pouring rain?”

Clark fumbled with his tie trying to think up a decent story. But, he could not lie to Perry, not about this. “She, uh… she broke into LexSolar. Apparently she thought they might have information on the Shackleton hijacking.”

“Judas Priest!” Perry exploded. The older man stood up came around his desk and advanced toward Clark. “Something told me she would attempt a half-baked stunt like this! Man, why didn’t you try to stop her?”

“I tried when she first mentioned it - two months ago. Remember our feud? That’s what those two chilly days between us were all about. But you know Lois, once she gets something in her head…”

“…she won’t let go.” Perry concluded. “Is she all right?”

“Uh, that’s the other thing… shots were fired and - a bullet grazed her left arm.”

Badly frightened, the blood drained from Perry’s face. He leaned shakily against the desk. “Good Lord. What hospital is she in?”

“No hospital. She came to my place directly from LexSolar. She was afraid going for medical attention might involve the police. I called a doctor friend of mine to tend to the injury. Her arm is immobilized for a couple of days while it heals.”

Visibly relieved, Perry asked another question. “Why aren’t you there with her? She might need some help?”

“Believe me, Chief, I thought about that. Imagine how suspicious it would look if *both* of us were out of the office. Besides, the sedative she was given should let her sleep until noon. I’ll check back on her then.”

“That’s fine for now. Let’s just hope Inspector Henderson or worse yet, Mayson Drake, doesn’t come around here looking for Lois and asking a lot of very uncomfortable questions. Look son, tell Lois to take all the time she needs to heal. In the meantime, I’m going to finish editing one of her lighter pieces to cover her absence.”

“Good idea Chief, and thanks. Lois will appreciate the help.”

“Yeah well, she’s going to get a ‘world-class’ chewing out when she gets back to the newsroom… *especially* if she doesn’t deliver the rest of this story!”

Part Ten

Brrring!

At precisely 6:30am, while Clark was talking with Perry in his office, across town a phone rang with shrill indifference to Aykira’s desire for sleep. Thinking it was her alarm clock she reached out from under the blankets to shut off the offending device. Task accomplished, she rolled over and went back to sleep.

Brrring!

Realizing that it wasn’t her alarm and picking up the phone, she snarled, voice thick with sleep. “Who is this?”

“Good Morning Ms. Milan…ahh… I don’t mean to disturb your rest, it’s Security Chief Hackett down here at LexSolar.”

“This had better be good, Neil, otherwise you are fired.”

“Yes Ma’am.” There was a pause as the man took a deep breath. “A break-in occurred this morning. Drs. Amundsen and Scott’s department was the target. I tried to reach Mr. Luthor, but there’s no answer at his place and he didn’t leave another number. According to protocol, if he isn’t available I need to contact you.”

“Right.” Aykira growled. “It should take about an hour for me to get there barring traffic. Make sure there is either strawberry yogurt or a smoothie in the East conference room when I arrive.” She hung up and tried reaching Lex on his personal cell phone, to no avail. She asked the empty air “Where is that man?”

Loathing departure of the warmth of her bed, yet determined not to waste another minute, Aykira pushed back the satin sheets, donned a sensually comfortable red silk robe and walked towards the bathroom.

Within a very rapid thirty minutes, she exited her apartment and walked hastily to the elevator. Since she would be playing the role of interviewing the guards, she had dressed conservatively in a crisp heavy linen black pantsuit with a silk lavender shell blouse. It only took another moment to emerge from her building’s underground garage. Aykira’s silver Mercedes-Benz knifed through the streets of Metropolis, the city still in the grips of early morning slumber. Since traffic was not busy as yet, the drive time to Luthor Industrial Park was mercifully quick.

She tried calling Lex again as the car moved onto the highway. Part of her was truly worried about him. Despite his protestations of health yesterday he did not look himself. It was not like him to ignore calls from security staff, especially LexSolar. In the few past months that place had become his favorite company…almost an obsession. Of course, through clandestine investigations she knew there was a good reason why.

<All of this happened after the Shackleton hijacking. The two are definitely connected. Luthor must have hired a special team to steal the crystals off the freighter then transport them over to that facility for study and use them to power the solar panels for Space Station Lex.>

<This is a very dangerous game Lex is playing. He is a master manipulator, but eventually his machinations are going to get the better of him.>

<The only problem now, if I don’t discover who is running that special team. All efforts to locate the crystals on this side of the Atlantic through ‘business associates’ or through my solitary underworld contact have failed. There is not even a hint as to which underworld gang stole them. It seems the closer I get to locating the crystals the farther out of my grasp they become.>

Her mind shifted to the break-in as she entered the large industrial facility’s long tree-lined driveway to the main parking lot. Through the early morning, mist left by last night’s downpour she could see police lights flashing. As she drove the powerful sedan closer, she could see several people milling about; a LNN TV news camera crew, reporters, police and several LexSolar officials.

“Terrific,” she muttered aloud, “the media hounds are here already.” She slowed down to give the guard at the gate her LexCorp employee badge and said, “Aykira Milan to see Mr. Hackett, he is expecting me.”

The guard gestured to the crowd, “Mr. Hackett is over there talking with the police.”

The guard returned her badge and Aykira drove into the parking lot. As if on cue, the LNN reporter pointed excitedly toward Aykira’s car, deserted Security Chief Hackett, and started following the vehicle as Aykira parked. Before the administrative assistant could close her car door, a microphone that smelled like coffee and several cameras were shoved inches from her face. The LNN reporter, eager for a sound bite, and ignoring Aykira’s apparent discomfort, shouted questions.

Aykira, deeply offended by their unprofessional behavior, ignored the pack and strode purposefully towards the main entrance. She wondered if the reporter truly knew the level of power she wielded within LexCorp, especially since LNN was part of that organization.

Neil Hackett, LexSolar’s chief of security, ran over to stop the reporter’s harassment. “Get away from Ms. Milan!” he barked.

“Not to worry about me, Neil,” Aykira growled as more cameras appeared. The reporters acted like a swarm of hungry locusts, eager to devour any newsworthy item in their path. “Do not allow them access to the building.” Ignoring Aykira’s comment, the noisy throng moved as one following the duo toward the building’s main entrance.

The security chief swiped his cardkey into the slot and the two LexCorp employees anxiously pushed their way into the decorated lobby. Cheryl, the veteran receptionist, had not yet arrived. The hushed early morning quiet of the building was a welcome relief from outside’s chaos. The reporters, lacking a cardkey, could go no further.

<So much for the ‘graciousness’ of the Fourth Estate> Aykira thought. She kept her feelings of fuming indignity under wraps until they reached the plush and comfortably appointed conference room. On the table breakfast fare was laid out; orange juice, coffee, and freshly baked goods. Looking over the table askance, she noted the yogurt was missing. She could tolerate just about anything else, but being called out of bed at an ungodly hour to sit through a discussion about lapsed security on an empty stomach was the limit.

As the nervous security official closed the door behind them, she faced him and in a tightly controlled voice spoke. “Mr. Hackett, the level of security in this complex is a disgrace. Who permitted reporters free rein on our grounds?”

“They came in with the police. We couldn’t keep them out; it would have looked very suspicious. Besides LNN is a part of LexCorp.” He answered shrugging his shoulders. She could tell he fought hard to keep the aggravation out of his voice.

“Where are the rest of LexSolar’s security people?”

“Two of the guys are on vacation and one was out for medical leave.”

“When I arrive at headquarters later this morning, I expect a complete status report on the entire security staff, which I fully intend to turn over to Mr. Luthor for his perusal. But for now, I want to speak with those guards who allowed the thief to escape.” The volume of Aykira’s voice was low, but it had a very icy edge to it. “While we await their arrival, please call down to the cafeteria and tell them to send up either a yogurt or fruit smoothie.”

***

Security Chief Hackett, a former police detective only six months away from early retirement, was badly frightened. His six foot two-inch frame was taller than Aykira’s, but due to a tendency to slouch, his perceived appearance was shorter. He ran a vaguely trembling hand through his graying hair and wondered for the hundredth time that morning if Aykira was going to fire him on the spot. He had only met her on the few occasions that Lex Luthor visited the facility. She always preferred to remain surreptitiously in the background. Mr. Luthor had stressed on more than one occasion she was the one to contact during emergencies in case he was unreachable.

Despite his uncertainties, he preferred dealing with the lioness rather than the lion.

***

A short time later, Aykira, Chief Hackett and the two security guards were sitting in the conference room. The administrative assistant conducted a thorough, but tense, interview.

She observed both men, who could not be more opposite if they tried. Cliff was a tall over-fed mountain of a man, who at one time would have been a formidable physical specimen. Too many years of sitting watch TV at home and security monitors at work had stolen the firmness from his once powerful body. Sadly, the brain matched the sagging outward appearance. She could not help but smell the lightest whiff of alcohol coming off his body from perspiration.

“Like we were tellin’ ya, she was fast, real fast. Like an overgrown cat… took off down that staircase like greased lightning! Scared to get caught! Tall, with blonde hair… couldn’t get a good look at her face. The flashlights were knocked out of our hands when she struck us.” The guard glanced first to Aykira, then his boss, and asked, “Anybody eating that prune Danish?”

“The assailant attacked you?” Neil snapped incredulously. He couldn’t believe the man’s complete stupidity.

“Yeah,” Cliff responded while wolfing down the pastry. “Like I said - she had moves.”

Todd the other guard was built of sterner stuff, both literally and figuratively. Ignoring Hackett’s query, he addressed Ms. Milan. “While conducting our rounds I heard the sound of a printer operating in one of the offices on the third floor of east wing. As per protocol, we investigated each office. Third floor was clear. About ten minutes into our search of the second floor I heard feet running down the main stairwell. Cliff and I ran to the staircase door opened it and saw the assailant. We told her to halt. I warned her I would shoot. But the assailant continued running and when she reached the bottom of the stairwell she turned around and attacked us.”

Listening to the story was beginning to wear Aykira’s patience thin. She checked her watch, 7:30 a.m. Soon she needed to depart and make some kind of report to Lex. <That is if I can locate the elusive man!> Pulling her mind back to the task at hand, she listened while Hackett spoke condescendingly.

“Todd, I find it hard to believe anyone – especially a lone woman - could overpower you.”

“All I know is we got downstairs to the East exit. The assailant reached the floor, turned around and attacked both of us using the smoothest Tae Kwon Do moves this side of South Korea. There’s no shame to be flattened by a master of the art,” the security guard said with no small amount of respect. “She took my swipe keycard and tried to escape. That was when I pulled out my weapon and fired. She screamed and there was not a small amount of blood on the floor. I contacted the main desk and they turned on all the auxiliary lights to the parking lot.”

“Unauthorized shots were fired? Yet the intruder wasn’t apprehended?” Hackett shook his head with gloomy foreboding. So far, he was not impressed with these two. His mind was also occupied with what was going to happen to him and his retirement plans.

“Yes sir. I squeezed off three additional rounds in all as warning shots.” Todd responded crisply.

“According to the police’s preliminary report, blood stains were found not too far from the East entrance. Apparently, those ‘warning shots’ did not convince our thief to halt.” The security chief interjected. “I’ve had my assistant contact all the hospitals within a ten mile radius. If any woman matching that vague description appears, the MPD wants to know about it.”

Aykira, quite exasperated by the security chief’s posturing in an apparent bid to save his job, decided she needed to end this interview and get back to headquarters. “Mr. Hackett, I can assure you, anyone foolish enough to break-into this facility will have a back-up plan in case they are shot. Seeking treatment from a hospital is the very last thing they have on their minds.”

“It is part of protocol,” he muttered rather stiffly.

“My concern is the final objective of the thief. What could she possibly want?” Aykira asked the room at large.

At that moment, in the hallway, an angry male voice was heard and there was a sharp rap on the conference room door. Before Mr. Hackett could speak, a stocky powerfully built man burst in, followed by a tall, slightly balding man with a hawk nose. Aykira recognized both, a rather agitated Dr. Frederick Scott and the solar panel provisional team lead, Dr. George Amundsen.

Scott stood stiffly erect to compensate for his lack of height, and ignored the protestations of his immediate superior. The bland moon-shaped face with weighty eyelids and thick black eyebrows was flushed with anger. He turned to the security chief and snarled, “Hackett, you idiot! Why in the deep hell wasn’t I informed about this break-in? Our team’s research is the *key* reason for this facility’s existence! It demands better protection.” Looking with disapproval at Aykira he barked, “What’s *she* doing here? We only answer to Mr. Luthor himself, not some glorified secretary!”

For some unknown reason Aykira wanted to laugh. Dr. Scott’s pompous behavior was too much of a caricature to take him seriously. She decided to listen and give him enough rope to hang himself.

The two guards’ reactions to this outburst was somewhat mixed; Cliff sat back, watched the scene with some amusement, while his partner’s face reflected deep concern and not a little embarrassment. Todd was acquainted through the company grapevine with Aykira Milan’s abilities and could not imagine any LexCorp employee who knew the same, publicly belittling her presence in the conference room. Although she seldom spoke when accompanying Mr. Luthor, her reputation for efficiency and fairness were common knowledge at LexSolar. Dr. Scott’s reputation for arrogance was common knowledge as well, but this time he had gone too far.

“Huh, Frederick,” Hackett stammered, “Why don’t we talk later?”

“No dammit… now!”

Dr. Amundsen, angered at his colleague’s rude and egotistical behavior, said firmly. “Yes, Neil, we should probably discuss the matter now before the rest of the staff arrives.”

“Agreed.” Aykira interjected while staring at Dr. Scott. “Mr. Luthor will expect a full report. “In the meantime,” she gestured toward the guards. “These men can leave.”

“I haven’t questioned them!” Scott snarled. “Where did they find the thief?”

“For the time being they have been questioned enough and can return to their posts.” Neil responded with some alacrity.

When the two guards departed, the scientists sat down at the far end of the short wooden conference table. Aykira noted, not next to each other. She turned to Dr. Scott and spoke in a voice she rarely used, one of absolute authority. Under the circumstances, she needed to maintain complete control of this meeting before matters spilled out of her hands.

“Dr. Scott, allow me to clarify current matters for everyone in this room. Your genuine concerns about keeping the research and development findings within the company are much appreciated. At this instance, I speak for Mr. Luthor. As his Executive Administrative Assistant you will cooperate with me and the Chief of Security during this internal investigation… otherwise you can find other employment. Do I make myself clear?” Aykira hated strong-arming the man, but she needed to impress to all present her position and leverage within the company. As far as she was concerned, Scott was obstructing that purpose.

Mollified, the scientist stiffly nodded.

“Good. So far, a search by the police has availed nothing. Dr. Amundsen, is it common practice for members of your team to leave important work materials lying around? We are trying to ascertain the reason for the break-in.”

“No. As part of team protocol I secure all files pertaining to our research and materials related to the solar panels in a special safe...every day at close of business.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noted Dr. Scott stiffen. <Curious,> she thought, <He is hiding something. I need to look into that as soon as I leave here. But first, matters here need to be addressed.>

“Neil, hire additional security guards for this building. Not rent-a-cops this time, but former law enforcement officers and former black ops members. Tell Cliff he is on probation. Either he stops drinking and gets into fighting shape within three months or he’s fired. Todd is to be re-trained.”

“But he pulled a gun and nearly killed the assailant!” The Security Chief answered in protest.

“That is why he must be re-trained. He’s a good man and I suspect if he had a better partner, they might have captured the intruder.”

The meeting continued for another ten minutes. Aykira anxiously looked at her watch and decided it was time for her to return to Metropolis. The morning rush hour was going to be brutal. She thanked everyone and stood to depart the conference room.

“Well, I guess one good thing came out of this.” The Security Chief said with satisfaction. “At least that pesky reporter Lois Lane didn’t stick around early this morning. She probably would have found a way to break into our meeting.”

Aykira’s head shot up. “Lois Lane? What about her?”

“Oh, Todd mentioned she was there when the police showed up. Came out of the Conquistador’s parking lot and drove right up to the cops. One of them recognized her and said it just a false alarm. She drove off immediately after that.”

The administrative assistant’s heart faltered. She knew who had broken into LexSolar and why.

Part Eleven

Lois awoke, feeling slightly dizzy and drained. Her tongue was dry, with the consistency of sandpaper and it stuck to the roof of her month. It took a moment’s orientation to remember where she was and how she ended up sleeping in Clark’s bed.

“Urgh. I feel plain awful.” She groaned as she tried rubbing sleepy eyes with her left hand and was greeted to the sight of a sling and bandages.

“Meow?”

Lois jerked away quickly when she saw a furry body leap onto her side of the bed. Her arm throbbed painfully as the bandages and sling became tangled with the bed covers. “Pepper! Stupid cat! Go chase mice or whatever it is cats do!”

The little animal merely ignored her as it walked to the end of the bed laid down and went into ‘kitty sleep’ mode. Lois, feeling a bit foolish for yelling at the cat, got up and went to the bathroom. It took a few extra clumsy minutes working with only one arm, but immediately after washing up she felt immensely better.

It also took great effort to get into the set of old sweats Clark had laid out for her. She struggled to zip up the hoodie, and then rolled up both pants legs. Upon looking at her reflection in the mirror, she could not help but laugh at the tiny figure swallowed up by too-large clothes.

Lois wandered into the kitchen alcove, hoping desperately Clark had left some morning coffee. The carafe was half-full and still warm. <Thank you, Clark.> Lois thought, <I’ll never argue with you again.>

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the purloined papers from Dr. Scott’s computer lying on the counter. “Rats!” She said aloud, “We *are* going to argue. He won’t ignore the little stunt I pulled last night. Especially since all my efforts were washed away by a downpour.” However, her mind went back to the sweet, intimate moment she shared with Clark last night. Shaking fingers touched her lips as she remembered the ‘good night’ kiss. Was it her imagination or did she respond in kind?

She sighed gently, then said aloud, “That must have been my overactive imagination.” Yet in the recesses of her mind, she knew the kiss to have been real… all too real.

Taking the ruined papers in hand, Lois sat quietly on the couch, sipping her coffee, considering how the discussion between them would proceed. Despite her referring to Clark as an over-grown boy scout, she knew the protective attitude of the man from Kansas toward her was much more than that. Once the fireworks stopped over her indiscretion, maybe an honest open dialogue could be started about their relationship and what direction it was headed.

A dialogue she desperately wanted since before this whole Shackleton hijacking began and until last night had stalled. <There I go thinking about work again when I need to focus on Clark and me. Dr. Friskin is right; this avoidance tactic must stop. When he gets in from work this evening, we need to talk about *everything*.> Lois winced internally. <Maybe he won’t be too angry.>

From the far corner of the room came the sounds of insistent scratching. Searching for the source, she caught Pepper working desperately at Clark’s closet. The feline was determined to pry open the door.

“What’s the matter, puss? Looking for a mouse?”

“Meoow!” The cat wailed. His sleek body’s back muscles bunched up in a vain attempt to open the closet door.

“Honestly, you are the most contrary cat; first your chase me out of the bed, now you’re attacking Clark’s closet! Here, let me open the door so you can nose around to your heart’s content.”

Lois got off the couch and walked leisurely over to the closet. She tugged hard on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Pepper sat quietly on the wooden floor, cocked his head and watched his ‘substitute staff person’ struggle with the door. The reporter took note of the cat’s nonchalant attitude and said, “Well, if it’s not that important, I’m going back to my couch.” Before Lois could reach her seat, the little animal scratched at the closet door again, yowling for all he was worth.

“What is so important about this door, Pepper? Does Clark have a stash of kitty treats?” Lois wondered sarcastically. “OK puss, I’m trying one last time, if it doesn’t open and the yowling starts again… I see a balcony in your future!” Once again, she gave the door a tug, than realized with annoyance it was a sliding door. “There!” She said triumphantly, “it’s open!”

Pepper happily walked inside and began roaming around, content to be exploring a new space within the apartment. Lois listened to him scratching on the inside wall. She wondered what the furry little creature could be into now, when suddenly the groaning sound of ancient hinges swinging open was heard deep within the closet. The reporter’s curiosity was definitely piqued. <What’s back there?> she thought.

Dashing aside all consideration for Clark’s privacy, Lois pushed aside his crisp white oxfords, flannel shirts and neatly arranged suits. The groaning sound came from ancient hinges that revealed a hidden gap between the back of the closet and an unlit space. She nearly plunged into the deep, sheltered area and bumped head first into a well-known blue, red and yellow spandex costume.

Hanging neatly in the hidden space were three Superman suits.

Her mouth opened and closed twice. Speechless, her good hand felt the familiar spandex garment while a myriad of emotions flowed through her mind, crystallizing into one clear sharp thought. Her best friend of three years, her partner in journalism was the last son of Krypton – Superman. All those times he disappeared with the lamest excuses suddenly made perfect sense. Out of the blue, the jigsaw puzzle of her total relationship with him for the past three years suddenly snapped into place. As if to confirm this revelation, she heard Pepper knock something over and then Superman’s voice – albeit tinny – emanated from the closet.

{Clark Kent is a friend of mine. My uniforms were hanging in his closet because he was kind enough to clean them for me. I don’t have a washing machine or a place to hang my spare uniforms.}

By following the sounds, she reached up and saw a strange machine, which displayed a holographic image of the Man of Steel, his arms folded, floating in mid-air. He continued talking and once finishing the speech, took flight and vanished.

A shocked and much shaken Lois Lane gingerly removed both a suit and the holographic device from the closet. She deposited each item on the small table in the kitchen alcove as if they would render her more harm than any bullet. A combination of delayed shock from the wound, lingering aftereffects of the antibiotics and a poor night’s sleep caused her rubbery legs to weaken.

Slowly, overly cautious not to hit her arm, she sat down at the table and looked from one item to the other. This was far worse than discovering her printout sheets from previous night’s break-in were ruined. Her best friend, - the one person she trusted more than anyone on Earth - was *not* of this planet. Clark had deceived her utterly! How many lies had he told to cover up his secret? Weren’t they partners? Didn’t he trust her? How dare he keep her in the dark!!

His dear sweet parents, the Kents, had gone along with the charade. Martha, the mother she always wished she’d had, and solid, dependable Jonathan were just as guilty as their son was. Suddenly hot tears flowed down her face, as the enormity of the entire state of affairs weighed like granite upon her heart. Too weak to look for a tissue, Lois balled up the suit and held it tightly to her face, weeping bitterly.

***

A half hour later Clark walked into his apartment and began to call out to Lois. His eyes immediately riveted to where she was sitting. She was looking absolutely great wearing his old sweats and sitting at the kitchen table… watching the Superman hologram his mother had recently created. Martha Kent had left the device behind thinking her son might have need of it again someday. His jaw dropped in stunned realization of what was actually taking place.

<Oh boy,> Clark thought frantically. <She knows. What can I say to ease the pain?>

***

Lois, her face tear-stained, looked up at him angrily while holding his Superman suit in her good hand. Pepper sat quietly by the open closet door, contently licking his paw, ignoring the byplay between the humans.

<He looks so innocent and scared,> she thought, but angry resolve would not stop her next words. “You were holding out on me… partner.” Her voice was tired and hoarse from crying. In vain, she fought hard to keep the sobs from escaping her throat.

Clark ran down the short flight of steps and reached his partner’s side, placing a tender hand on her shoulder. “It’s not that simple Lois. I’ve hated keeping this from you, but the right time never seemed to present itself.” His voice was tinged with bitterness.

***

Once the meeting had broken up, Aykira quietly asked Dr. Amundsen to walk her to her car. “In case any of those reporters are still hanging around?” George asked in concern.

The two LexCorp employees walked freely down the same corridor that only three hours before Lois had moved with such stealth. Aykira felt uncomfortable asking this, but it was her job to cover all the bases. “No, hopefully the other security guards will have removed them from the grounds by now. Unfortunately, George, I have to make a request.”

“P…Please Ms. Milan, if there is anything I do. I want this situation cleared up as soon as possible so I can finish out my contract.”

“…and get married to Catherine Grant?”

Smiling in a happy lopsided way, the scientist responded. “Yes. Who told you?”

“Unfortunately; it is part of my job to know these things.” Aykira inhaled deeply, hesitated, than forged on, “In any case, it is your fiancé I am concerned about here. She is the gossip columnist for the Daily Planet. That could be very ‘problematic’ for LexCorp if the details of the break-in were made known to the public.”

George’s face took on a slightly reddish hue. His tall body swiftly transformed from quiet and attentive to taunt and ramrod straight with barely suppressed anger. “Ms. Milan, my professional life is professional, but my relationship with Miss Grant is most *definitely* private. Lack of privacy and life balance are some of the reasons *why* I’m leaving LexSolar after my contract ends in three months. I am pleased you have asked me to stay on as provisional team lead until the right person can be found for my position. You have nothing to fear. Ms. Grant won’t know the details about the break-in or the topic of this morning’s meeting.”

The two people continued walking through the large building in awkward silence. Several people acknowledged Dr. Amundsen in friendly greetings as they passed. He quietly responded in turn. <Obviously he was a man well respected by colleagues and underlings alike,> Aykira thought. She regretted speaking so bluntly to the scientist. But, sadly another aspect of her job was maintaining a proper public image. The company did not need to see its name negatively reported on in a gossip column.

“I apologize for mentioning this, George; it is the nature of our business.” She sighed softly, “Another matter I wish to point out. Be on your guard with Dr. Scott. The man is a loose cannon. I will see what I can do to get him off your back for the remainder of your time here.”

“Thank you. Any assistance in that area is much appreciated. No matter what he does, the man seems... protected.”

They reached the main lobby and Aykira signed out. She fully expected George to leave, but being a gentleman; he walked with her in companionable silence to her car. Thankfully, the media hounds had departed. After offering a slightly stiff farewell, he returned to the building.

<He is a good man. LexSolar will find a suitable replacement knowledge-wise. But as a genuinely caring person, it will be almost impossible.> Aykira started up the car and drove back to Metropolis her mind deep in thought.

***

“So *when* were you going to tell me?”

“It’s not that simple, Lois. I’ve hated keeping this from you, but the right time never came up.”

“The right time,” his partner countered, “was five minutes *after* you thought it was a bad time! I cannot believe you *and* your parents kept this from me. All of you were like another family to me.”

“I still am your friend, Clark Kent.” He said softly. His warm chocolate brown eyes held hers in a beseeching stare.

<Those eyes of his, are genuine, honest. Keeping such a huge secret inside has been agonizing for him. I’ll bet Martha and Jonathan were uncomfortable as well. They must have known how close we were drawing to each other. Even Martha admitted I’m family, not company.> Still, despite that happy memory, Lois refused to let him get off easily. “How can you say that? I don’t know you. Who are you, Clark or Superman? Where does one man end and the other one begin?”

***

<Here it is. Time to be completely honest with her and pray she understands.> “Lois, Superman is the personification of all the special things I can do. Clark Kent is who I am.” He said very quietly in a firm voice, which carried a hint of the Man of Steel’s persona.

The poor crestfallen woman stood up and walked toward the bedroom alcove. Clark trailed haplessly behind her. Stopping as she entered the bedroom. He said the first thing to enter his mind. “Are you going back to sleep?”

“Yes,” she sighed, “but not here. I need to think, to be in my own home. Wear my own sweats and sleep in my own bed. Right now, we are too close to each other. We *need* to talk, but later.”

“It’s okay. With your arm in a sling, it makes sense for me to drive you back.”

Clark watched as she turned and looked at him with those saddened beautiful brown eyes. “No. Could you call a taxi? It’s better this way.”

“Sure, Lois, anything you want,” he placed a consoling hand on her shoulder. “I hate to see you so upset. Are you hungry? I brought over some minestrone soup and cinnamon rolls from your Uncle Mike. He and Grace really liked the story.” <I have to keep her here. We have to work this out, our future depends on it.> Clark held up the white paper bag as if it was a peace offering. Her quiet response cut like a knife.

“N…no. I do need to eat, but not here.”

***

Lois turned and entered Clark’s bedroom. Originally, she wanted to change back into her pants and sweater; she looked at the damp and ruined garments, lying on a chair. The sweater was a lost cause and had to be discarded. The pants *might* survive the same fate with a trip to the dry cleaners. Her shoes were the only thing she could salvage of her clothes and even they were still soggy. Cautiously she put them on. They still felt *squelchy* from the previous night’s rain. Her anxiety to leave quickly forced Lois to roll the garments into a bundle and stuff them into the damp burglar bag. With a reluctant heart, she rejoined her partner in the living room.

***

“The cab should be here in a few minutes. Um, while you were sleeping last night I dried those papers you ‘acquired’ at LexSolar.”

“Yes, I saw them before, they are a mess.” Lois’ face brightened a little, but Clark noted, her voice was flat.

“Yeah, they were not readable…without a little special help.” This he said while tapping his glasses.

“I don’t understand.” She remarked, puzzlement on her face.

“My microscopic vision allows me to read the impressions on the paper made by the printer, something the naked human eye cannot perceive.”

“Oh, that’s a good thing,” Lois said, her interest increased. “What did you find?”

“All the logistics of the Shackleton theft; contact names of the men who got the mini-submersible and the ones who did the actual stealing!” The young man carefully studied his partner’s face to see if this bit of information might improve matters between them

“That’s fantastic!” He realized Lois’ reporter instincts had flown into overdrive. <Maybe this new information will get her to stay.> Suddenly the blaring sound of the cab’s horn was heard. <Oh great,> he grumbled internally. <Never a cab around when you need one, but now when I need a few more moments one shows up.>

***

“Um, I better leave. Get some rest. Then maybe you and I can talk about, you know.” She made a flying motion with her good arm. “I’ll get these back to you.” She indicated the sweats.

“Sure Lois, I’ll check on you… tonight?”

“No. Maybe tomorrow; I… I need some time for all this to sink in.” She was thinking, <We really need to talk, but not right now. If I don’t leave soon, I’ll start crying all over again.>

***

Clark approached a clearly mentally and emotionally exhausted Lois and cupped her delicate face with his hands. He whispered tenderly, his deep voice rumbling quietly in her ears. “I never wanted to hurt you, don’t ever forget that.” Than bent down and kissed her tenderly on her soft, full lips.

They parted slowly, so much was said with that kiss, but so much more was left unspoken. The beautiful brown-haired woman stared intensely into his passionate eyes, her own swimming with tears. She nodded once, gingerly picked up her bag, huddled it close and walked out of his apartment.

As the door closed soundlessly behind her, Clark Kent felt more solitary and isolated than he had ever been. His body, although invincible to harm, felt tense and drawn out from the chaotic anxiety of the preceding half hour. All his dreams of a complete life in Metropolis and on this planet had suddenly taken an appalling abysmal shift.

He wondered if he and Lois could become two people learning how to be in love without all these complications. Walking over to the fridge, he put the soup inside, wishing Lois had stayed to share it with him.

***

Lois let herself into the apartment with no small amount of difficulty. Juggling a bag made heavy from water and damp clothes with one hand while using the keys to open multiple locks took more lock picking skills than usual. Right now, she could surely use Clark’s help.

“No! I am not going to let his name linger in my mind like a bad cold!” She walked over to her bedroom, grateful for the reassurance of soothing, familiar surroundings. The fish happily swam, unaware of the ordeal their owner had gone through the previous evening. The uncomfortable settees stiffly awaited her attention, ready to ‘bruise her butt’ yet again.

Lois strode into the bedroom, placed the black bag on a chair, and then slowly removed the sodden garments from the burglar bag. With a pang of regret, the black sweater was thrown into the trash and the pants placed in her large blue dry cleaner’s bag. She sighed. “That sweater and I have done a lot of ‘breaking and entering’.” It reminded her of the old Stephen Katz song about a faded flannel shirt. So many memories were wrapped up in the old garment to be lovingly cherished.

As Lois prepared for a hot shower, she began to feel very tired and her arm ached. <The drugs must really be wearing off now.> She thought. Upon completing her ablutions, she crawled under the welcoming covers and drifted into an apprehensive and restless sleep.

Part Twelve

Aykira arrived at the LexCorp building a little after 9:30; considering the traffic from LIP she made great time. Entering her office suite, she said to Jane. “Have you heard anything from Mr. Luthor?”

“No. He hasn’t contacted me or left any information regarding his whereabouts.”

Aykira was now well and truly concerned. Lex’s calendar and personal schedule was her domain and she never failed to keep it updated. Perhaps he was doing something he did not want her to know about. Perhaps there was a new woman in his life? Another business deal? No, there had to be more to his disappearance than that. Whatever Lex was up to, and despite their recent falling out, he always let her know his whereabouts.

“If Mr. Luthor does call I will be in my office,” Aykira said. “Can you hold all my calls, except his, for the next thirty minutes?”

“No problem.” Jane hesitated, than spoke her next words circumspectly. “Aykira, do you mind if I ask a personal question?”

Wary, as to the request, Aykira nodded her head slowly.

“Ever since the day of the *grand* breakfast with Mr. Luthor your relationship with him has ‘changed’. Is there anything wrong?”

Aykira also weighed her words. Jane Winley had been with LexCorp for a long time and had survived a number of office intrigues, especially during the short tumultuous period when Angelica Cox was Lex’s assistant. Still she had proven herself a loyal assistant and even a… friend. A truthful answer - of a sort - was the best response.

“We have had a… difference of opinion, but it will be resolved soon.”

“Good, because I would hate to see you leave. He might hire Mrs. Cox again.” Jane barely suppressed a shudder.

“Oh, I can definitely assure you, Mrs. Cox will never return to LexCorp in *any* capacity.”

The other woman watched Aykira with a curious expression on her face. Then Jane decided it was time to be an assistant again. “Okay. Well then, I’d best get back to work. This report won’t type itself.”

Aykira left Jane to her tasks and entered her office suite. She immediately went to the desk and picked up the phone.

“IT department. I need to speak with Radames Perez, please tell him to contact Aykira Milan as soon as he arrives. Yes. Thank you.”

Radames was the best IT hacker within LexCorp… but Aykira jealously guarded that secret. She reserved him as an asset to help track down unorthodox computer use within LexCorp. Despite her considerable computer skills, Radames had an adept cleverness that far exceeded her own. Ever since she found out about the crystals theft, she had him monitor all executive computer users to discover if they were mentioned by anyone within LexCorp in general. Now he needed to narrow the search to LexSolar alone. She had an idea who was responsible for the crystal’s theft but she needed proof.

The phone rang and she snatched up the receiver. “Ms. Milan here,” she answered.

“What happened?” Radames replied. “Did the ‘item’ show up?”

“No, but I have a definite direction to point to now. Could you please check printer output on the East wing’s third floor of LexSolar? The time sequence is from 3:00am to 5:00am this morning. Don’t bother with the administrative assistant’s printers…concentrate on the scientists. Find out what files were printed and its contents.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know ‘kira, that’s a restricted area. What if I get caught? It’s one thing to monitor LexCorp executive ‘traffic’, it’s another to hack into our own system.”

“If anyone asks questions, tell them you are working on a special project for me.” She allowed him to hear a smile in her voice. “Besides, consider it a challenge, after all, you are this company’s ‘Prince of Hackers’.”

“Yeah, yeah. What are you trying to do? Flatter me into the job? For you, ‘Kira, no problem.”

“Thank you… I think,” she said with a light chuckle. “Please keep me informed of your progress. As soon as the file is located e-mail it over to my office.”

There was a slight pause then Radames spoke in a cautious tone. “No, I don’t think that’s wise. I’ll get the material to you, but not electronically.”

“Oh? Why is that?” she asked.

“Let’s just say, taking these kinds of precautions has helped me *earn* and *keep* the ‘Prince of Hackers’ title.”

“Very well Radames. Do whatever is necessary… but do not get caught.”

“Who… me? Not gonna happen. Talk with you soon.”

They ended their conversation and Aykira turned her attention to the more mundane aspects of her job. The foremost being a report regarding all that had occurred at LexSolar the previous evening, her interview with the guards and discussion with Neil Hackett as well as her recommendations.

***

An hour after Aykira had arrived at her office. Lex Luthor stepped off his private elevator and walked with confident strides into his luxurious office. The early appointment this morning at Dr. Kassaten, the neurologist, had gone without a problem. He was confident that a routine series of MRI tests would reveal what he already suspected - that the headaches were stress related. Perhaps a quick vacation to the Greek island of Santorini and time spent at the Stone Villa would do the trick, a little Boutari Santorini wine and sunshine. Possibly some female companionship if Aykira was unwilling to spend time with him?

Aykira.

No. Through a few badly chosen words, he had wrecked their out-of-office relationship. Any other woman’s presence would only remind him of what he, for the moment, had lost. Greece would have to wait until he could soften her heart and rebuild their friendship. So far, all attempts had failed, but he refused to admit defeat. She was the perfect woman for him. He knew she felt the same. A kiss like the one they shared – with all its intensity of emotion - could not be faked.

He continued walking over to his desk and saw his message light blinking. He checked the first message and noticed the time stamp. 4:30am.

The nervous voice of LexSolar’s security chief came over the line. <<Ah…Mr. Luthor, this is Neil Hackett, sir. There’s been a break-in. We’ve contacted the police and since we cannot reach you. I’m calling Ms. Milan.>> The connection broke.

Angry, but keeping it under strict control. Lex barked into his intercom for Aykira.

Within moments, she entered the office suite, looking as lovely as ever, wearing a simple black pantsuit. As she approached him, his nostrils filled with the floral notes of a familiar scent. <Ah, that woman knows how to mesmerize me!> Leaning against the heavy antique wooden desk, he put those thoughts aside and spoke to her perhaps a little too sharply.

“What’s the status of LexSolar after last night’s break-in? Was anything stolen? Why wasn’t I informed?”

His assistant arched her eyebrow and began speaking. “Check your inbox for an e-mail summarizing the situation. The LexSolar administrative assistants on Dr. Amundsen’s team are going through their most current hard files, so far nothing was taken. Our IT department is checking for recent downloads or copies of any files during the time of the break-in.”

She paused for a second than said coolly, “You were not informed because no one could find you.”

Caught off guard, Lex answered cautiously. “Well… that is quite true. I…I did not wish to be found.”

He watched as her body stiffened and prepared to confront him. Maintaining his calendar was a matter of personal pride for Aykira. Nevertheless, she surprised him with her lack of petulance. “Mr. Luthor, where you go during off hours is naturally your personal affair, but LexSolar’s research and development of the solar panels is at a critical juncture. Corporate espionage could ruin everything the team has strived for.”

“Brilliant deduction as always, Ms. Milan. I will read your report, which I trust will have its usual painstaking attention to detail.”

“Lex, perhaps I am overstepping my bounds… may I ask where you were earlier?”

“Yes, I apologize for disappearing this morning, but there were personal matters which required my immediate attention.”

“Personal matters?” Aykira asked.

He moved away from the desk and waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “Nothing to concern yourself with Ms. Milan, after all, what I do in my off hours *is* my personal affair.”

“Yes.” She responded stiffly. “If there is nothing else…?”

“No. That will be all. By the way, please handle everything on my business calendar today. I will be in conference calls until early evening and do not wish to be disturbed.”

Lex watched her. She was about to speak, but thought better of it. Instead, she turned and quietly departed the office suite.

***

While walking down the stairs, Aykira mentally checked Luthor’s calendar and realized he had not advised her of his recent schedule changes. She wondered briefly if her effectiveness here was at an end. <Nonsense! If Radames can discover whose printer was working early this morning I will be that much closer to discovering who stole those crystals. Lex is experiencing a bad day.>

Energized with determination, Aykira returned to her office suite and the many workday tasks ahead. There was one in particular which needed immediate attention. Upon reaching her office, she contacted LexSolar.

“Good Morning, you have reached LexSolar. Cheryl speaking, where shall I direct this call?”

“Hello Cheryl, this is Aykira Milan. Could you please put me through to Todd Stockwell in Security?”

Aykira heard the quick intake of breath and the receptionist’s voice became slightly flustered. “Oh, Ms. Milan! I didn’t realize it was you. Please hold on.”

Seconds later, she heard the quiet, measured tones of the guard’s voice.

“What may I do for you Ms. Milan?”

“A simple task really. Tell me, have the police gone and was the blood cleaned up?”

“Yes. Metro PD left shortly after you did. I have the area on monitor now. It is scheduled for cleaning later this morning.”

“Good. Are you familiar with the procedures required to collect a sample for DNA testing?”

“Yes Ma’am. I take it you want me to gather a sample of the assailant’s blood for testing later without police interference? Do you have someone in mind to make the match?”

Aykira smiled to herself. This man was definitely smarter than he looked and bore watching.

“Yes Mr. Stockwell, that’s exactly what I want. It is best we keep the DNA test in case it is needed. Can you accomplish this task without Mr. Hackett finding out?”

“Ma’am, I do not believe that will be a problem.”

“Perfect. Have the sample tested before the blood begins to degrade and bring the results to me personally.”

“As you wish, Ms. Milan. Thank you for placing your trust in me. I am sure we will catch the thief.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stockwell, with your diligent care that is entirely possible.” Aykira broke the connection.

***

Late in the afternoon, Clark tucked a pencil behind his ear and took a break from writing a filler piece on Hobbs Bay. Unwittingly he began daydreaming about Lois, thinking of different and better ways to reveal his secret identity rather than her stumbling upon it. He was deeply concerned that her rather unexpected discovery might end their relationship. The secret he had held so closely was to protect himself and his parents, not for the media to exploit.

He chided himself; a big story exposing everything about Superman might have been Lois’ goal when he first came on the scene. But she had changed. She respected the superhero’s privacy and now that she knew his secret, Clark was certain she could not write anything that might harm himself or his parents.

“Ah…excuse me, Clark,” Perry said sarcastically. “But we’ll never get this paper out by deadline if your Hobbs Bay piece isn’t finished and in my computer within the next ten minutes.”

“What? Oh, sorry, chief.” Clark took the pencil from behind his ear and began working on his article.

“Don’t worry son, I know your mind’s elsewhere. Have you spoken to her?” The gruff older man asked, barely concealing his concern.

“No, she really needed to rest. Her arm was hurting.”

Perry nodded gave a quiet knowing smile then said, “Okay. When you call, give her my love… but *after* that story hits my inbox.”

Clark bent to the task of completing the piece, taking care not to type so fast the keyboard might overheat. He experienced a sense of accomplishment as soon as he sent the story over to Perry’s inbox with five minutes to spare. Immediately afterwards, he picked up the phone to call Lois and see how she was doing.

“Afternoon, Lois, it’s me.”

“Oh… hello Clark,” her voice sounded small and quiet. ”How are things going at the Planet? Pete Ross left here just a few minutes ago. He wanted to see the ‘patient’ and drop off my medicine. I appreciate him coming here and checking on his handiwork. Thank him again for me please.”

“Don’t worry, I will. Pete is a good guy, and a dedicated surgeon. Healing people is what he does, I told you he would be discreet.” Switching to another subject, he continued, “Oh, everyone here says hello… even Cat.”

“Wow. That’s surprising, especially considering how engrossed she’s been with wedding plans.”

Clark could not help but smile, Cat really was taking a *lot* of work time to plan her wedding. Originally, she had intended on a splashy celebrity packed show in one of the large churches downtown, but the groom had stepped in and the celebrity style arrangements toned down considerably. The guest list was trimmed from 400 to 125 and the location for both ceremony and reception changed to the Farragut Hotel, well known to many of Metropolis’ leading citizens.

“She really isn’t such a bad person once you get to know her.” He hesitated for a moment and then said. “Um… Lois can I come over this evening and talk about you know… “

She made a sharp intake of breath before responding. “Clark, I meant what I said about taking some time to wrap my mind around this whole thing. Besides, I won’t be alone tonight... ”

“I see… “His heartbeat faltered slightly and he was about to end the conversation, when he heard her say.

“… yeah, Uncle Mike is bringing dinner.”

Clark immediately brightened and it poured into his voice. “Hey, that’s great! I am very envious. What culinary masterpiece is he cooking?”

“He didn’t say. It’s supposed to be a surprise. I don’t care, as long as there’s chocolate.” She laughed.

“Lois, it’s great to hear laughter from you. Work isn’t the same without ‘Mad Dog’ Lane.”

“Ha! You don’t have anyone’s copy to edit… or coffee to get.” This last comment lacked the usual sarcastic ‘Mad Dog' tone and was spoken very quietly.

The silence deepened between them, but, before it became unbearable, Lois chimed in, “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Pete says in a couple of days my arm comes out of the sling. Come over for dinner on Friday night two evenings from now – we can talk.”

“That sounds great. Maybe we could play a round of chess?”

“You are on, Farmboy. Prepare to be soundly beaten.” She laughed again.

“Right, in your dreams Lane,” then he whispered gently. “Good-bye Lois.”

“Good-bye Clark. The receivers were simultaneously replaced in their cradles.

Part Thirteen

“Uncle Mike, you want me to cook… with my arm in a sling?”

“Hey, if you can cook in that condition, imagine how great the food’s gonna be with two hands?”

“But I thought you were *bringing* dinner? Or at least cooking it!”

“Yeah, but it’s not cooked. Let’s get started. Here’s all the ingredients for zucchini with tri-color penne in a cream sauce with roasted leftover chicken. Just the meal for a single gal. It’ll be great.” He pulled out a large plastic container with a grin on his face and held it out to her. “Don’t worry, pumpkin, as a reward for all your hard work…vanilla Bundt cake with Swiss chocolate frosting.”

Lois rolled her eyes in happy anticipation. “Yummy!” Suddenly, she realized what he was up to. “Uncle Mike, why are you making me cook? I thought I was your favorite niece?” Lois asked petulantly.

“You are! So now, I’m going to do you a favor and teach basic survival cooking skills. Clark shouldn’t be the only one doing the cooking in this relationship.”

Straight away on the defensive, Lois grimaced then snapped, “What makes you mention Clark?”

He looked over at his niece, mischief dancing in his eyes. “First, we cook. Then we eat. After that we talk.”

In time-honored careful chef-trained manner, Mike laid out all the ingredients in sections for each dish. He rummaged through Lois’ pantry and cabinets to find less than half of the items he needed. “How, do you survive in this kitchen? Your Grandmother, bless her heart, would have been ashamed.” Not waiting for an answer, he began to improvise with the few kitchen tools Lois did have available.

“How am I supposed to cut veggies with one hand?” She asked caustically.

“I knew a guy who can gut a fish beautifully with only one hand. Just use the fingers to hold the zucchini and red peppers, let me do the onions and garlic.”

He handed Lois a knife and had her rather clumsily chop the zucchini and slice the red peppers. The whole operation was thumb-fingered and slow, but she managed to get it done without cutting herself. Through it all, Lois muttered darkly about being untalented cooking wise, and the food was going to taste terrible.

“Your Aunt Rita said the same things when we started dating. Only she wasn’t so polite! That woman – God rest her soul - couldn’t tell a chicken from a goose! But pumpkin, as the years passed and we grew closer, cooking became our passion and helped us through some really tough times.” The older man grew solemnly quiet as he watched Lois sauté the mixture of zucchini, red peppers and onions. “Rita was an excellent cook, but most important of all, she was my best friend.” He was silent again, but it was better this time. Happy memories raced through his mind, memories that made the older man smile contently to himself.

***

“Mom, let me get that.”

“No, you go help your father in the barn; he’s messing around with that smelly old tractor. This spring weather is really cooperating and he wants to be ready to plow as soon as possible. Dinner will be on the table in twenty minutes.” Martha finished taking the baked chicken out of the oven and proceeded to baste it.

“Okay.”

Clark walked out to the old barn. He loved coming to Smallville in the early evening when the sights and scents of the Earth were preparing to burst into a riot of summer colors. He listened as two squirrels scampered around the front of the barn. The small animals happily played with one another, as only the young can. Further out in the field, the sound of cows lowing for their calves reached his ears. Visiting his parents’ home and being an active part of the farm was a welcome change from city life.

Meeting Jonathan in the barn, the two men began replacement work on the spark plugs and were deeply engrossed in the project when they heard Martha’s voice calling them for dinner.

Quickly they made their way to the farmhouse and washed up at the kitchen sink. The aromas of fresh baked biscuits and Martha’s apple pie lingered in the air. This was the heart of the Kent home. No matter how many places Clark had traveled and explored, no matter how many adventures Superman experienced, the farm would always be home. A place of refuge from the busy world of newspaper deadlines, corrupt individuals bent on revenge, and a certain female journalist who held his heart and now his greatest secret.

The family sat around the table discussing events of the day, with comfort and ease. Such matters as Maisie’s adding new low fat meals to the diner’s menu and Wayne Irig’s son finally deciding to settle down in Smallville were grist for the mill. Still a sense of expectation hung over the family gathering. Clark knew his parents waited patiently for him to tell them what was on his mind.

While buttering a hot flaky biscuit, Clark began to recount the events of the day starting with Lois’ dramatic arrival at his front door.

Jonathan, clearly alarmed said, “Gunshot wounds, even grazes like the one Lois experienced, can be particularly nasty.” Turning to his wife he said, “Martha, remember how bad Wayne looked when I brought him to the hospital after he was accidently shot while hunting?”

“Clark, it was awful. The blood was everywhere!” Martha shuddered at the memory.

The younger man nodded remembering, the event took place right after the whole Bureau 39 debacle. He could not fly home to visit Wayne; it would have looked too suspicious. Sending flowers and a promise to help around the Irig farm a few weeks later was the best he could do.

“Well, at least Pete Ross was able to come and take care of her.” Clark paused for a moment and launched into the rest of the story, knowing it would frighten and concern his parents.

“Lois knows,” Jonathan, whispered his face took on a thoughtful, worried expression.

“Oh dear,” Martha breathed. “How did she take the news?”

Clark rubbed the back of his neck. “Not well. Which I guess ought to be expected, considering she found out purely by accident. She insisted on going home and taking some time to think about the whole situation. I wanted to talk, get everything out in the open. Unfortunately there was nothing I could do to stop her. But thankfully this evening, she’s not alone. Uncle Mike brought over one of his special dinners.”

***

“I don’t believe it! You blew up the mess tent?” Lois’ belly laugh rang throughout the apartment.

Mike, a big grin on his face, was laughing just as loud. “Yeah well, that’s what happens when attempting to improve a perfectly decent moonshine recipe. Don’t worry! I haven’t bothered with a still since!”

“I should hope not! Aunt Rita would’ve laced into you with both barrels! Daddy never told me that story.”

“Ah, your Dad… he has his faults, but when it comes to *that* kind of fun, he’s a little stiff.”

“Yeah, well I can’t imagine Mother being happy when she discovered her favorite soup pot was full of holes!”

That mischievous twinkle light up his eyes again, “Well now, Aunt Rita got into a scrape or two in her younger days. It’s not common knowledge within the family, but she worked undercover in Moscow during the Cold War. She took lots of dangerous chances – just like you do today.”

Lois took a sip of soothing oolong tea and nearly spilled it when she heard those words. “Aunt Rita?” An image of an energetic, petite red-haired woman came to mind. Someone who was a Den Mother for the local Cub Scout troop and painted scenery for the community theatre group? This same sweet, gentle woman was a spy?

“Yup, that’s how we met. But that’s a story for another time. One of these days, I’ll give you her journals. They’re pretty lively reading.” His voice trailed off to another place and time. A special time and place where Lois could never hope or even consider following. As if to dispel the mood, Mike quickly roused himself from the table and started collecting the dinner dishes. “You did good tonight, nothing was overcooked, and the curtains are fine. Keep it up and pretty soon cooking is gonna be easy.”

“Yeah, right. I can only ‘cook’ when either you or Clark is around.” As soon as his name escaped her lips she regretted it.

“Clark huh?” I’m surprised he’s not here looking after you himself. I have to admit, getting your phone call this afternoon caught me off guard.”

Lois winced internally. How could she discuss her rather unique relationship with Clark to Uncle Mike? Especially since she could never ever reveal the secret about Clark, the one she now shared. Yet, Mike was a perceptive man; he was not blind to the deep friendship between them and must have figured out a particularly thorny problem had recently arisen.

“Ah, we had a difference of opinion.” She said with a sigh.

“Is that how you ended up with your arm in a sling?” Mike asked innocently.

“What? No!” Lois began to get angry. “Clark would *never* hurt me!”

“I *know* that,” her uncle responded with no heat in his voice. He began running hot water into the sink and added soap for the dishes. “But neither can he stop you from taking foolish chances. He wants what is best for you, but you have to quit pushing him away and stop taking unnecessary risks. Sometimes in a relationship, we have to sacrifice some of what we want in order to preserve the whole. Your aunt knew that only too well. She left the service before we got married and never looked back.”

“Taking risks is what I do… it’s how I get the job done. What do you want me to do? Give up working at the Daily Planet?” Lois answered simply.

“No. I’m not saying you gotta go that far! Can you tone down the ‘jumping in the deep end of the pool’ bit for Clark? How important is your relationship with him?”

***

“Mike’s a good man. If she isn’t with you, family is the next best thing.” Jonathan said quietly.

“Oh, but honey, you two really need to talk. Maybe her finding out is a good thing. With Superman finally out in the open, the relationship you always wanted with her can now become a reality.”

He looked up at his mother, a pained expression stamped on his face, “Can it Mom? Until recently, she fawned over Superman and barely paid any attention to me. How can I be sure it’s me she *really* wants?”

“Son, I have seen the way you are with each other. That can’t be faked. The care and commitment to you is there, she just needs to realize it.”

“Dad, I hope you’re right. She means everything to me.”

***

“He means everything to me,” she whispered.

“This is no surprise. You’re an investigative reporter. Takin’ chances is all part of the job. Having a real loving relationship is all about takin’ chances. Give it a try, he’s worth it.”

“Are you saying that because of the piece he did on Grace’s shop?” Lois asked suspiciously.

“Nope, I’m saying it because I’ve been watching you two together for a couple of years now and it’s obvious to everyone but you what *his* feelings are. Okay, enough with the lonely hearts stuff.” Mike had finished drying the dishes. He walked over to the settee, picked up his jacket, and prepared to leave. “Now, what time should I come back for your next lesson?”

“How about Monday night, same time?”

“Yeah, that ought to work. Mondays are pretty quiet at the restaurant. Hey, this might make a good item for your paper! ‘Learning how to Cook’ by Lois Lane.”

Lois cringed. “Not on your life, Unc!”

Mike Lane kissed his niece on her cheek, opened the door and let himself out. <Maybe one of these days, I’ll say something to her about my feelings for Grace…>

***

“Bye honey, make sure Lois gets at least one of those brownies!”

“I’ll hold off eating them as long as I can, Mom.” He chuckled upon seeing the amused look on her face. He bent down to gently hug his mother good-bye. Clark turned and shook his father’s hand, then their son spun into the suit and soared into the late night starry Kansas sky.

***

The next day at the Daily Planet was ‘quiet’ and uneventful as could be in the newsroom of an internationally known newspaper. Its inhabitants were working hard to complete their assignments for the evening edition. Jimmy, locked in the darkroom, was working on developing shots for Diane’s story about the proposed urban renewal of Suicide Slum by LexCorp. She had taken over the story from Eduardo because the latter had to go to Budapest to cover a political expose. Jack was getting up to speed on some new hacking techniques Jimmy had shown him the previous evening. Even Cat spent all of her time locating juicy tidbits to be included in ‘Cat’s Corner’ and not her upcoming wedding.

Perry was in his office listening to a recording of Elvis’ Hawaii concert, ready to pounce, if anyone was slacking at his or her assignment.

Ralph, as it happened, was the only member of the bullpen’s staff not working on an assignment. He oiled his way over to Clark’s desk, perched his hip on the edge and started probing him with questions.

“So Kent, since your partner isn’t here, why don’t we have a little chat?”

Clark sat at his desk, editing his follow-up article on the earthquake tremors in California last week. He looked around and was acutely aware of Lois’ absence. Right now, he should be leaning over her shoulder editing *her* copy or getting a low-fat mocha latte for her from Java Perk rather than listening to Ralph’s banal comments. She was still healing both physically and mentally. He felt sad about the former and deeply responsible for the latter.

Looking up from his copy the younger man said, “We have nothing to talk about.” To emphasize the conversation was over, Clark turned back to the keyboard.

“Oh, but we do.” The obsequious man responded. “Where did you and the little cutie get that information about the Shackleton hijacking?”

Clark wasn’t sure if it was the ‘cutie’ comment or the ugly tone of Ralph's voice but his normally mild persona vanished as he stood up, looked down at the shorter man and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Look Ralph, I don’t know what your game is, but my partner and I do *not* share our sources with you. Oh and her name is Lois Lane - not ‘cutie’.”

“Okay!” Ralph backed up with his hands flying in the air. “Boy, you are really touchy these days! Must be missing your little playmate!” With that parting shot, he returned to his desk.

The rest of the bullpen staff hurried back to their regular tasks. Most of them were more than happy to pretend the entire scene had not taken place.

Settling back into writing the story, Clark put Ralph out of his mind. Within moments it drifted back to his partner. Lois had mentioned he could come over when Pete officially removed the sling, but that wasn’t until later that week. Clark grudgingly admitted to himself waiting for this particular *get together* was not going to be easy. Suddenly, his ears tingled with the distinct cries for help. Swiftly he departed for the staircase leading to the roof and this latest rescue.

In Perry’s office, the senior editor had taken note of the exchange and determined in his mind to find a way to rid the bullpen of Ralph’s irritating presence.

***

The emergency rescue, an explosion onboard an Alaskan oil tanker coming into Hobbs Bay, took the remainder of the afternoon and the better part of that night. When Clark arrived on the balcony, the suit was slick with oil, grease and lots of mud. The tremendous physical activity pushed his body to the limit and hence he experienced no small amount of fatigue. Grateful to be home, he carefully removed the messy suit, took a speedy shower and planned on writing up the tanker story after preparing a tuna fish sandwich for dinner. Normally he would prepare something a little more substantial to eat, but tonight he wanted something light. Perry wouldn’t be too happy missing out on such a headline grabbing article.

“Meow?” The famished feline sat by his food dish and looked up at him expectantly.

“Oops! Sorry Pepper, it’s way past your dinnertime.” Clark reached into a cabinet for a box of Whiskers cat food. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long.”

The feline happily dived into his bowl, ignoring Clark’s soothing words as he enjoyed his late meal.

Clark looked down at the little animal and wondered if he should contact Mrs. Harper’s relatives and have them look after him. It was unfair to keep Pepper when his hours were so erratic, although he had grown attached to the friendly cat. As if hearing Clark’s thoughts, Pepper looked up, slinked over to him, and affectionately rubbed against his legs. He knelt down and proceeded to scratch Pepper behind the ears. “Oh, so *now* you want to show me some attention?”

“Meow!” The little animal in his own way was trying to tell Clark how he felt.

“Hmmm, since you’re content with my ‘other’ life, you can stay as long as Mrs. Harper is out of town.”

Pepper responded with a loud, contented purring sound. Then in a surprise move, he happily jumped into Clark’s arms and gently butted him on the head. “Hey!” Clark laughed, “You’re welcome!”

Unexpectedly the phone rang; Clark stepped out of the kitchen alcove, deposited Pepper on the couch, then picked up the receiver.

“Clark… it’s Lois, are you all right?” Her voice was full of concern.

A blossoming sense of delight went through his heart. “Lois! To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

“I saw on LNN about the super oil tanker. That was a huge fire!”

“I’m fine. There were several injuries and a few crewmen suffered minor burns. Fortunately between me and the Coast Guard everyone got off the ship safely. With very careful use of my heat vision I was able to keep a large quantity of oil from spilling into Hobbs Bay. Believe me, sealing off an outsized tear below the waterline of a supertanker without igniting the oil *inside* is no easy job!”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Lois responded her mind going into journalist mode. “But the real question, partner, is what caused the opening in the first place?”

“Funny you should mention that. I spoke with some of the crewmembers and they think…” Clark launched enthusiastically into an in-depth conversation with Lois. After several minutes of back and forth speculation on the apparent cause of the freighter’s dilemma, Clark realized the body and texture of his next Daily Planet article was taking shape. He told Lois to hold her thoughts while he grabbed his laptop and started typing up the first draft.

Within a very short time, between her input and his perfect recall of the rescue and discussions with the crewmembers, Clark completed the story and sent it to Perry’s inbox.

“The chief should be happy, that article will be ready for the morning edition. The only thing missing is a great set of pix from Jimmy. Oh, the byline will read Clark Kent and Lois Lane.”

“What, you don’t have to do that, we were just talking!” Lois said.

“After your comment yesterday, maybe it is *your* turn to edit my copy for a change! Another reason why our partnership works, Miss Lane,” he teased.

“Ha! That definitely explains how all the exclusive Superman stories fell into the lap of a certain mild-mannered reporter. I wish I had known that before…” suddenly Lois’ voice got quiet and small.

“Hey, are you all right?” Clark asked anxiously.

“Yeah,” she was silent for a moment, than spoke, a catch in her voice. “Remember the crane accident on Nordell Street a week or so ago?

“Sure. A very close save, the crane could have killed dozens of workers and bystanders. What about it?”

“You came back from the rescue with *another* Superman exclusive. It really got my competitiveness going full tilt. Despite my apology and everything, I made plans that day to break into LexSolar and find out the whereabouts of those crystals!”

“Oh, Lois!” He groaned, shaking his head.

“Yes, and now all I have to show for my efforts is a bunch of ink stained papers, a near brush with the police, what will be an interesting scar on my arm that I can never tell the truth about and… and straining my friendship with you.” Her babble ended with a sob.

Alarmed, Clark wanted to rush over to her home, but first he spoke, very slowly. Lois, it’s okay. Let me come over… if you want me to?”

If it were not for his super-hearing, Clark would not have heard the tiny voice on the other end say, “Yes.”

Within seconds, he floated through her window and landed gently on the floor next to one of the cream-colored settees. Lois lay on the uncomfortable piece of furniture, wearing black baggy sweatpants and a green flannel shirt he recognized as his own. Her head was down, shoulders shaking, crying on a pillow; the phone lay forgotten on the floor.

Clark knelt down beside her, putting his hand on trembling shoulders. The Man of Steel spoke most tenderly, “Lois, look up, it’s me.”

Lifting her head, the brunette’s luscious hair was tousled around her face. Tracks of tears stained flushed cheeks. He cupped the beloved face in his hand, then pulled her still trembling body toward him and enfolded her within strong supportive arms. The couple sat together, he giving comfort, succor, and she accepting it without resistance.

After a few moments, Clark pulled away from their embrace, pushed her hair back and asked, “How about I make us some tea?”

“I… I ran out,” she whispered.

Clark smiled and held up a bag. “Remember, I used to be a boy scout. Besides I promised Mom you could have at least one of her special brownies.”

She attempted a wan smile herself to lighten the mood. “’Used to be’, Farmboy?”

“Let me change out of the suit, than we can have two steaming cups of oolong tea.”

A few moments later, Clark, wearing jeans and a grey tee shirt, sat across from Lois, the two friends sipping the delicate liquid and savoring its gentle aroma. On her coffee table was a plate with brownies. They were enjoying this quiet time. The previous intensely emotional moments had drained them both, and they needed to regroup and discover new aspects of their relationship.

“I… I want you to know, crying jags is not who I am.”

“It’s okay, Lois. If you need to cry I’m here.”

“Oh Clark,” Lois whispered wiping her face on a wet sleeve and feeling contrite. “Maybe I should have listened to you and not broken into *that place* alone, look at all the trouble it’s caused.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” he quickly agreed.

“I mean, if you were with me using your super powers none of *this*… ” She pointed to her sling and sighed. “This whole fiasco might not have happened.”

Clark looked up from his cup in alarm. “Lois, my powers are not to be used to help with break-ins or any other corporate espionage! That is totally against what I… what Superman stands for.”

All of a sudden the helpless woman, he had cradled in his arms scant moments ago was gone, replaced by the stubborn reporter. “Hey, if it hadn’t been for me, that globe thingamajig of yours would still be in the possession of Bureau 39. Come on, deny that!”

Clark stared at the woman before him, suddenly all flame and passion, ready to take on anyone who got in the way of a story. He was angry with her for taking such a risk at the LexSolar facility, but Lois was also right concerning the globe. Without her drive and enthusiasm, he would still be thinking of himself as a Russian science experiment gone terribly wrong.

“All right Lois, I will give you that much, but just like with our first encounter with Bureau 39, Perry will refuse to print the story without proof. Don’t you get it? Those papers were acquired *illegally*. If the information within suddenly appears as a front page story, Luthor and his deep-pocket lawyers will be all over the Daily Planet in general and you in particular. Neither Luthor nor his lawyers will stop until they get the truth as to how that information was obtained. What will you do then?”

“I have a reputation of protecting my sources!” She responded stubbornly.

“Some judge might make you a test case. Are you ready to go to jail?” He responded in kind.

“Yes!” She snapped, determined not to lose this argument.

Clark sat back, momentarily, defeated then spoke again in softened tones, “How can our relationship develop, if the person I care the most about in the universe is in prison? We just found each other, Lois, don’t tear us apart.”

Taken aback, she was speechless for a moment, tried to find her voice, then fell silent. She thought a moment then tried again. “There is so much for us to talk about. I don’t know where we should begin. I do know I have feelings for you, Clark, strong feelings. Not a week has gone by that I didn’t think about how we could be if we took a step towards being more then work partners. But the awful risks loom in front of me. What if the relationship fails? You and I work too hard and talk about all the other things in our lives except for the most important… each other.”

“We are here together now. Let’s talk.”

“All right then - Superman. I want you to tell me *everything* about ‘him’. How and why he came about. Who made the suit and why didn’t you tell me about this other side of yourself.”

Clark’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we were going to talk about us?”

Exasperated Lois wrapped her good arm around drawn up knees and shot back, “There is no ‘us’ until I understand about him!”

***

In the Luthor Industrial Park, the lights at LexSolar offices were burning brightly. Many of the assistants were still cataloging their files in order to ascertain if anything had gone missing during the break-in. In Dr. Frederick Scott’s office, two men were closing out their final tasks of that evening.

“Okay, Dr. Scott, that should take care of the hard drive.”

“What about the server, Tobin? Is there any way one of you techno geeks in IT can access that data? This is pretty sensitive stuff we’re designing. I don’t want to read about it on somebody’s website.”

Working very hard to mask his annoyance, the IT manager responded as neutrally as possible. “No sir. Like I said, all the files in that folder were cleaned off the hard drive and destroyed.” Levi Tobin slowly packed up his instruments. He desperately wanted to get out of Scott’s office; the scientist had made the last thirty minutes feel like thirty hours, with his condescending attitude, demands and questions.

“If there are any further problems, put in a work ticket and one of my guys will be happy to help.”

“No. I don’t want anyone but *you* handling this computer, Tobin!”

“Sorry, I’ll be on vacation after today…uh, this evening’s work. We are leaving for two weeks. You know, taking the family to the shore.

“I don’t care where your family goes! What about my computer?”

Tobin, at this point, fed up with Scott’s rudeness, was about to say something he knew he would regret later. He hit on an idea. “Dr. Scott, my assistant is perfectly capable of handling this machine with complete confidentiality. He’s worked on Lex Luthor’s personal computer several times in the past. I can have him call you tomorrow.”

“Great.” Scott grumbled as Levi closed the door to the recalcitrant scientist’s office. “I have to break in another guy.”

Levi Tobin shook his head sadly. He hated doing this to the man, but at least Radames knew how to deal with jackasses like Scott.

***

Sitting on Lois’ unyielding couches, the couple had talked on for hours. There was a great deal to explore about each other.  Finally, after covering so much ground, Lois decided it was time to bring a painful part of their history out in the open.

“Clark, I know keeping the secret was meant to protect me and your parents, but you did lie to me and it hurt.  But the worst lie of all came when Clyde Barrows shot you.”

She studied his face carefully and watched the pain and sadness of that horrible night sluice across his entire body as if the gangster bullets had stuck anew.

“You laid there on the floor of tha… that speakeasy and pretended to be dead.  My *world* fell apart.  I felt as if the gunman’s bullets had struck me in the chest as well.”  Lois felt the tears glisten in her eyes; she sniffled gently then reached for a tissue.  “That was the worst night of my life.” Her voice sounded odd and distant in her ears.

“It was the worst night of my life as well.  What could I do?  The place was full of people who saw Barrow shoot me at point blank range.  Everything I had worked so hard for vanished in a second!  What kind of lame explanation could I come up with to explain surviving a gunshot wound?”

“You could have found a way to get in touch with me!  We could have worked it out together!”  She pleaded in a hoarse whisper.

“Lois, I made several mistakes that night.  The biggest was not coming to you and explaining the whole truth about Superman.”  He shook his head and continued.  “When Barrow dumped my body, all I could think about was you.”

At hearing the word ‘dumped’, Lois self-controlled evaporated like the morning dew.  “Oh Clark, I thought you were dead!” she cried out.

Lois felt the air currents shift as Clark raced to her side on the couch and gathered her small frame into his arms.

“I never wanted to hurt you.  Please forgive me.  I could stand losing everything, Metropolis, the Daily Planet, all of it... but not you.  Lois, being in this friendship - no relationship, defines me better as a citizen of Planet Earth.  I want to build ‘forever’ with you. To stay on the road we are travelling as loving companions and more.   Without my best friend and partner, nothing else matters.  I flew home to Mom and Dad.  They said I could still see everyone – as Superman.  However, that’s less than half my life.  Perry was so kind to my folks, he called while I was there to ‘break the news’.”

“The kindness Perry showed your parents?  What about the kindness people needed to show me?  Clark, I felt like a widow and I wasn’t even a wife!”

The import of Lois words hit him with the force of a thunderclap. He took her sweet face into his hands and spoke with all the passion his heart possessed.

“Honey...listen carefully to me.  I promise from this day forward never to let anything or anyone get between us again.  Nothing and no one will ever stop me from being by your side except death itself.”

Lois’ eyes grew large with understanding.  Slowly, her heartbeat changed from excited thumping to its normal steady rhythm. “Relationships are a serious commitment.”  It was a statement, nothing more.

He took her small hand and laid it on his chest.  “Lois, I am ready for a serious committed relationship.  The question is… are you?”

She did not answer, only repositioned herself on the couch to lay her head down on Clark’s broad chest.  The sound of his heartbeat was a soothing balm to her soul.  They lay together, intimately sharing something far stronger than friendship, but not as committed as marriage.  Finally, just as it seemed they might spend the rest of the night together on her terribly uncomfortable couch she spoke.

“I have another question,” she asked in a small voice.

“Name it.”

“Where did the idea for the Superman suit come from?”

“Remember when I messed up my business suit after rescuing that sanitation worker?  You suggested I bring a change of clothes with me to work.”

Lois raised her head and squeaked, “I don’t believe it! You got the idea for the Superman suit from *me*?”

“Exactly, a change of clothes *and* personality, so I can appear at rescues without anyone discovering my true identity.  I’ve been doing rescues for years in secrecy and not a little fear. Saving the space station’s colonists was just the beginning of Superman’s career.”

“Well, one thing is for sure, nobody looks at your face,” Lois snickered with a wicked gleam dancing in her eyes.

Clark’s face felt hot for a brief moment. “That was my Mom’s thought as well.  Hide behind a brightly hued, spandex-clad character to protect Clark Kent and those close to me.  It was yet another way to hide my abilities… a talent I have been perfecting for years.”

Lois chuckled for a little bit, than looked very carefully at her partner.  She noticed how rapidly his face had gotten serious with a hint of sadness. “It must have been lonely hiding such amazing powers from everyone.  Always being cautious of what people might think.  Never allowing yourself to get close to anyone.  You are a considerate person, Clark. Hiding such empathy and compassion behind a pair of glasses must have been very difficult… and painful.”  This last sentence she spoke softly, as if whispering some long-forgotten secret.

“Yes, but I always had Mom, Dad, to a lesser extent Pete Ross and now… you.”  He moved closer to her on the settee, took her right hand and caressed it tenderly.  “Lois, all the adventures, crazy mishaps and newspaper articles we have written together were leading us to this moment.  We don’t have to get engaged tomorrow, all I’m asking is to give us a chance to know each other without me hiding behind the cape.”

She tumbled heart long into those beautiful chocolate eyes, squeezed his hand, and heard herself saying.  “Yes.”

Part Fourteen

Clark whistled the tune “At Last” while knotting his tie, one of Lois’ favorites: a wide one, with several colorful planets swirling on a black background. He went over in his mind again about the all night conversation he and his lovely partner had concerning Superman and each other. Sometimes Lois got angry thinking how he had kept her in the dark for years. She mentioned it was logical, even thoughtful, but she was still miffed.

At that instance, Clark was sure Lois might have cheerfully shot him. However, after settling down, she realized it was better to have a live partner with all his secrets revealed than a dead one.

He had reluctantly departed from her only minutes before dawn, and despite being up all night, Clark was happy to begin a new day and a new chapter in his life. He continued whistling while preparing a raspberry banana smoothie for himself and then pouring a little fresh food into Pepper’s bowl.

Mentally Clark went through a list of important things to do today. One, order flowers from the local florist and have them delivered to Lois’ place. His mouth spread into a wide grin imaging the look on her face when the perfumed scent of tulips gently wafted to her nose. Two, pick-up some oolong tea for himself and a pound of breakfast blend coffee from the Java Perk. When she arrived at the Planet tomorrow, he intended to give the coffee to her as a welcome back to work present.

His mind was blissfully humming with plans for the future, involving a certain beautiful brown-haired woman with exotic eyes, with whom he wanted to share the rest of his life. Clark would no longer need to hide behind ridiculous stories and false excuses when he suddenly disappeared for rescues. Lois’ knowledge about his Kryptonian heritage was no longer a barrier to their maturing relationship.

Jor-El and Lara’s only son Kal-El could truly be a man of planet Earth. He began whistling again as his hands glided over the heavy wooden railing and walked up the three stairs to the front door landing.

“This is going to be a fantastic day! I’m in love with my partner and she knows my secret!”

It was all Clark could do to keep from floating as he exited the apartment.

***

Aykira stepped briskly into her office at 6:30 am on a crisp late spring morning. The air around her filled with the quiet swishing sound of her heavy quilted silk red jacket over a cream colored scoop-necked blouse with matching pants. True, she was here earlier than usual, but she wanted to go over a few items with Lex before the business of the day grew heavy with meetings, numerous conference calls and the inevitable deadlines.

The administrative assistant called up to Lex’s office and listened patiently as the phone continued ringing. Annoyed, she decided to give him a few minutes. <He probably has ‘company’ and doesn’t wish to be disturbed.> She put all thoughts of her boss aside and began working on materials for the Suicide Slum restoration. It was a pet project of hers: one that might take years to complete, but the results would benefit everyone in Metropolis. She sighed; hopefully, someone else would pick up where eventually she must leave off.

A few more minutes passed and she decided to call again, this time on his personal cell phone. The results were the same. Lex did not pick up. Outside her office, Aykira could hear Jane bustling about with her morning routine. She glanced down at the Rolex watch Lex had given her, it read 8:00.

Normally any overnight ‘guests’ were escorted out of his apartment by now; he should be in the office.

Determined to meet with her boss, Aykira gathered the Suicide Slum diskettes and materials into travel folders and then into her organizer. Some people might have thought her actions obsessive, but diskettes were sensitive devices; best to err on the side of caution. She exited her office suite and told Jane where she was going. “I don’t expect to be longer than forty-five minutes. Mr. Luthor and I are having a standard morning meeting.”

“Okay. See you around 9:00?”

Aykira nodded in agreement, than departed for the stairs leading to Lex’s ‘lair’.

As she was about to knock on the heavy oak door, when she heard what sounded like a body hitting the floor and a deep groan of pain.

“Oh my… Lex!” She burst open the door and saw Lex Luthor struggling to get up from the floor. Racing to his side Aykira tried to help him up. “Are you all right?”

***

Lex, although visibly shaken, tried to downplay the incident. “I was fine, until a minute ago. Another one of my stress headaches suddenly flared up and I tripped on the coffee table leg. It’s was quite clumsy of me, really. Please Ms. Milan, don’t concern yourself.” He looked at her with those quiet obsidian eyes, which still held traces of pain.

“Lex, I need you to be honest with me,” Aykira said forcefully. “Something is physically wrong! Why insist on hiding it? I wish only to help...”

“Ms. Milan, there is nothing *wrong* with me.” His voice had risen slightly and had an ugly edge. “Now, what did you come here for?”

“Remember our meeting this morning? You wanted to discuss the long-range cost and material projections for the restoration of Suicide Slum.” Reluctantly, she slipped into the familiar role of administrative assistant and sat down with him to begin their meeting.

<He is experiencing headaches, slight hand tremors, and now sudden dizziness. I do not like where this is headed,> she thought, while watching him struggle to hold the papers with trembling hands. When the meeting was concluded, Aykira gathered up all the materials and put them away, except for one diskette still lying on Lex’s desk.

“I need to pack up that final diskette, Mr. Luthor.”

“Of course...” He tried to pick up the item, but his hands were trembling so badly the task was impossible.

“Allow me,” Aykira said, in one smooth movement she had the diskette in its travel folder. She made it a point not to look at him, but it was too late.

“You need not regard me with pity!” He snapped. “My hands are working perfectly.”

“No Lex, they are not. Stop trying to conceal the obvious!” She responded heatedly, tired of the game

he insisted upon playing.

“When I need your expert *medical* opinion, I shall ask for it. Until then, stick to doing what I pay you to do!”

Something inside Aykira twisted. She had fought hard to keep the frustration and resentment from boiling over, but failed miserably.

“For once in your life, Lex, allow a person to help! It is not a sign of human weakness if someone gets close!” She snapped. “If anything, it is a clear indicator humanity has not departed from you altogether!”

“As I mentioned to you previously, *nothing* is wrong!” He roared back.

“Right.” Her voice lowered in volume, but it rang like forged steel. “Then if nothing is wrong, you won’t mind if I take a few days vacation?”

“What? Impossible! You cannot leave now!” He said, shocked at her words.

“I believe I can. If my services are still required, please contact me at home. Good day, Mr. Luthor!” Aykira placed the bulky organizer under her arm and walked briskly out of the room. Instead of closing the door quietly, as was her custom, she slammed it with all her might.

***

The silence in Lex’s office was deafening after the resounding bang from his assistant’s departure. He stared darkly at the door astounded at the sheer audacity of her behavior. “That woman!” He sputtered in anger. “How dare she leave in the middle of an argument?” He stood up slowly, the effects of this latest attack swiftly passing. With some effort, he walked toward the terrace doors, opened them, and stepped into the morning sunshine. This morning, thankfully, the light only slightly bothered his eyes.

He thought back over their first meeting, her job interview and how she was never apprehensive with his wealth and prestige. Upon gaining the position, she had worked hard to make the job her own. Aykira cared about accomplishing her duties in the most efficient, yet productive manner possible. He had come to rely on her judgment heavily for so many things. It was almost as if she were a complement of him.

<She means so much more to me than being an assistant. Why do I keep pushing her away? I need to get her back here immediately. Who else can I trust to help me run LexCorp – and be my friend?>

He would speak to her after his appointment with Dr. Kassaten.

***

“Jane. I will be out of the office for a few days...on vacation.”

Her assistant noticed the flush look on Aykira’s face and realized her boss had had another fight with Mr. Luthor. Wisely, she chose to say nothing.

“All right. Do y’all want me to forward any important messages to your home?”

“I think not. It is a working vacation…only Mr. Luthor will be able to contact me.” Jane’s ears did not miss the hard edge in Aykira’s voice. There was more to such a tone than a mere business disagreement. Her ears perked up when she heard Aykira’s tone soften and say. “Do not worry, Jane, I am not going anywhere. You know how changeable he can be. Try and hold the fort down!” Visibly relieved, Jane smiled and promised to look after things.

***

Hurriedly Aykira entered her office and sent off a number of e-mails to different members of her staff, informing them of her decision to take a brief vacation. Considering Lex’s behavior for the past week or so, returning to this office suite might not happen, but she wanted to cover all possible angles.

Her last e-mail was sent to Radames. Just to be on the safe side, she asked him to contact her at home if he located the particular computer item she had requested earlier that week. She checked the time… 9:22am. Lex had not followed her or sent an e-mail. <Good! He is probably cooling off as well.>

The administrative assistant stood up, filled her briefcase with personal paperwork, grabbed her purse and departed from the beautifully decorated office suite. Her heart gave a little lurch of apprehension. She hoped this would not be the last time she closed the door.

***

It was nearly 9:30 when Lois left from Uncle Mike’s restaurant, Café Americana. After Clark flew out her window early that morning, she was restless and too excited for sleep.

How would they treat each other in the newsroom? Now work and the assignments they shared held a deeper promise of greater adventures to come.

Slowly Lois began cleaning up the cups, dishes and plates from the last night’s conversation. It was difficult working with one arm hung in a sling. Once done, she experienced a happy sense of accomplishment, but now she wanted coffee. There was only one place close by and at this early morning hour where she could get a decent low-fat mocha latte, Uncle Mike’s Café Americana.

Lois took a quick invigorating shower and departed for the restaurant. In a very short time she found herself perched on a comfortable chair observing the cooks and wait staff preparing for the early morning breakfast crowd.

Presiding happily over the frothing energy of his kitchen, Mike Lane bustled over to his niece holding a steaming mocha latte and a brioche, warm and fluffy, fresh from the oven. She gratefully accepted the plate and cup, eyeing their contents hungrily. She took a sip, savoring the experience of the warm, delicious liquid smoothly flowing down her throat. As she tasted the brioche she said, “Yummy, sheer perfection!” Her mouth curved into a wickedly happy smile. Thank you. If you keep this up, I’m going to have to learn how to bake!”

“Okay, next week’s cooking lesson is brioche 101.”

“Oh come on Uncle Mike. Are you serious? I am a disaster in the kitchen… zero talent.”

“Look, pumpkin, cooking is a survival skill. Besides my suggestion still stands; tell Perry it’s for a new article.”

Lois stared at her uncle then rolled her eyes. “He’ll never buy it!”

Mike smiled and lowered his voice. “Then cook for Clark.”

Lois’ face blushed a light shade of crimson, took another bite of the brioche, smiled in rapacious pleasure, then murmured, “Okay.”

“What?” The older man stared in disbelief then smiled knowingly. He gave his favorite niece a hug then walked toward one of the stoves to inspect the cinnamon raisin muffins.

Shortly thereafter, despite the caffeine and hectic surroundings of the kitchen, Lois finally grew sleepy enough to want to go home. With a happy smile and a barely muffled yawn, she bide her uncle good-bye. Mike handed her a bag containing baked goods and a grilled chicken salad for later. Slowly, in a contented mood, she made her way home and despite the sling, slept sounder than she had in weeks.

***

Late morning found Cat Grant sitting at a sidewalk table outside the Java Perk. The gossip columnist ignored throngs of customers knocking back paper cups of expensive lattes and espressos, while she happily sipped citrus-flavored vitamin water. Sure, she was breaking the rules not coming into the office on time, but today’s column was written and George had a rare free morning. So what if her fiancé was just a little late… the Daily Planet could wait.

Cat was anxious to show George the wedding invitation responses. She looked over the names; Perry and Alice White, Jimmy Olsen, Clark Kent coming on his own. He would probably ask Lois Lane to accompany him. The handsome reporter showing up without his partner or worse yet, with another woman, was unthinkable. Besides, Clark would probably not attend if Lois had been left off the guest list. Cat could just imagine Clark ignoring the invitation and taking his partner on a night on the town, to prevent her from feeling left out. They grew real men of genteel qualities in the Midwest.

She was surprised at herself for inviting the prickly female reporter. Happily, they had reached an unspoken truce of sorts since Cat’s engagement.

<Oh well.> she smiled mentally. <Only six more weeks until her name was officially changed to Cat Grant-Amundsen.>

There had been a number of changes already in her life. Since accepting George’s proposal, she had focused on creating the ‘perfect’ wedding. Originally, Cat envisioned an over-the-top celebrity studded event - one to rival the White Orchid Ball. Her previous marriage started in a tacky wedding chapel in Las Vegas. The faded wallpaper depicted Victorian scenes of Cupid shooting arrows at hapless victims. Cat shuddered whenever she saw any pictures of the mythical creature. She also remembered that the ugly cramped room smelled of stale perfume and old cigar smoke. This time the nuptials would be elegant and classy.

Blissfully happy, Cat plunged into the time-honored tasks of planning a wedding. Soon she began making arrangements for a ceremony and reception venue, flowers, catering and shopping for her one-of-a-kind designer gown. She was giddy with the idea of experiencing ‘her’ triumphant day…with George of course!

Unfortunately, reality came crashing down on the gossip columnist. Between the cost of such an event and her fiancé’s insistence on a meaningful occasion, Cat had to pull in her claws. Now with time getting closer, she anxiously wanted the occasion to be over and move on with their new intermingled lives… in Seattle.

Cat had already managed to get a job with the Sentinel, a sister publication to the Planet, as an art reporter for the weekend section of the paper. Naturally, it was not a plum job like gossip columnist, but Cat was not concerned. She wanted the position only as income to pay for her tuition. Catherine Grant was going back to school to finish getting her degree in European art history.

“Hey, Ms. Grant, hot out of the oven, just for you, a ‘whispering eye’ muffin.”

“Oh Jason… I’m such a bad girl! The *last thing* my hips need is one of your dangerous blueberry muffins!”

Jason Cavatini shrugged his slim shoulders. The owner and chief baker of the Java Perk always awarded a distinctive and nonsensical name to one favored muffin each week. It was his coffee shop’s trademark, a distinctive way to allow the flavored breads to stand out. “Yeah well, in Seattle there are no ‘whispering eyes’. Bon Appétit!” He winked and hurried back to the kitchen.

Cat smiled after him. Java Perk represented one of many things she would miss about Metropolis, but there were always new places to explore and people to meet.

“Hey Red!” A familiar voice broke into her train of thought.

“Hey yourself, handsome!” She answered with her trademark purr.

Sitting down with a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea, George chatted amicably with his fiancée, happy to talk about their upcoming nuptials and avoid conversation about work. Earlier that week Cat had asked him about the break-in at LexSolar, and George honestly told her the matter could not be discussed with anyone outside of work.

Cat was not pleased to hear it, but respected his request; taking unfair advantage of their personal relationship for her column was the wrong way to begin a marriage.

They continued talking until George fell silent and his eyes intently followed something or someone outside the shop.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Cat asked, following his gaze.

“Across the street,” he pointed his chin toward Aykira. “Lex Luthor’s personal assistant and some-time media liaison. She looks to be in a hurry.” From the tone of his voice, Cat detected a mild undercurrent of concern directed at the other woman. It took all her self-control not to ask any questions. After all, Aykira was part of LexCorp and that was all part of work. No reason to get themselves bent out of shape over matters which were out of their hands. She took the scientist’s face in her hands and spoke decisively.

“Earth to George. Come in George! We have seating arrangements for the reception to discuss, remember?”

“Oh… oh yes, you are so right, Red. Looking at Ms. Milan reminds me of all the reasons I want to leave LexSolar behind. Seattle and my new job at the University, working on my book and most of all building a life with you are far more enjoyable prospects. Now, where were we?”

“You got the position!?” Cat squeaked, and threw her arms around George’s neck.

“Yes indeed!” he said modestly. “I set my own schedule, so work on the book will finally get some decent attention.”

They talked about the future, split the wickedly delicious muffin, and simply enjoyed the pleasure of each other’s company.

***

Aykira had decided to walk home from LexCorp. She desperately needed to clear her head after the terrible clash with Lex. Such deep emotional outbursts were unpleasant and tended to drain her mentally. This was the second time in two weeks she had threatened to quit. Perhaps this time the billionaire would take the threat seriously and fire her.

As tired feet propelled her homeward, Aykira suddenly felt the familiar, yet totally unexpected warmth on her right index finger. She looked down and noticed that the symbols on the ring glowed a faint blue color. Excited, she stopped walking and stepped into the street and began waving her arms frantically to hail down a cab. She needed to return home as soon as possible.

A Metrocab pulled up beside her. She opened the heavy car door and threw her body into the back seat she spoke breathlessly to the driver. “Please take me to the Lucerne condo building on Fortitude Terrace. The tip will be generous.”

“The man’s bland face split into a grin. “Done! Hold on!”

The vehicle lurched forward, its engines roaring. Aykira stomach flipped not once but twice. <Oh, no.> She thought, <Perhaps I should have offered him more to be careful!>

As good as his word, the driver pulled in front of the salmon-colored art deco designed building in under fifteen minutes. The dark woman handed over a twenty dollar bill for a five dollar fare. “Keep the change.” she announced while exiting the vehicle.

“Thank you ma’am!” The driver gave a genuine salute and drove off. Aykira ran into the lobby and upon reaching the elevator instrument panel her thumb pressed hard on the up button. Her right index finger still tingled with the insistent warmth from the ring. <I don’t dare miss this contact.> The high-speed elevator car arrived at the lobby, disgorging several passengers. Once inside, the car, impatiently she tapped her foot, readjusted her briefcase strap and blew out a sharp breath. <Move it, you misbegotten piece of engineering!>

Within moments the elevator stopped on the eighth floor and the impatient woman hurried off, keys in hand and high heels digging into the foyer’s thick carpet. She opened the door and stepped inside the spacious three-bedroom condo. Her movements were automatic, even absent-minded as the briefcase and purse were laid on the entry hall table and the keys tossed into a brown and black woven willow basket she had purchased some time ago in Brazil.

With rushed movements, she entered the study, which was tastefully decorated in soothing cream and sage green hues. The simple modern writing table had a black top. She removed a pencil holder, pencil sharpener and a small calendar. Lifting the edge of the desk until it stood erect and clicked into place, it had the appearance of a flat screen monitor. She removed the ring which by this time had ceased glowing, and touched it to the upper right hand corner of the monitor. The etchings on the side of the ring matched small indentations worked into the monitor; they dovetailed nicely.

The screen went from black to grey, then the hazy outline of a man’s face appeared. Sounds like a voice calling from an immense distance reached her ears. A moment or two passed, and then suddenly the long serious face of a man in his late forties or early fifties wearing stylish horn rimmed glasses appeared. Aykira beamed happily at Dr. Bernard Klein, her long-time friend and partner in her plot to locate the Harmonic Crystals. His image filled the screen.

“Bern!” She breathed with a mixture of delight and relief. “It is very good to ‘see’ you this day.” She collected herself and inquired. “Is all well? This is outside of our monthly update. But I am glad you contacted me. There is positive news; I am closing in on the person at LexSolar who should lead me to the crystals. Mr. Luthor stole them to further his ambitions of putting his own space station into orbit. By identifying his subordinate, it should be a simple matter of extracting the whereabouts of the crystals from him. It might be dangerous, but after all I have been through, this challenge is minor.”

The scientist looked at Aykira with sad grey eyes. His long face only made the expression all the more somber. He started to speak thought better of it, sighed and started to speak again. “We knew your foray into this alternate universe and world was a tremendous gamble and would take time. We are very patient. But…”

Alarm crept into Aykira’s voice. “Bern, did you contact me about Alexander? Is he well? The last time we spoke you assured me the neural treatments had slowed down his brain tumor’s growth, correct? I thought there was more time…”

The scientist smoothed down his black tie in a nervous gesture, then ran his fingers through thinning brownish gray hair. “No… no, his condition has stabilized, the medicine is doing its job, in fact, and the tumor’s growth has slowed considerably. His doctors are very pleased.”

Breathing a sigh of relief and closing her eyes, Aykira gratefully murmured thanks. “Then what is it Bern? Forgive me my friend, but are *you* all right?”

“I am well, Aykira. I am contacting you to tell you news… “

Outside of Bern’s office, happy voices could be heard; shouts of congratulations.

“What is the occasion? It sounds like a full blown party has erupted over there. I wish I could be there…with Alexander.” She said wistfully.

Looking extremely uncomfortable, Bern spoke, his words forlorn. “He’s the one I wanted to tell you about. His medical condition has improved so dramatically he decided to…”

The conversation was interrupted by an insistent knock at the door. Bern turned his back on Aykira and shouted, “Come back later.” But whoever was on the other side refused to listen and the door swung open. A smiling tall handsome man with black curly hair and obsidian eyes entered the room; he wore a crisp white shirt and relaxed cut blue jeans. Aykira’s mouth spread into a wide grin. She was about to shout a greeting at the handsome man over the link. Suddenly a petite blonde haired, green-eyed woman raced into the room and following the tall man, slipped her hand into his.

“Bern, you really must tell this person to contact you later. The entire lab staff is throwing us an impromptu party! The only person not here from your original team is Aykira. She must really like the land of ice and snow.” The blonde woman said without looking at the monitor. “Surely whatever conference this is can wait a half hour?”

“Yes, come join us,” the tall man said placing a hand on Bern’s shoulder. “It is not every day that a confirmed bachelor such as myself proposes to the woman of his dreams.”

“I was absolutely thrilled! Imagine me…Mrs. Lex Luthor!” The blonde woman extended her left hand to show Bern a rather large sparkling diamond engagement ring.

A strangled cry of shock escaped her throat and Aykira nearly severed the link with her world. Before the happy couple realized who their fellow scientist was talking to Bernard Klein hastily shooed them out of his office. He provided the excuse that the call was both highly important and confidential. Once the office door was closed and locked, he returned to the monitor and a saddened Aykira. “Please accept my deepest apologizes. I wanted to tell you myself that Alexander…Lex… is marrying Toni Baines. You have a right to know immediately, not upon returning from this mission.

Aykira fought hard to control her devastation. Such feelings must be expressed later in private. “Bern, why didn’t you tell me he was seeing her?”

“At the time, I thought he was just grateful to be recovering and she was merely a distraction. Besides, you were – different - then.”

“I have spent so many years in an alternate Earth waiting for the crystals to be invented, terrified of discovery at any time. Working for someone who looks exactly like Alexander, but is *not* him. All of my sacrifice and Antoinette just twists him around her finger?” She wanted to cry, but fought hard to control herself. There was more at stake than saving Alexander’s life. The crystals were desperately needed as an energy source for her world.

Bern’s face displayed great sadness. He placed a hand on the monitor, attempting to reach out and comfort his friend. “Aykira, I wish you had revealed your feelings for him.”

“Ah yes, my silence has damned me. Bern, remember how Alexander was when he first heard the diagnosis? He was angry and in shock, if I had told him then about my feelings he would have thought I was doing it out of pity. Not love. Time, it seems, is always my enemy. Besides, at the time, my appearance was not the most desirable.” She sighed, fought back more tears, not wishing to waste precious moments of tenuous contact with her own world on such a private matter. She steered the conversation in a completely different direction.

“So, my friend, how stands the energy crisis on our world?”

Bern replied, eager to move past the emotional upheaval. “As you know improper maintenance and old age has led to a large number of horrible accidents. Extensive drilling for natural gas reserves has been stepped up. Wind power has been used to great effect, but it is not nearly enough. Even offshore oil drilling is greater than before. But all this is only weakening the planet’s resources. Harmonic Crystals technology is the key to mankind’s future.”

He continued, “We are of course addressing the use of solar panels as well, but they work best with the crystals. The research into re-discovering the crystals continues but it is a very slow process.”

She nodded to herself, all had been heard before, the crystals were the key to everything. She asked, “No one besides yourself and Alexander know I am here?”

“As per our initial decision. We don’t want to build any false hopes. The very fact of Alt-Earth’s discovery of the crystals validates our transporting you there despite the council’s orders against it. Only six months have passed here since your departure. The cover story of you working in a solar energy research station in the Alaskan wilderness is holding up quite nicely.”

“Which again validates my reasoning for being the one to cross the dimensional frontier – I am not someone vital enough to be missed. Still it has been six months on your side, Bern, yet six long challenging *years* for me. It is fortunate the people of our Earth have such long life spans. Physically, I have only aged three years. Let us just hope no one from the council requests my presence anytime soon.”

The scientist looked very uncomfortable. “Aykira, it was my fault. That miscalculation was the most costly scientific mistake I have ever made, but you have paid the price.”

“In more ways than you can imagine…,” she said bitterly.

Bern’s features molded into a desperate pleading appearance, “Come home. Let me take your place and finish the mission.”

“No.” She whispered with a watery smile. “The gesture is more gallant than practical. I have everything in place here. As I mentioned earlier, discovering the identity of Lex - Mr. Luthor’s confederates will lead me to the crystals. You would have to start at zero. Besides,” she sighed sadly. “There is no reason to rush home now.”

***

It was close to six o’clock that evening as Lex strode confidently into the Kepler Neurological Center lobby and announced his name to the receptionist. The older woman’s mouth shaped into a counterfeit smile and told the billionaire to go straight upstairs. “Dr. Kassaten is expecting you, sir,” she said crisply.

It took only a few moments for him to arrive at the doctor’s office suite. Lex cast a critical eye over the bland office décor and faded couch with sags in places used for seating patients. He thought brusquely. <Considering the cost of this doctor’s visit the man should invest some capital into making the room more accommodating to his patients.>

A nurse, one with a more compassionate manner, escorted him into the examining room and told him Dr. Kassaten would be there shortly. Lex looked around the room. A number of diplomas from different universities were on the wall and an impressive hand drawn ink depiction of the human brain was on the right side of the diplomas. There was a long examining table, two uncomfortable looking gray plastic chairs, but not much else to recommend the room. <I will contact Candace and ask her to give this place a design makeover. She can forward all the expenses to me.>

Lex thoughts were broken when a slight, bookish looking man wearing a white lab coat entered the sterile examination room. Dr. Kassaten’s clinical, even cold demeanor always reminded him of an owl about to attack a frightened mouse. Still he was not paying the highly trained and talented neurosurgeon for his personality. All Lex cared about was results and currently he hoped they were negative ones.

“Thank you for seeing me with on such short notice this evening, Dr. Kassaten.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Luthor. It is understandable; the anxiety of waiting on test results is easier said than done. Your personal physician, Dr. Baxter, forwarded the scans here. He wanted my expert diagnosis.”

“Yes, even though he is the best general practitioner in Metropolis, neurology is not his forte.” Lex drew a deep breath and said, “Doctor, as you can imagine I am a busy man. What… what were the test’s results?”

“The MRI scans we performed last week yielded an outcome that is conclusive Mr. Luthor. I am sorry to inform you that your brain has an astrocytoma. There are many types; unfortunately, yours is a glioblastoma, a type which is highly aggressive and remarkably difficult to treat. Without radical surgery, the chances of survival outside of a year are minimal. But with the surgery, your symptoms will be alleviated and allow you to enjoy a normal – albeit with limits – life for a couple of years longer.”

Twisting angrily in the hard plastic chair to cover his disbelief, Lex remarked. “There must be some mistake, Doctor Kassaten. I feel perfectly fine!”

“That’s the worst part about this particular type of tumor. Its ill effects sometimes appear to vanish, leaving the patient symptom-free, but when it is least expected they return, stronger than before.”

Lex stood, so swiftly in fact, that he knocked over the chair, “Doctor, I assure you I am not some *patient*. My money helped build this place. I had intended to provide your office with a free makeover from one of the country’s best designers. But now such a favor is out of the question.” Lex, his temper frayed, voice grew louder.

“Who are you?” The billionaire sneered and advanced towards the shorter man. “I intend to get a second opinion and a third. I will prove you wrong.” Lex strode angrily past him, savagely ripped one of the diplomas off the wall and threw it to the floor, shattering the frame’s glass into several large pieces and a few smaller shards.

Dr. Kassaten stoically watched and listened to the billionaire’s tirade. He quickly held Lex by the shoulders and with surprising strength forcefully sat him back down into the remaining upright chair. Lex was in too much shock to fight back but stared at the surgeon in utter astonishment. He listened as the little man responded to his tirade in an oddly soothing manner. “I am sorry; sir, but these are the facts. If you wish to pursue another opinion that is of course your right, but the conclusion will unhappily be the same.”

Lex looked carefully into the man’s eyes and realized their genuineness. He knew without question, his life had changed forever. The billionaire; leaned back in the hard plastic chair and running trembling fingers through his hair, reluctantly accepted defeat. “Go on D…doctor. Wh…what kind of surgery is it?”

“I want to schedule neuroendoport surgery for this Friday. It is a minimally invasive procedure for deep-rooted tumors. A narrow tube or port allows me to access the gliomas through a tiny incision in the skull. Such an approach, Mr. Luthor, offers the benefit of minimal scarring, fewer side effects, complications, and a fast recovery time.”

Dr. Kassaten’s conversation turned to other matters, such as strict regimen of drugs and prescriptions. Proper diet. Plenty of the correct exercises. Complete and utter avoidance of cigars and alcohol. He wrote out three prescriptions to help Lex deal with the seizures. He informed the billionaire to clear his calendar and come in for surgery at the end of the week.

Lex heard only five words for every ten; his mind could not comprehend the affront that was happening to his body. However, there were other considerations, ones which must be addressed immediately.

“Dr. Kassaten. What if the procedure is postponed for a couple of weeks? Ten days at the most? LexCorp is a major worldwide conglomerate. I am its head. Literally thousands of people depend on me for their livelihood. It is imperative I legally put my temporary replacement in position, otherwise the financial repercussions will be considerable.”

Mr. Luthor, your conditions is quite serious. Delaying the operation would be most unwise. By rights I should be arranging for your surgery immediately.”

“Yes, yes… Doctor Kassaten, just answer the damn question!”

Shaking his head in defeat, the neurologist responded. “It is against my better judgment, but yes, ten days at the most. Nevertheless, take the medicine and avoid any unnecessary stress. My nurse will provide all the proper forms and information.”

“Fine.” Lex pointed to the pile of glass, wood and paper littering the floor. “You can bill me for the mess.”

The surgeon eyed him with unnerving composure. “I intend to.”

***

Twenty minutes later, Lex Luthor, third richest man in the world, emerged from the doctor’s office a broken, frightened man. All of the bravado he had displayed in the examination room had vanished. His hands shook and his eyelids blinked uncontrollably. He stepped onto the elevator, which was thankfully empty. Somehow, perhaps through sheer will alone, his body moved through the building reception area in a stiff, mechanical fashion. The indifferent receptionist, seeing his distress called out to him, with real concern in her voice. However, the billionaire ignored her question and slowly walked through the revolving doors outside toward the waiting black limousine.

“Where to next Mr. Luthor?” the driver asked.

“What?” He looked up distracted. “Oh, it…it doesn’t matter. Take me for a drive around the city.”

<How did this happen? I ignored the hand spasms and headaches for months; thinking it was due to a build-up of stress. How ironic, I fought up through the streets to amass immense wealth to better my life and now it is about to end. Dr. Kassaten said my affliction has entered the final stages. Even with exposure to the crystals I am doomed.>

Luthor looked around the sumptuously appointed vehicle, felt the exquisite supple leather of its seats, one of his many possessions - it gave him no comfort. He mentally thought of all of his numerous paintings, houses, stocks and bonds. He thought of all the business contacts, acquaintances and ex-lovers who had passed through his turbulent life and realized a glacially bitter truth; despite all the wealth he possessed and people he knew… Lex Luthor was the poorest and loneliest creature on the planet.

What of Space Station Lex? Would his greatest building achievement to remain undone? A most bitter pill to swallow, he wanted the space station to be the highest manmade object in the heavens. Gazers into the night sky had to think of him whenever they saw it. His own ‘Wonder over the World’ was done before it started, for who would tackle such a project once he was gone?

For the first time since his parents’ death, genuine tears sprang to his eyes and threatened to roll down freshly shaven cheeks. He fought to control this uncharacteristic, emotional tumult. Searching in his jacket pocket for a handkerchief, a meeting reminder tumbled out. Annoyed, he crushed the note in his hand, then he opened the paper. It was written in Aykira’s elegant hand.

Aykira. He wanted - needed to see her.

“Mr. Bolton,” he said to the driver. “Take me to Fortitude Terrace Drive, the Lucerne building. Ms. Milan’s apartment, I believe you have dropped her off in the past?”

“Yes sir. Right away.”

Lex eased back into the dark leather seat. He prayed she was home.

***

Aykira sat curled up on the plush cinnamon sofa reading in her living room about the successful Antarctic crossing of Sir Ernest Shackleton and his team. In her world, Sir Shackleton’s expedition had failed miserably. It was one of several striking differences between her world and the one she now inhabited. Light reading such as this relaxed her; it took a concerted effort not to dwell on Alexander and his fiancée. Her mind began to drift, wondering if he could be happy with such a manipulative woman, when her doorman called upstairs over the intercom.

Walking barefoot over the warm wooden floor Aykira responded. “Yes, Jacob?”

“Ms. Milan, there’s a gentleman here by the name of Lex Luthor. Shall I send him up?”

<Lex? Here? What on earth for? Was it too much to imagine the billionaire might want to *apologize*? In all honesty she did not want to see Alexander’s doppelganger this evening. She had already dealt with too many painful emotional disruptions for one day.>

Gently laying her forehead on the wall’s cool surface, she took a slight breath, than spoke into the intercom. “Yes… please send him up.”

Concerned over her messy appearance, she hastily changed from sweats to a soft navy cashmere pullover and blue jeans. Quickly she ran a comb through her long hair, checked her appearance in the hallway mirror and opened the door.

The shaken and disheveled man who entered her apartment was barely recognizable from the urbane and confident billionaire she had left at the office that morning. Lex Luthor’s eyes were red and swollen…from shed tears. However, it was much more than that. His very demeanor had undergone an abrupt transformation, as if the invisible twin steel cables of wealth and privilege, which enmeshed, shaped and ultimately protected his life were brutally severed. With concern etched deeply across her features, she bade him sit down.

“W… would you like something to drink?” she asked, barely recognizing her own voice. Lex’s altered behavior deeply disturbed her.

“No.” Bowing his head, angrily he raked slightly trembling hands through the dark curly mass of black hair. Suddenly those hands began to shake violently. A harsh, tortured whisper escaped from the depths of his throat. “It’s all over… everything for nothing. Vanity, ‘tis all vanity; striving after the wind...” He threw himself aggressively onto the couch, sobs escaping his throat. Years of pent-up emotions burst free.

Wrapping her arms around him she pleaded, “Lex…darling, please talk to me.”

He looked up, crying. He gently took her slim brown hands in his; the ever-present engraved silver ring glistened delicately on her finger. Tentatively in a rough, frightened voice, he said. “I… I hardly know where to begin.”

Taking his face in her hands she whispered, “Then let me hold you until the words come.”

Here was a man who with a single phone call could alter lives for good or ill. But now there was only a very upset man who took a strong, supportive woman in his arms for comfort and succor. It was so much better just to hold her. To ease the emotional tumult and calm his frightened heart. Slowly his breathing became normal and the trembling stopped. “My…my behavior for the past few weeks has been odd, to put it mildly.”

“That,” she responded while stroking his hair, “is a definite understatement.”

“Yes, well that yelling match in my office this morning was definitely not the real me.” Lex smiled sheepishly and bowed his head in genuine humility.

She held her tongue, revisiting that incident would be an exercise in futility. Despite Aykira’s own painful revelation that morning, she needed to listen to him.

He spoke in halting terms about the painful headaches, which had started months ago. He had thought that they were brought on by relentless work stress. “The matter did not concern me until the seizures began in earnest. M… my hands would tremble horribly, than my legs – for brief spans were incapable of supporting me. The final straw came when my eyes grew sensitive to light…especially in the early afternoon. It was all very alarming.”

“Lex, you should have told me about it. There was no reason for you to hide anything from me. Are we not… friends…perhaps even more?”

He held her hands to his chest, drawing strength from her touch. “I know that now. ‘Pride goeth before the fall’. I thought I could handle everything… anything on my own.”

“Lex, there must be something we can do… a procedure to be tried. We cannot just give up!”

“Dr. Kassaten said the tumor has grown too rapidly for that. It is in the advanced stages; quite frankly, he’s surprised I’ve lasted this long without treatment. Even unconventional cures are out of the question.”

<Have you thought of *everything*?> Her mind questioned. She could not tell him all she knew about the Harmonic Crystals theft. What those cursed manufacturer gems were capable of? Surely he had to be aware of their medicinal abilities? Still, she hesitated. To reveal her mission would undermine everything, but letting him die? <No, there must be another option!>

“Long ago,” Lex began. “I once told a reporter that my greatest asset was character assessment. The first day we met, I saw that the qualities of integrity, strength of will, and most of all loyalty were a key part of your character. Over time, those are qualities, I have come to lean upon… and cherish. In the past few weeks after our ‘disagreement’ I missed the closeness we had begun to share. I… I did not truly appreciate the depth of our relationship. It disturbs me to think something so precious was nearly squandered for momentary selfish, carnal gain.”

He stood up and paced the living room floor, straightening his tie and smoothing down the black wavy hair. Lex’s comportment and appearance steadily reverted to a man who had once again regained his focus and center. The captain of modern industry was steadily returning. She watched as he stopped in the middle of the floor and gazed lovingly at her face, than continued. “I carved out an empire, determined to make my own way in life. A man is the artisan of his own future. I very much want to spend that future…albeit, no matter how short, with you, dearest Aykira.”

“Lex, whatever happens, I promise you, we will face it together. If you wish for us to be together tonight…” Her voice trailed off, the full intent of her words unspoken.

He walked back to the couch, sat down and took her hands again. “I need you to be more than a mere lover, to be discarded after a night’s pleasure. There have been far too many nights like that in my life. No, I…I wish us to be more than friends. Dearest, lovely Aykira, please, stay by my side… as my wife.”

The unexpected words roared in her ears. Releasing his grip, Aykira stood up rapidly from the couch and walked away from him, her bare feet suddenly icy on the warm wooden floor.

“Marriage? I… I do not know what to say. All of this is so sudden, Lex.”

“Then say yes,” he pleaded.

Shaking her head in confusion, she continued. “Remember, it was less than twelve hours ago we were yelling at each other. In the recess of my mind I was convinced you were with another woman.”

The billionaire stood up as well. All pretense of the suave cosmopolitan was gone, leaving only a man desperate to press his argument. He walked toward her tall and straight, emanating a sense of nobility so powerful it threatened to overwhelm her. “I was mistaken to demand intimacy after our brief kiss. So many women have thrown themselves at me, wanting only what my money and power can provide. Not for myself as a man. But from the moment we met such things never mattered to you. Throwing you in with that crowd was arrogant and demeaning.”

She watched him and listened spellbound as he verbally tore down all of his defenses.

“You may find this hard to believe, but I *wanted* us to have a real courtship. That day you hesitated to be interviewed by Lois Lane, I realized the importance of having Aykira Milan in my life. If there was time, I would cherish you beyond measure. However, my sweet, time has caught me out. You once said, ‘loyalty is a commitment’, so is love, one to last a lifetime. Sadly, we only have a short here and now.”

Tears filled hazel eyes; than tumbled down her cheeks. She wiped them fiercely away; this day had been full of bitter news hard to comprehend. The confession of his love for her… and his proposal was a happy surprise. Nevertheless, she still needed time. Taking a deep breath, she spoke. “No one should go through such a terrible ordeal alone, but Lex I must have time to meditate. Please, tonight is all I ask.”

He bowed his head in sadness. But ever the gentleman to this mysterious woman, he agreed. “Very well. I should let Mr. Bolton know I’m coming downstairs.”

“I will be at the office first thing tomorrow morning with my answer.”

“It is all I ask.” Lex held her face in his hands and first kissed the tracks of tears away and then her warm, succulent lips. They embraced each other with a fervor that once again frightened but thrilled them. His voice whispered into a delicate ear, “Don’t ask me to remain alone too long. I pray your answer is yes.” His lips slid down her exposed throat and gently the tip of his tongue traced the length of her left collarbone. “Goodnight, my sweet.”

Their bodies separated. Aykira’s knees trembled with the shock of denied passion. Before she realized what had happened, Lex was gone.

“Oh my…“ Her voice quavered, the sound of an excited, tumultuous heartbeat pounded in her ears.

***

Part Fifteen

In high spirits, Clark Kent tapped a happy shave-and-a-haircut rap on Lois Lane’s front door.

Looking through the peephole she said, “Clark, you’re here already?” With the inevitable sounds of locks turning and bolts drawn back, she clumsily opened the door and welcomed him inside. Her partner stepped into the familiar apartment and waited for her to finish getting ready, which was taking a little longer than usual with only one arm.

“Of course I’m here! Hey, this is my favorite partner’s first day back at the job. Nothing and no one is going to stop me from escorting her to Java Perk and then the Daily Planet.” Clark stepped back and looked appreciatively at what Lois was wearing. Despite the ugly blue sling holding her arm in place, his partner wore a shimmering burnt orange dupioni silk wrap jacket which looked stunning next to her creamy skin. The matching skirt was long but tapered nicely against her hips and the simple side slit displayed a hint of shapely legs. The sight of those legs caught his breath away - Lois Lane - a truly beautiful woman.

“Wow the suit looks fantastic on you!” Her partner stood transfixed at the door, thoughts were running through his mind that really shouldn’t be there….

Lois rewarded his compliment with a genuine beaming smile. He had a sneaking suspicion she really wanted to appear special today – for him. “Thank you.” She responded graciously to his compliment, not a prickly comment in sight. “It should only take a moment to get my briefcase.”

Before she could step away, Clark touched her arm and gently, oh so gently drew her to his chest. “No. Thank you, Lois, for being more than my work partner… so much more than a friend.” He surprised himself and bent down, kissing her tenderly.

After the kiss, they stepped apart, their breathing a little harder than a moment before. Lois touched a forefinger to her lips than spoke first, whispering. “I need to get my casebrief… ah briefcase.” Then she reluctantly slipped out of his grasp in pursuit of the bag.

Minutes later, they exited Lois’s apartment quietly holding hands and wishing they could spend the day with each other exploring the wonders of the world rather than heading for the Daily Planet.

Self-consciously Clark tentatively took hold of Lois’s right arm and the attractive young couple walked down the broad sidewalk of brownstone lined Carter Avenue. The tree limbs and branches were bursting with green leaves gently swaying in the morning breeze. He noticed owners of several of the houses had medium-sized colorful spring potted plants on the stairs, giving the stately old buildings a welcoming garden-like flair.

They crossed a wide main thoroughfare and walked pass stately Hyperion Avenue. The houses on this block were gracious three-story townhomes. At one time the structures had been seriously neglected, but several determined renovators were purchasing the buildings to restore these architectural gems to their splendor of a bygone era.

Clark always loved this particular part of Metropolis not just because it was where Lois lived, but because the Nayland Heights neighborhood seemed a superb place to call…home.

He felt just great, walking with Lois close by, as more than a friend or her work partner. They were finally a *couple*. This was just the type of relationship he had dreamt about for years, but many times had thought might never become a reality. Yet here they were. The young man smiled to himself thinking of the days and perhaps years to come when as husband and wife walking to the Daily Planet every morning became routine.

The stray thought came at him out of thin air, startling him so much he almost stumbled.

“Hey flyboy! Better be careful, otherwise I might need to call Superman and ask him to fly us to work.” Lois’ voice rang with merriment.

Warm chocolate eyes gazed intently at the lovely brunette and he whispered, “Someday soon I will.”

***

Radames Perez entered his small office within LexCorp’s IT department, ready to start the morning routine. First, he bumped the computer out of its sleep mode then checked his voice-mail. The terse message from his supervisor, Levi Tobin, caught him off guard.

“Listen, Radames, I hate to dump this job on you first thing in the morning, but check on Dr. Frederick Scott’s computer at LexSolar in the LIP. Don’t bother driving over there. Use the autopilot program to check over the hard drive wipe I performed a couple of nights ago. Apparently there are critical files in there he doesn’t want anyone to see. The idiot wouldn’t leave me alone for a second, so the defrag program might not have been as conclusive as he liked. So wipe out any sub-folders if they appear. Leave an e-mail update. Thanks partner. I owe you one.”

<Jeez, like I don’t have enough computer forensic work to do today. Let me run a quick diagnosis on this guy’s hard drive. Assure him all is well, than I can get back to my *real* work. Checking the scientist’s printer logs for Aykira.>

Within thirty minutes Radames had completed a thorough background and diagnostic check of Scott’s computer. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary he was about to wrap up when a sub-folder appeared within one of the main folders which had been missed by Tobin.

Radames was about to delete the sub-folder when he noticed the time stamp of its creation… the day before the break-in. Something told the programmer accessing this file might contain the material Aykira was looking for.

Clicking on the icon, he opened the sub-folder, picked a file marked ‘Crystal Extraction team’ at random, opened it and started reading. The man’s ears perked up and suddenly his heart beat faltered than increased with alarm. This was serious grand larceny stuff! There was a fully detailed plan for hijacking the freighter Shackleton, along with names of the men who did the crime. Not to mention a navy official who ‘loaned’ these men a mini-sub.

For whatever reason Aykira needed this file and its contents, he wanted no part of it. With practiced movements the programmer downloaded the entire file onto a flash drive, than erased it from Scott’s hard drive.

Radames used the autopilot program to skillfully erect a backdoor out of Scott’s computer leaving no trace of his efforts. If Levi Tobin asked him whether or not the work order had been filled he intended to deny it. As a member of the hacker elite, admitting to knowledge of the kind Scott was concealing could only land him in jail… or worse.

Bending down over his phone, Radames contacted a courier service and requested they send a person to his office to pick-up a package. The courier’s final destination would be provided upon arrival at LexCorp.

The programmer shook his head and thought worriedly. <Whatever special project Aykira is involved in can only lead to trouble… the kind a person does not ‘recover’ from. Perhaps I should be looking into another place of employment?>

***

Lois peeked hungrily into the pastry display case at the Java Perk, wondering what whimsical muffin name Jason had concocted this week. The owner put a small white cardboard sign in front of a tray of carrot walnut raisin muffins newly emerged from the oven. The orange colored ink boldly stated the name ‘Canker Holler’.

The reporter rolled her eyes and shook her head, the brunette hair flowing easily. <It doesn’t make any sense! Still it’s how the muffins taste that matters.>

“A double mocha latte with whole milk *and* whipped cream? Where is the real Lois Lane?” asked the startled shop owner.

“Jason, once a year a girl is entitled to ‘walk on the wild side’! This is my first day back at the Planet and I intend to celebrate!” A happy Lois smiled with profound pleasure while sipping the comforting brew. “Oh, don’t forget to put the Double Fudge Crunch bars in my briefcase.”

“Your wish is my command. Good to see you back. Jimmy told me about the accident. When does the arm come out of the sling?”

<Accident? Must be the cover story Clark told everyone.> “Probably tomorrow. My doctor has to see how the stitches are healing.”

“That’s great! Hey Clark, I’ll bet you are really glad to have Miss Lane back in action?” Jason called out to the reporter as he expertly grabbed donuts and napkins to fill out their standing order.

Clark, beaming from ear to ear with his breathtaking grin, could not contain himself. “You bet! Working solo all the time was no fun at all!” He took the crisp white bags from the Java Perk’s proprietor. He placed his hand on the small of Lois’ back and said over his shoulder. “We are both are looking forward to working together again. See you later.”

They exited the coffee shop, full of hectic early morning imbibers of the marvelous brew. The partners were delighted to be settling back into their comfortable pre-work morning routine. Metropolis looked bright and sunny, the day full of happy opportunities.

Within moments, they were entering the lobby of the Daily Planet. Lois’ stomach did happy little butterfly twirls, returning to her second home at last. Sid, the taciturn old newsstand owner came around from his traditional spot and instead of a hug, the old gentleman presented her with two Double Fudge Crunch bars. “On the house,” he mumbled, and then returned to waiting customers.

“Wow. Sid never gives me anything when I come back from sick leave!” Clark quipped as he pushed the elevator button.

“That’s because you are *never* sick…Flyboy!”

“Lois.” Her partner looked around nervously. “You might want to keep the ‘flyboy’ reference to when we are alone. Everyone knows flying planes is not something I do. Who knows who might be listening?”

At first Lois wanted to laugh at what she felt was Clark being overly sensitive. After all they were in the Daily Planet lobby, *who* was going to hear them? But then looking into his chocolate eyes, shaded with genuine worry and concern, the full import of his ‘other’ life hit her. This is what it meant to ‘hide in plain sight’ for Clark, to always be careful not to reveal who he was. These precautions were in place to protect himself, his parents and now her. Placing an understanding hand soothingly on his, she whispered, “I’m sorry Clark, I wasn’t thinking…Farmboy.” This last was said with a mischievous wink.

His beaming smile broke through the worry and they boarded the waiting elevator. “Let’s get upstairs before Perry thinks you are taking another sick day.” The doors closed and the couple folded awkwardly into each other arms; Clark being mindful of the sling and bakery bags. Despite the hindrance, it was divine to spend a few private moments sharing a warm, adoring kiss.

They enjoyed the brief respite of togetherness, than reluctantly separated only seconds before the elevator doors swung open. Smiling joyously, Lois thought, <Hello Daily Planet newsroom! I’m back!>

As Lois and Clark walked over to the ramp, the air was punctured with greetings from the newsroom staff.

“Lois! Welcome back!” the normally shy Diane shouted while giving her a hug. “Today’s lunch is on me!”

“Ms. Lane, the place ain’t been the same without you!” Steve smiled effusively.

Jimmy ran up the ramp and gave Lois a brotherly squeeze. “This is great! The better half of the hottest team in town is back in action.”

“Lane, nice of you to come around and join the rest of the civilians. That must have been some party.” Cat put in while coming from the copy room, her arms loaded with folders, plain manila and red.

“Ah, Cat, you’re just jealous because you weren’t invited!” Lois responded with laughter.

“Umph! Any party with you in attendance won’t interest me.” This was said without Cat’s former malicious edge. “Seriously, it’s good to have you back in the newsroom. Kent seems to be glad… even relieved.” This last was said while pointing her chin at Clark.

Lois looked into the other woman’s flashing green eyes and was immediately aware of Cat’s genuine concern. “Thank you,” she responded.

“Good. Since your arm is still healing, how about helping me go through my wedding RSVP’s? After all… you don’t have anything else to do.”

“In your dreams, lady!” Lois tossed back the comment without any heat.

“Ha! That’s what’s missing around here! It’s a genuine news room catfight!” Ralph leered as he walked down the red staircase. The obsequious ‘reporter’ might have said more, but was silenced by Steve and Eduardo’s matching glares.

Finally, the Daily Planet’s hottest news team reached their desks. Each booted up their machines and began the day’s work. Lois groaned loudly at the number of unopened e-mails awaiting her response.

***

Cat sauntered back to her desk and placed the numerous folders on top. With deft movements two piles were formed. The red pile was wedding related, while the manila pile contained work items. The gossip columnist was preparing a packet of materials for her replacement, whoever that might be.

Briefly, a wave of nervous trepidation moved through her body. Was she sure that leaving the Planet and an active career in entertainment reporting was a wise decision? Was getting married and moving to the left coast the right move? She thought back to the days of the Nightfall Asteroid and the deep loneliness she had experienced. George had filled that terrible emptiness and now together they were enjoying a full and loving relationship. <Nope,> she thought, <the time is right to make some changes and progress into a new phase of my life.> Glancing over at the ‘hottest team in town’, it was evident changes had taken place on that front as well.

She had seen the look on Lois and Clark’s faces upon exiting the elevator. Their easy companionship had taken a major turn, despite the prickly female reporter’s former standoffish behavior. Something had *finally* happened between them and she was secretly pleased. In a quiet inner voice, she commented. <Glad you finally woke up before it was too late, Lane.>

With a contented smile and renewed determination, the striking auburn haired beauty went back to work… on her upcoming nuptials.

***

Work at the Daily Planet that morning geared up to its normal routine of headlines and deadlines. Only now, the atmosphere was gently tingling with contented blissfulness between its star investigative reporters. Lois and Clark bantered, exchanged notes, checked one another’s copy and generally were satisfied with each other in particular and life in general. For a little slice of time, all in the newsroom was good.

Despite having to type with only one hand, Lois furiously banged out a follow-up to the Stone and Mercantile story. She did not want to be late handing in her first assignment in nearly a week. Perry and Clark had covered for her, but Lois Lane was never known to have *anyone* pull her weight. Nothing, not even a gash caused from a bullet, was keeping her out of the action. She could do with one final quote from someone within the Bank to give the story a proper weighty conclusion. With typical Mad Dog eagerness, she picked up the phone to call her source at the bank.

As soon as the follow-up story landed in Perry’s inbox, Lois began impatiently scratching the bandage. She could hardly wait for Pete Ross’ exam tomorrow to give the medical release for its removal. It was an annoyance and she hated it. The reporter was so deep in her grousing the sound of Perry approaching was completely ignored until he stood between her desk and Clark’s.

“Uh, can I see both of you in my office?” This was not a command, but a quiet request.

Perry ambled off towards his office the two reporters stood from their desks, exchanged mystified fleeting looks, and followed in his wake.

Ralph, glanced up from his messy desk, whined. “Check it out, less than a day back from a long absence and already the chief gives them a plum assignment! What about everybody else?”

“Everybody else already has an assignment, what about you, loudmouth?” Jack snarled from his tiny cubicle.

Ralph responded haughtily. “Mind your own business kid. *I* got seniority. You’re just a grunt.”

Unfazed, Jack responded. “Maybe so, but we’ll see how long that lasts. Besides, they are *real* reporters. I’m still trying to figure out what you do around here.” Without saying another word, the young researcher returned to his computer.

The older man was about to make a nasty reply at the youngster’s back when he saw Eduardo out the corner of his eye and decided to look over something on his desk.

***

“Come on in and shut the door please.”

The two reporters shared a look. Since when did Perry ever say ‘please’? Something was definitely out of place. “Sure, Chief, what’s up?” Clark asked as he sat down on the plaid couch next to Lois. Out of reflex, he almost took her hand, thought better of it and listened intently to Perry.

The senior editor caught that minor movement and decided to ignore it. “Huh, in light of Lois’ return to the newsroom and with her arm in a sling, I thought this next assignment suited the situation to a tee.”

Lois’ eyes lit up with barely controlled glee and keen anticipation, fairly jumped out of her seat and asked. “What is it? The rumored downtown carjacking ring? A juicy major corporation tax fraud? Maybe an in-depth look at the proposed restoration of Suicide Slum by LexCorp? Who knows what’ll crawl out from under *that* rock! Come on Chief… spill!”

Their boss smiled, this was the reason why at twenty-seven years of age Lois Lane was the best damn investigative reporter in the business. The woman had newspaper ink running through her veins! On the other side of the couch her partner stiffened slightly. Wasn’t ’spill’ the same word which started the ill-fated Shackleton/Harmonic Crystals stakeout?

Before Clark could voice his objections, Perry continued speaking. “Nope, sorry to say it’s none of the above. You and Kent here will be attending the Metropolis Science and Energy Conference. The main topic is how energy conservation can save the Earth’s environment.”

The differing reaction between the two reporters was interesting to behold. One looked as if the wind had been knocked out of her sails while the other breathed a sigh of profound relief.

“Perry, you can’t be serious! What’s with the cream puff assignment? We are a team of *investigative* reporters! Not writers for that egghead magazine, Scientific American! This is something Applegate is better suited for, or Myers. Send either of them.”

“Now hold on Lois! Today is ‘day one’ back from a serious injury. I’m only thinking of you, honey.”

“Hey, I’ve suffered through worse injuries. Remember that ski trip when I broke my leg?”

“Humph!” Perry grumbled and turned to Clark. “Well! *That* little fiasco happened the winter before you started working here. I had to listen to that woman yelling the whole way down the mountain. I haven’t heard such language since my days walking through Baghdad with the Military Police... “

“Never mind that!” Lois interjected. “Why are you protecting me?”

“Because I had to field a number of phone calls from MetroPD in general and Inspector Henderson in particular. He wants to know what you were doing at the hotel during the break-in and why you didn’t stick around to report the story.”

Suddenly Lois got quiet and said in a small voice, “Oh. Well, the officer on duty lied to me.”

Perry gave her a very pointed look and said. “Uh huh. Anyhow, until this whole LexSolar investigation is at an end, you need to lay low.”

“I still say send Applegate. Besides, we need to keep digging into the Shackleton hijacking, which is kinda sorta directly related to the break-in at LexSolar.” Then in an offhand manner she added, “Clark discovered a new lead.”

The older man’s eyebrows shot up and fixed a stare at the younger one. “Kinda? Sorta? When did this happen? Why didn’t either of you mention it before?”

He watched as Clark, no doubt feeling acutely uncomfortable, fought hard not to squirm in his seat. The reporter faced Lois and gave her a questioning look. Then Clark turned back to Perry, and choosing his next few words very carefully, he spoke. “Hmm it’s nothing concrete, so talking about it right now is pointless.”

“Not concrete huh?” Perry studied the faces of his two finest reporters and realized neither of them would say anything without the other’s approval. <Fine, they want to play that way, so can I> “Well, if that’s the case, here are your press passes, tickets and whatnot for the conference. Give me a nice *crisp* story for tonight’s edition.”

“But Chief… “Lois’ voice took on a near wailing tone.

“No buts. This will be a good way for you to ease back into the saddle… without calling attention to yourself.”

“More like walking into ‘Perry’s doghouse’.” She mumbled as they stood, gathered up the material on Perry’s desk and departed the office.

The senior editor smiled to himself, <If nothing else it will give those two time together. More importantly, Clark can keep an eye on her.>

***

Once back in the newsroom Clark took Lois by the elbow and guided her into a conference room just vacated by a group of staffers. The remnants of an early morning meeting, half-empty cups of stale coffee and small white paper plates, half-eaten pastries and a still warm coffee pot, were on the table. Neither reporter paid any attention to the mess, although Lois’ nose wrinkled slightly from the coffee. The Java Perk’s excellent blend had completely spoiled her taste buds. The Daily Planet’s noxious brew no longer held any appeal.

“Lois, what were you thinking? Telling Perry *I* have a lead on the Shackleton case? We agreed any evidence obtained during the break-in could not be used in the story.”

“Yes, but what’s wrong with us using the information to get *at* the story? Look, I got that report from Dr. Scott’s computer, it stands to reason he’s the one who either plotted the theft or was carrying out orders from a higher authority.”

“Luthor.” Clark fairly spat out the name.

“Aha, now I understand why you never particularly cared for him, you saw both sides of the man, public and criminal. If we go over the information together and with a little research help from Jack something is bound to turn up.”

“Good idea, it might work,” Clark said grudgingly.

“Thanks, but if my mind weren’t distracted by a certain Fly… Farmboy I might have remembered this lead a whole lot sooner!”

“Hmmm, I can send over the information to either Jack or Jimmy and have them work on it while we cover our assignment.”

“Rats!” Lois snorted acerbically while rolling her eyes. “Do we *really* have to attend a nerdy science conference?”

“Lo-is.”

“All right! But I don’t have to like it!” Lois groaned rolling her eyes again. They exited the conference room and passed Applegate on the way to their desks. The poor man wondered why Lois was giving him such an ugly grimace.

***

Lex Luthor awoke from a deep sleep, one filled with dreams. He had dreamt about his life. He could mentally see his hard working parents’ struggle to raise their son decently amidst crowded slum conditions and their unforeseen, premature and tragic deaths. His own rough and tumble youth on Metropolis’ bitter backstreets and his meteoric and successful rise within the business world. So many images, some pleasant, others terrible, flooded his mind, they threatened to overwhelm him. However, it was recent memories, which presented themselves one after another, with frightening clarity.

Doctor Kassaten’s diagnosis had been grim and final. Lex had managed to put a stay on his surgery, claiming to search for a temporary head of LexCorp while he convalesced from the procedure. There were a number of good candidates, some of whom had been with him for over a decade, but only one had his complete trust. He would discuss the matter and all its legal implications with Sheldon Bender before leaving for his honeymoon… if there was one.

It was understandable such a proposal had caught Aykira off guard, but as Lex had told her, time was at a premium. He originally wanted to savor their relationship, let it mature like a Bianco delle Venezie wine sipped from the finest crystal goblets Now *everything* had to be done at an accelerated rate.

Still there were other more pressing matters, which required his attendance.

After departing from Aykira’s condo he contacted Dr. Scott at home and demanded two of the crystals be immediately delivered to his office via messenger. Naturally, the recalcitrant man argued against any of the crystals leaving his possession. He also stated the lateness of the hour. Of course, Lex prevailed and accepted no excuses. Within three hours of the phone call, a small metal box containing the precious rocks arrived. Delivered by a wound up Dr. Scott, insisting to know what Lex needed them for.

The billionaire smiled to himself remembering their quick, but heated exchange.

“I am sorry, but *my name* appears on the paychecks. Thank you for bringing the crystals over personally. Asabi will see you out.”

Scott continued to argue, “Luthor, those crystals are essential to develop an efficient power source for Space Station Lex! Within the time-frame for next year’s launch! The secret development team needs every last one of those rocks in order to complete our experiments! They are going to want to know what happened to them, especially after last week’s break-in! At least tell me how long they will be in your possession?”

“I will have them for as long as necessary. I say again. Good night Dr. Scott.”

Dr. Scott stormed out of the office. Lex could hear the man’s voice cursing long after the door had closed behind him. Still, the object of months of planning and subterfuge were in his grasp. Tonight he would sleep with them by his nightstand and perhaps the crystals might improve his strength for the days ahead.

It was a little after midnight before the billionaire retired to his bedroom and removed the impeccably tailored Saville Row suit. The box containing the faintly glowing lavender and white crystals was placed on the nightstand, allowing their emanations to bombard his flesh. Shortly after his evening ablutions, Lex slipped between fresh wine colored satin sheets. Surprisingly, sleep came immediately.

Now with the morning begun, he awoke to a hearty breakfast of eggs, blueberry pancakes and sausages, not his usual fare, but he decided to ‘live a little’. After breakfast, Lex anxiously awaited a call from Aykira. He suspected part of the reason for his dreams was anticipation of her answer. The thought of rejection never entered his mind. However, could he handle it if she did?

At precisely 8:00am the phone’s sharp ring burst out loudly, its shrill sound interrupted any further thoughts.

“Hello.”

<<“Lex. It is Aykira. Can you clear your calendar for this afternoon? I need to talk to you outside of the office.”>> Her voice had a sad pained quality. <<“After hearing what I have to say, than you can decide if you wish to marry *me*.”>>

Aykira’s suitor, greatly puzzled by her words responded. “Of course my dear, where do you want to meet?”

<<“As we did on our date,”>> she paused. <<“On the steps of Greystroke Museum, at 3:30, if that time is suitable for you?”>>

“All right than… shall I wear jeans?” He strived to make his voice light.

She hesitated and responded softly. <<“Whatever you wish… surprise me.”>>

***

In his tiny apartment cramped with books and file folders just off Centennial Park, Dr. Frederick Scott paced up and down in his living room furious with Lex Luthor. Whatever insipid game the arrogant billionaire was playing last night could not have come at a more inopportune time. He planned to hide, than remove all the remaining crystals today. His ‘associates’ wanted them this evening. With the huge payday they planned to give him, he could kiss gambling debts and academic toadying good-bye forever.

No more working for the likes of his previous supervisor, Dr. Toni Baines. The beautiful yet ruthless director constantly plagiarized his painstaking detailed shuttle performance reports. Upon her leaving EPRAD, he tried to claim credit for the reports, but all evidence had been destroyed. The only thing his abrasive efforts got him was a hasty dismissal from the program.

Now his intelligence and abilities were again being exploited for someone else’s benefit. While George Amundsen ran the ‘legitimate’ solar panel research, Scott was secretly leading the team working on using the Harmonic Crystals as an alternative power source for the station. Whichever team succeeded could expect worldwide admiration. Ambition burned beneath the man’s bland expression. At last, his labors would be the ones handsomely rewarded rather than shunted to the side and forgotten.

It was time for him to get to work… his last day working for LexSolar.

***

Across town, Lois and Clark were entering the large steel and glass enclosed Coates Convention Center. Neither reporter was happy covering this event; their preference was to remain at the Planet, leaning over Jack’s shoulder. The young man was proving to be a crackerjack researcher who could wheedle information from both computers and people. They walked through the tall glass doors of the center. Perhaps he might have unearthed a vital piece of information while they listened to long-winded speeches.

The duo worked their way through the bustling crowd to the voluminous coat check area; Lois handed over her pumpkin hued wraparound jacket and took the identity medallion from a pleasantly smiling attendant. All the while, she acerbically derided Perry’s ‘editorial’ decision to send the investigative team on this particular assignment.

“Clark, this is ridiculous! Perry thinks he’s doing ‘us’ or rather me a favor, by giving me a ‘quiet assignment’! With the man who is my partner as my baby-sitter and protector. Not that I mind having you with me, but I’m an *investigative* reporter! People like me don’t do ‘quiet’. Jack might find the one critical piece of intel that links together everything we have been looking for.” She glanced with a reporter’s eye around the convention center. “Isn’t it exciting, about the possibility of picking up the scent of the guys who hijacked the Shackleton and stole those Harmonic Crystals?”

Her partner listened with happy bemusement as Lois launched into full-blown babble. It was one of the many endearing qualities about her he cherished. The expansive main entry hall displayed three signs detailing the day’s events. In the Larson Room was a cardiac surgeon’s convention; the Neill Room was hosting an astronomy meeting. The final sign listed the Science and Energy Conference in the Reeves Venue.

“Hmmm, the Reeves Venue? It figures, the other signs clearly mark the meeting location, but this sign doesn’t. Now where could it be?” Lois glanced over the directory carefully.

Clark surreptitiously lowered his glasses and looked around the convention center. “Come on, Lois, the Reeves Venue is located on the upper level.”

Turning, surprised by his quick summation, she started to speak, looked at him and then a slow smile of dawning realization come to her face.

“You know partner, those extra special ‘qualities’ of yours are going to come in handy!”

“We aim to please, Ma’am,” He said imitating a slow Texas drawl.

The couple boarded the escalator to the upper level. After a few minutes of walking through the busy crowd, they located the main lecture room adjacent to the Exhibition Hall. The seats were set in a U-pattern around the raised lectern for guest scientists to present their latest findings and techniques in the field of energy conservation. Behind the lectern was a large screen, no doubt to display color PowerPoint presentations.

Clark stood looked around the large room filled with scientists, their assistants and several attendees. A heavyset middle-aged man wearing a tweed jacket over a white shirt and plaid tie approached the lectern. The audience upon seeing him approach began settling down to listen attentively.

“Hey Clark, let’s grab a seat over there.” Lois said in a whisper only he could hear. It amazed him how quickly she had adapted to his superpowers… especially when it came to helping them get a story no matter how mundane.

Quietly obeying his partner, Clark walked down a row of folding chairs, Lois following closely behind him. After stepping over the outstretched legs of other conference attendees already seated, they found two empty places at the end of the row. The scientist began his lecture in a dry nasal sounding voice. Only five scant minutes passed before both Lois and Clark began yawning from boredom.

“Perry wanted nice ‘crisp’ copy for tonight’s edition from this drone and groan?” Lois rolled her eyes frustration.

“I admit it’s not the most exciting lecture, but at least we don’t have to stay for the entire day. Let’s take some notes and concentrate on the highlights.”

“Clark, the only way his lecture could have highlights is if we set off fireworks under him.” This last was spoken louder than a whisper. In response, one man in front of them requested the reporters to keep quiet. Lois fumed silently, turned on her recorder, since taking notes by hand was out of the question, hoping to find a ‘hook’ for the story.

***

Aykira dressed slowly for her meeting/date with Lex. She had done a great deal of soul searching last night and had come to several decisions. Most of those conclusions had been reached while participating in an early morning kickboxing class at her gym. The previous day’s revelations and the resulting sorrow drained slowly into the background as her lithe body’s sinuously movements worked to relieve the tension. A quick sauna and shower after the workout further eased her anxiety as she prepared to meet Lex.

She had returned from the gym to her apartment building, as she needed to get a couple of items. As she walked into the lobby a young man approached her with a package.

“Excuse me, Ms. Aykira Milan?” The young man asked. He was holding up a photo of her.

“Yes?”

“This is a package from a Mr. Perez at LexCorp. He asked me to give it to no one but you. Please sign here and it’s all yours.” The delivery person handed over the clipboard for her signature. Aykira did as requested then returned the clipboard. The exchange completed, the young man wished her a pleasant morning and departed.

<Radames must have thought this important enough to send via messenger rather than snail mail. Let us see what this package contains.>

Two hours later a rather disconcerted but determined Aykira departed for LexSolar and Dr. Frederick Scott.

Part Sixteen

Aykira decided to treat this meeting with Dr. Scott like any other conference; organized with the proper tools, such as a miniature recorder in her purse and a .380 automatic holstered at the small of her back under her jacket. Her recent knowledge of how he had acquired the crystals for LexSolar made such precautions necessary. Dealing with the brains behind the Shackleton hijacking meant the man was not to be underestimated. Besides, who knew what underworld characters might be behind such a man?

For once traffic to LIP was very light for early morning. The administrative assistant drove up to the main entrance displayed her ID badge, than parked her car in the nearest visitor’s spot.

The lobby was quiet, only Cheryl the receptionist was present, sitting behind her console, and finishing up a phone call. Looking up and seeing Aykira, her features became puzzled and she began looking over her daily appointment book.

“Oh, Ms. Milan! Good morning! We were not expecting you.” Cheryl’s voice sang out.

Aykira smiled gently at the older woman, determined to set her at ease, “Please do not concern yourself. I shall not be here long. Where is Dr. Scott’s office?”

“Level E-258. If you will wait here, Cliff can escort you in.”

Aykira began to object but then thought better of it. Refusal to follow LexSolar security protocol, especially after the recent break-in, would only raise red flags. It also bothered her to be accompanied by one of the guards who had failed to apprehend the thief. The other guard Todd inspired greater confidence. However, she had a strong idea who actually broke into the building, yet right now her only objective was to contact Dr. Scott. She watched the ungainly man walk towards her and again felt annoyance at his incompetence.

“Right this way,” the hulking man rumbled.

The administrative assistant and her escort retraced the steps she had taken only a few days before. She listened half-heartedly as the guard made feeble attempts at small talk, but her responses were terse and matter of fact.

Presently they halted in front of E-258. Cliff knocked on the door and a gruff voice remarked from within. “Go away! I’m in the middle of a meeting!”

The guard turned and shrugged his massive, but sloping shoulders, “Guess he don’t want to talk right now. I’ll take you back to reception. Maybe Cheryl can make an appointment for later.”

Aykira looked up at the man, completely incredulous. “I think not. Excuse me.” Without another word, she placed a firm hand on the doorknob, gave it a brisk turn, pushed the door open and walked inside.

Looking up from his computer, an angry Dr. Scott glowered at the security guard as if he were a particularly distasteful insect, Completely ignoring Aykira, he shouted, “What is the meaning of this?!”

Cliff again shrugged his shoulders, but hesitated to step inside the office. <Perhaps it’s the only movement he really knows.> Aykira thought acidly.

“She wants to see you.” The guard grumbled, as he jerked a thumb at Aykira. “I couldn’t stop her.”

Dr. Scott looked at her as if she too were an insect. “Milan? Why are you here?”

Ignoring the snappish comment, Aykira turned to the security guard. With a hard glint in her hazel eyes, she spoke sharply. “Dr. Scott and I *will* have our meeting. Once we are through, he can escort me off the premises.” Without another word, she stepped into the room and closed the door firmly in Cliff’s face.

Aykira turned to see Scott’s expression, his mouth agape. “All right *Ms.* Milan, what the hell is going on here!” he shouted. “First Luthor calling me in the middle of the night and now his assistant shows up.”

“Oh? Aykira said feigning innocence. “Mr. Luthor did not mention that this morning.”

“Humph! I’m sure Luthor doesn’t tell you *everything*.” Scott snarled, although his voice had lowered considerably.

“My dear Dr. Scott, Lex has taken me into his complete confidence. “Especially regarding,” she hesitated a beat, “the Harmonic Crystals.”

The scientist’s body suddenly went rigid with apprehension. When he finally spoke his voice had returned to its normal tone, without a trace of condescension. “That’s impossible!”

<Careful,> she thought furiously. <Scott, may be egotistical, but he is not stupid. Everything hinges on the next few moments.> With ease of movement she did not feel, Aykira sat down, crossed her long legs, leaned backed languidly, mindful of the gun’s presence and began speaking. “I dislike prattle so allow me to get to the point. It is no wonder General Zeitlin, the Metropolis Police Department and even Superman could not locate the crystals. Here they are quietly ensconced in Luthor’s industrial Park. On April 7th the freighter Shackleton was hijacked of several containers. The majority were microprocessors from the British firm Barontech. Two of those containers held a shipment of crystals - very special crystals originally slated to be used to power the solar panels for Space Station Prometheus 2.”

“It was your task to hire an experienced out-of-the-country hijacker crew to pull off the heist. Since one of the few things LexCorp does not have its hand in are marine submersibles. It fell to you to bribe a certain submariner, a Captain Bowers, into ‘lending’ a mini-sub for the job. I understand Captain Bowers retired from the Navy shortly after the hijacking and has gone away to parts unknown.” Aykira’s eyes flashed. “That must have been quite a retirement package. Do I have your attention?”

The scientist’s face registered shock, but he managed a stiff nod. Of course, he was not aware she had discovered all of this from his purloined computer files. Aykira watched coolly as his white-knuckled hand gripped the chair’s armrest. With amazement bordering on stupefaction, he waited for her to continue.

“For the past three months two teams have been working on projects to perfect a power source for the solar panels. Dr. Amundsen is the temporary head of the legitimate team; he has been working with the government and from all accounts might create the perfect battery to power the solar panels. Meanwhile, ‘the Crystal Team’ of whom you are the leader have worked late, evenings and weekends on creating solar panels powered by the Harmonic Crystals. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” he bit the word out. “You know the whole story, now what brings you here?”

“Mr. Luthor has requested a dozen crystals.”

The short man stood up from his desk. “Has he gone completely ‘round the bend? I gave him *two* last night. How is my team supposed to finish its experiments if he continues to deplete the supply? What does he need them for?”

Looking contrite, Aykira shook her head. “Now that, Dr. Scott, he did not tell me.”

“So perhaps the relationship with him is not a close as you would like me to believe.” The arrogant man stepped closer, staring hard at the visitor.

She brought together her hands in a contemplative gesture, returned the stare with equal hardness, and responded in a chilly barbed tone. “*His* name is on our paychecks. We do what he requests. Give me the Crystals. Otherwise your life, not mine will become… unpleasant.”

***

Dr. Scott drew himself back forcefully. <Those were almost the same words Luthor had used last night.> he thought. Obviously, his request had to be taken seriously. Aykira was the only one he would trust to pick them up for him. It would not do to upset Luthor, otherwise he might send over someone less agreeable, like Asabi. Besides, after tonight he needn’t concern himself with Lex Luthor’s whims, there was no reason to arouse suspicions.

Scott was getting tired of the manipulative power game Ms. Milan was playing. Surreptitiously glancing at his watch, it occurred to him he needed to leave for the energy conference immediately. Intergang preferred promptness with all their ‘associates’.

Cursing internally, Dr. Scott returned to his desk, picked up the phone, contacted the lab and snapped orders to a thoroughly confused lab assistant. “Set aside twelve of the Harmonic Crystals and bring them to my office immediately.” After putting the phone down, Scott looked at his visitor with a cool grimace on his face. “There. I hope you and your precious boss are happy! Say, what would you have done if I refused?”

“If you had gotten any closer to me…I would have shot you.” Aykira replied unruffled.

Sweat broke out on Scott’s forehead. For a brief moment, this quiet ‘fashion plate’ reminded him rather uncomfortably of Angelica Cox. Several tense minutes passed. The room’s occupants did not participate in polite conversation. Both glanced at their watches, each had pressing business elsewhere.

Finally, they heard a hesitant knock at the door. Dr. Scott told the person to enter and a young man nervously walked into the room with a large black metal box under his arm. He laid the box on Scott’s desk and departed as noiselessly as he came.

Without asking, Aykira stood and touched the box with trembling, reverent hands. She had sacrificed and worked so hard for this moment. Finally, it all came down to this. Lifting the lid she glazed at the contents; twelve beautiful white and lavender crystals. Keeping the raised lid between herself and Scott, she removed the ubiquitous silver ring from the index finger of her right hand. With adroit movements, she held it against each crystal, verifying its authenticity. She whispered to herself, “Lex, we have the genuine article.” Whether she was referring to Alexander in her own world or Lex Luthor here, even she did not know.

After a time Dr. Scott snapped. “What’s taking so long? Don’t you trust me?”

“No. But I do thank you for these Crystals. Now please, escort me out of LexSolar.”

“Maybe I should call Mr. Luthor… let him know you’re on the road?”

Her heartbeat faltered for a second. If the scientist reached Lex before she did, the plan would be in a complete shambles. “Do not concern yourself,” was her flat response.

“Fine,” he growled. “Let’s go.”

***

“You got them! The council is going to be shocked and pleased. Aykira Milan, you are a heroine!” A euphoric Bern stared at Aykira over the interdimensional link as she displayed the opened black box, laden with its long awaited treasure. “But how? Yesterday, you said it might take more time.”

“Someday my friend,” she sighed, “over dinner and a chilled bottle of white zinfandel, I shall tell the entire story from beginning to end. Please set up coordinates on the interdimensional transport for the Crystals.”

“Certainly. Certainly. I trust you tied up all loose ends over there?”

“No.” She bowed her head than raised it. “Not exactly.”

Bern stopped working the transport device’s instrumentation and stared at the beautiful woman. A touch of sadness played across her visage. A quizzical look came upon his long face. He hesitated than queried slowly. “What do you mean by, ‘not exactly’?”

Taking a deep breath, she responded. “The crystals are coming over just as we all planned. However, after some consideration, I have decided to remain here.”

The gentle scientist looked directly into the monitor, his face stricken with dread. “But you just… can’t! The average life span on our world is different… twice as long as theirs! My dear, your lovely appearance does not match your age… early sixties is it not? In another five years it will be impossible to conceal the fact that you have not aged. What if something happens to me and return is unattainable? Life over there would be even lonelier then it is now. I would be…” With considerable effort, Bernard Klein took a moment to regain his composure, than continued. “Alexander’s impending marriage is driving you to an extremely rash decision. Please come back. Resume your life and career on *this* world. We…we can work together again.”

Eternity passed as the two colleagues… friends stared at each other across an immeasurable gulf of displaced time and space. On her part, there was so much gratitude. Bern - and to a lesser extent Alexander - were her closet ties to the planet that saw her birth. The enormity of her mission, forced those too few communiqués to be tantalizingly brief. Yet those times reinforced in her mind the importance of the undertaking.

For himself, Aykira seemed the ultimate scientist, sacrificing her personal desires and life to save a loved one and a world. Over the months – on his side - of her departure, he strived to rework the mathematical error that had cast her adrift on an ‘alien’ shore. The incredible weight of that error for all those months taunted him.

“Yes. Alexander has a great deal to do with this decision. But my dear friend, I have *built* a life here, one which has obligations waiting to be fulfilled - paths which must be traveled. Hence I shall remain for another two, possibly four years.”

“But I still do not understand why?”

“I promise to return someday and explain everything. But now it is time for me to truly *live* my life here.” Her lips drew into a tearful smile. “Hold me to that dinner.” She placed the box along with its beacon device on the floor. “Send the beacon back after you retrieve the crystals. Oh, and Bern - one last favor?

“Name it.”

“Please tell Alexander - I hope he and Toni are happy together. Good-bye for now my friend; be well.”

Further words were useless. Bern watched as Aykira quit her study, shutting the door firmly behind her.

When the long sought after crystals arrived in Bern’s world, Aykira Milan had departed for her rendezvous with Lex Luthor.

***

Lois threw up her hand in frustration. “That’s it! If another egghead talks about fossil fuels using ten dollar words I will scream! Let’s get back to the Planet!”

Her partner had to admit, the past two speakers were so dry and deathly boring they nearly put him to sleep. Between them, there were enough notes and recordings for three articles. With the evening edition deadline looming, it was time for them to head back to the Planet and write up the story.

Gathering their belongings, the reporters stepped over a number of disgruntled seated attendees and made their way out of the Reeves Venue. Upon exiting the venue, they passed through the main Exhibition Hall towards the escalator. Lois strode through the crowds purposefully, her partner walking beside her, his hand resting easily on the small of her back. Clark looked admiringly at his beautiful and determined partner. This might be a routine story, but she had every intention of giving it her all, it was one of the many reasons why he had fallen so deeply in love with her.

The escalator ride from level three to level one was uneventful; Clark’s vision took in the vast numbers of people walking about the Coates Center. Unconsciously he tried to listen out for any potential rescues, but the noise intensity of the busy place made it difficult. As they stepped off the escalator, Clark took in the delicious aromas wafting over from the food court, which was adjacent to the coat check area. He wondered if Lois was hungry when suddenly his partner stopped and nudged Clark with the sling. “Look, over there by the coat check! It’s Dr. Scott!”

“Dr. Scott? Who is Dr. Scott?” Clark asked while adjusting his glasses.

“It was his printer at LexSolar which provided all that information about the hijacking. Oh my, the guy with him is Cameron Axelrod, Solar Energy expert.” She nodded toward the tall, rugged looking man standing beside his shorter colleague. “He’s one of the shady scientists in Jack’s report. This Axelrod guy is definitely not in the same league as Bernie Klein. According to the background check, he is not above corporate scientific espionage purely for profit. Clark, listen in to their conversation, maybe it’ll lead to something.”

“Hey Lois, this *is* an energy conference and they are scientists who specialize in solar energy. Maybe they’re talking shop?”

“Yeah, when pigs fly! Come on, listen in for two minutes?” She pleaded. “Then we can head back to the office.”

Clark was about to focus his super hearing toward the two men, when suddenly, a surprising third party walked up to the group. Both reporters gasped to see Lucky Leon talking quietly with the others.

“Isn’t he supposed to be in jail?” they both chimed in at once.

“Last I heard.” Clark muttered as he looked at his partner.

“We can talk to Bill about this later. I say we tail them. Who knows who else might crawl out of the woodwork? Hear anything interesting?” Her voice fairly tingled with excitement.

Clark face wore a mask of intense concentration, than shaking his head in disappointment he replied. “No, there’s a lot of background noise. It’s kind of hard to single out one conversation. Closing the distance between us and them should help.”

In such a crowd of people, it was easy to move closer to the trio; still they had to be cautious. Lucky Leon might spot the reporters and warn his companions. Lois quickly grabbed a couple of free caps from a vendor’s booth and placed them on their heads. The colorful caps provided excellent cover as comparable ones worn by other men and women wearing business attire similar to Lois and Clark’s.

“Solar Energy Sails?” Clark said as he looked at the title written across the cap’s brim than donned it.

Lois smirked than said, “Come on Clark, this *is* an energy conference, the caps will help us blend in. I’ll get my jacket, it’ll give you a chance to listen!”

Guardedly, the partners eased over to the far side of the coat check. While Lois handed her token to the waiting attendant, Clark focused on the trio’s conversation.

***

“What do you mean the crystals are fourteen short? The deal was we get *all* of them.” Cameron Axelrod spoke in a thick Bostonian accent with clipped, harsh tones.

Dr. Scott, looking very uncomfortable, but endeavoring to hold his own with Axelrod, responded. “Yeah, well, Luthor’s money footed the bill for the original theft. If it had not been for him, we wouldn’t have any crystals at all! When he and that irritating assistant of his requested them I couldn’t refuse, it would be too suspicious. Besides Cam, there’s plenty to go around! When and where do we meet tonight?

Cameron, only slightly mollified for the moment pointed his chin to Leon. “First you tell us Luthor has nothing to do with this, then you say he wants the crystals. Get your lies straight! As long as we get the bulk of the crystals, understand?” Jerking his thumb towards Leon, he said. “This is the man with the answers. Where and when does the ‘exchange’ take place, Leon?”

“Best place possible…tomorrow night Metropolis Harbor’s Pier 17.” The Russian responded without his usual enthusiasm.

The short man glared up at his taller companion, “But that’s where we robbed the Shackleton! Are you crazy! What’s with the change of plans? It was supposed to be tonight!”

“Relax, Frederick! A *slight* change only! Friend Cameron has arranged special transportation for the crystals. Why worry? Police aren’t going to be looking for us. The robbery was months ago. Be there with *all* the remaining crystals at nine o’clock sharp tomorrow night. Dr. Cameron and the rest of us will be expecting you.” Leon placed a beefy hand on Scott’s shoulder and smiled. “After all, there is much money on the table. Once the crystals are in our possession, Scott will be free of all gambling debts and can travel anywhere he wishes, no longer held back by men like Lex Luthor.”

Dr. Scott’s bland face slowly took on the appearance of a man who feels justified for all his actions. “Thank you, Leon. It’s good to know someone understands.” He looked coldly at Cameron, the last comment aimed at him.

“Fine. Fine. We see you tomorrow night.” Leon slipped back into his role of a friendly Russian teddy bear. He smiled broadly and shook Dr. Scott’s hand, then sent him on his way.

***

“Quick Clark! Scott’s getting away.” Lois had been anxiously watching the exchange after retrieving her jacket and was ready to follow the errant scientist.

“Wait a second! There might be more to the conversation.” Her partner strained to hear more then gave up, the two men had drifted into the sea of humanity.

Clark looked around for the scientist, but could find no sign of the man. He lowered his glasses and proceeded to scan the building. Anxious moments later, he looked into Lois’ questioning face. In a disappointed voice he said, “Dr. Scott got away, all the doors and some of the walls in this building were painted with lead based paint.” He proceeded to fill Lois in on the conversation among the three men.

“Great! But at least now we have a link between the crystals, Lex and his assistant Aykira. I told you she had something to do with the theft!” Her brown eyes twinkled with triumph.

Clark looked down at the excited woman before him, ignoring the multitudes of people and excessive noise. Bending down he whispered, a smile in his husky voice. “Score another one for Lois Lane’s sharply honed reporter instincts.”

“Yes! Now help me into my jacket please, we have to get back to the Planet before Perry starts screaming, ‘Great shades of Elvis’!”

***

Lois and Clark bounded out of the elevator and walked briskly down the ramp. They passed a surprised Applegate who nimbly avoided the partners as they raced to Jack’s empty cubicle.

“Jack!” Lois’ voice bellowed into the newsroom. “*Where* is that kid?”

Diane looked around from behind her monitor and piped up. “He has to be about somewhere, its late afternoon. Maybe he went to get a snack?”

“Thanks, Diane.” The reporter said as she put down her briefcase and booted up the computer. Rolling her eyes, Lois groaned inwardly <The biggest story of the year is demanding to be written and that kid is taking a break? Wait till I get my hands on him!> Outwardly, she turned to her partner and said crisply, “Right. This story for Perry needs to be written up, let’s compare notes, check our facts, and knock it out!”

“Yes Ma’am!” Clark smiled his signature heartbreaking grin.

She wanted to melt whenever he did that, but right now was the time for pounding out the article. Sitting at their desks the reporters started their separate writing preparation rituals. Lois removed a fresh pencil from her box of supplies. She always felt more like a writer with a razor-sharp No. 2 in her hand. Clark removed his jacket and laid it over the back of his chair. He rolled up his sleeves, turned on the computer, and started working on a rough draft.

They walked back and forth between their desks, looking over each other’s shoulder, double-checking the names of various speakers and the titles of their speeches. Like a well-oiled piece of machinery, the newspaper journalist team of Lane and Kent bent to the task of producing a first-rate article, regardless of how unimportant the subject matter was to them. In the back of Lois’ mind, she pondered. <If these crystals were recovered and their abilities properly harnessed, the fear of global warming would become a thing of the past.>

In the midst of their writing, Jack came over clutching a thick manila folder in his hand. “Hey, Miss Lane! Here you go; more information on Frederick Scott, physicist. Man, I have more money in the bank than he does! Guess that’s what happens to gamblers.”

Clark took the folder and scanned its contents. “This is great… and scary. No wonder Scott is playing fast and loose with Intergang.”

His partner read over the material and very slowly a smile, the sweetness of which only a cat with a canary could appreciate, spread across her face. “Oh boy, this story is getting bigger every minute! Let’s finish this other one Farmboy! Than we can start drafting an article about Scott and company that’ll take the Planet’s circulation through the roof! Thanks Jack! You’re out of the doghouse.”

Nonplussed, the young man replied. “You’re welcome. I didn’t know I was in one.” His mouth quirked into a half smile, than quickly caught the ‘Mad Dog’ expression on Lois’ face. Jack wisely did an about face and beat a hasty retreat.

A scant forty minutes after the partners had strode down the ramp; the story arrived in Perry’s inbox - with a full twenty minutes to spare before the evening edition’s deadline. This despite Lois’ insistent determination to peck out the story one-handed on her keyboard.

“Whew! The article is done.” A pleased expression of satisfaction spread across Clark’s face. “Let’s hope Perry doesn’t give us another assignment like that for awhile.”

“Yeah.” Lois responded after carefully taking a handful of M&M’s out of the candy jar. “With this new information the investigation into the Shackleton hijacking *and* those blasted crystals ought to get a jumpstart!”

At that instant, Clark’s desk phone rang out, causing the duo to jump. Clark walked over to his desk and picked up the receiver.

“Clark Kent. Daily Planet.”

<<Good Afternoon Mr. Kent. It’s Captain Maynard, General Zeitlin’s adjutant. Since we cannot get in contact with Superman, I once again need to call you. Anything new about the crystals?>>

“Captain, Superman talked to me only a few minutes ago regarding a lead. He plans on following up and getting back to us.”

<<I see. That’s all well and good Mr. Kent, but I am sure you are aware of the military and possible terrorist applications the crystals have. Those of us at the Pentagon would sleep easier knowing they have been returned where they belong.>> The captain’s voice was tight with strain.

A heavy sigh escaped the reporter’s body, “Yes. I can pass that message onto him.” The two men exchanged closing comments and ended the conversation.

Clark rotated his shoulders in an attempt to release the tension built up from the discussion. His partner noticed and came over. Without a word, she began a one handed massage on his tight back muscles. “Poor baby,” she murmured, “your back feels like a pile of rocks.”

“More like steel.” Her partner deadpanned.

Instantly the reporters both began to giggle like a couple of school kids sharing a ridiculous joke.

***

Jimmy, carrying his beloved camera, having just returned from assignment, looked over to them and smiled. <Looks like life is back to normal for the ‘Hottest Team in Town’.> The newsroom had not been the same without the easy banter between Lane and Kent. He had noticed ever since CK had arrived at the Daily Planet, Lois seemed to have softened. It had been a welcome change.

***

At that moment, the elevator doors slid open, revealing a disgruntled Perry White and close on his heels, Inspector Bill Henderson. Lois, seeing the lanky, laconic police officer, was about to shout out a witty greeting, when she noticed the man’s face was more dour than usual. The remark died undeclared in her throat. He nodded a brief acknowledgement and continued following Perry into his office.

Lois, grasped the pencil tightly in her right hand, faced her partner and said. “Um, this *cannot* be good.”

The words had barely escaped her mouth, when Perry stuck his gray head out his office and called. “Lois. Clark. Can I see you for a moment?” The two exchanged looks, shut off their respective computers, and walked into Perry’s office. As soon as they entered, Perry closed the door and shut the blinds. A sign to all in the bullpen - the occupants were not to be disturbed.

***

Jimmy sauntered over to Jack’s cramped cubicle. The photographer looked at his protégé and spoke softly. “I don’t like that look on Chief’s face, I’ve seen it before, and it’s never good. Plus Inspector Henderson’s in the office.”

“Do you suppose it has something to do with the article they’re working on?” Jack asked.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned since those two partnered up, it’s that you’ll never know what to expect next from Lois and Clark! Come on, I’ll help with that last piece of research for Diane’s article.” Consequently, the two young men bent to the task of finishing Jack’s research, putting out of their minds whatever was taking place behind Perry’s office door.

***

Part Seventeen

Lex Luthor sat patiently, waiting for Aykira to arrive. He found it oddly comforting to sit on the granite steps of the great museum and simply observe people in small clusters going about their lives. They walked up and down the expansive entry stairs of the museum. <Was it only two days ago I felt superior to all these gentle common folk?> He mused to himself. With earnest longing, Lex wished he was like them… ignorant of their life’s end.

He observed intently the traffic as Metro cabbies drove on the active street skillfully avoiding busy pedestrians rushing about the city, only concerned with the cares of their lives. Gaudily painted buses packed with tourists from every point on the globe, stopped in front of the massive building disgorging their excitedly chattering occupants. Once the task was complete, the drivers eased the large vehicles expertly through four tight lanes of traffic.

The buildings surrounding the great museum seemed to mirror its massive appearance. The area had been built during the turn of the nineteenth century. The slightly greenish hint of oxidation on the rooftops was the only indication of age on the otherwise pristinely kept edifices. One of the ancient structures boasted of an extensive garden on the rooftop. Lex knew that to be the case, as the penthouse’s female owner had given Lex a tour of that beautiful garden… as well as a private tour of its interior rooms. He regretted that liaison as he regretted so much in his life this particular afternoon.

Everything around him held a new intensity of meaning; a small tow-headed child hanging adoringly onto her father’s hand. A determined sweaty runner pounded his way through the crowded city street. Noisy excited schoolchildren tumbled out of a big yellow bus, under the watchful eyes of their teachers. Along the sidewalks, street artists displayed their wares; everything from drawings of the Metropolis skyline, to hand thrown pottery, to the latest fad in porkpie straw hats.

The wind blew a gentle refreshing breeze over his body while the brilliant sun of early summer shone down. He had traveled all over the world’s continents, but never once took the time to appreciate simple gifts of nature. Alas, he had been far too busy chasing the next business deal or some meaningless and empty pleasure.

He mused sadly; how might his honest, hard-working parents have perceived his success? Or rather, how might they have perceived his methods of achieving that success?

The ebb and flow of life in Metropolis moved pass him, ignorant that Lex Luthor’s time was running out.

He fervently searched the crowds looking for the one person who was now his lifeline. Aykira… where was Aykira? Suddenly, he spotted her moving effortlessly past a glass enclosed bus shelter displaying a museum ad extolling the wonders of 18th century Korean pottery. She looked divine in an intricately hand knitted raspberry and cream pullover and exquisitely fitted blue jeans topped off with a raspberry hued scarf loosely tied around her neck. Her black hair was done up in a twisted braid, perfect for the changeable early summer weather.

As the object of his heart’s desire drew closer, one bitter reprimanding thought ran through his mind. <Why did I wait so long to reveal my feelings?>

She approached him with gleaming hazel eyes. Lex mused, <Does this magnificent creature pity me? No, I trust my abilities and could not have misjudged her so greatly. Whatever it was the lady wants to say, I will listen with an open mind and heart. Nothing earthly will cause me to withdraw last night’s proposal. Truly, for the first time in my life, love’s gentle embrace enfolds me.> He touched a protective hand to his jacket pocket and smiled.

***

With a straightforward confidence Aykira did not feel, she walked up the expansive granite steps and smiled tremulously at Lex, as he stood and grasped her outstretched hand. By the concerned gaze of those obsidian eyes, she perceived the melancholy look on her face was evident. Determined to begin their rendezvous with a light air, Aykira spoke with wry amusement in her voice.

“Lex, black jeans and a white shirt are a dangerous combination on you.”

“Thank you. Let us not dance around words, what is wrong my love?” He said as they embraced.

“A… as you were last night, so am I today. Where do I begin?”

Lex indicated an empty black wrought iron and wooden bench at the bottom of the granite stairs. Silently they made their way downward then sat facing each other, hand in hand. Lex spoke very softly, “Concentrate on the place best to begin, and then start.”

Aykira nodded, took a minute to calm herself, then started speaking. “Everything I am about to reveal will sound utterly fantastic. However, if our relationship is to work, Lex, there must be complete honesty between us. To begin with, I knew all about your nefarious business dealings, both before I began to work for you and quite a few afterwards. Nigel St. John and Mrs. Cox were only too happy to provide all the information I needed, especially after the correct persuasion was applied.”

Lex’s mouth dropped open in stunned shock. “H… how. How did they…”

She held up a slim brown hand, requesting his silence. “Neither the ex-MI6 agent nor your former assistant had much of a choice in the matter. They were out-maneuvered by someone… not of this planet…this Earth.” Reading the expression of shocked disbelief on his face, she clarified her words quickly. “No, I am *not* from Krypton, but from *another* Earth, a parallel universe. A world which benignly exists side by side with this one. There are differences, some subtle, some not so.”

Shocked, and not a little bit frightened, Lex snatched his hands away from her. The engaging, intimate moment between them passed. “Aykira, I do not find this amusing. It is all too much.”

“Sadly, it is all too true.” The graceful woman turned, staring at the man before her anxiously waiting. She pondered how much to reveal. “I came here six years ago to help my world…and save the m… everyone I love.

“My home is planet Earth…an alternative reality Earth. With the help of a brilliant invention, an interdimensional transport device, I was able to cross over from my universe to yours. My mission was to enter Barontech’s facilities in Leeds, England and remove twelve Harmonic Crystals to take back to my world for study and replication. Unfortunately, the calculations were off ever so slightly, causing me to arrive in Metropolis six years and some months prior to their creation.”

Gazing at Lex for the briefest of moments, Aykira paused to draw in a breath. “Yes, six very long, lonely, but productive years. Now, as you say, let me start at the ‘true’ beginning.”

As Perry White began to have a serious dialogue with his top investigative reporting team, in his office at the Daily Planet, on a certain bench near the Greystroke Museum, a rather incredulous Lex Luthor continued listening to the strangest story he had ever heard.

“Pollution of the environment forced humanity to face the very real possibility of destroying the Earth. In an unprecedented effort, all nations banded together to discontinue using fossil fuels. The decision to utilize wind power and solar energy were sufficient for a decade or so, unfortunately, the technology could not keep up with the world’s demands. It was critical to find a more efficient method of using solar energy.”

“What about nuclear energy?” Lex, now thoroughly drawn into the narrative, inquired.

Aykira suppressed a shudder. “Two major nuclear accidents had occurred years before; a small city in Nova Scotia was vaporized. Our council imposed a strict quarantine immediately. The surrounding land shall not be visited, much less inhabitable for untold centuries. Another accident at a power plant in Los Angles created shock waves that nearly caused America’s west coast to plunge into the Pacific Ocean. Thankfully, the Man of Steel was able to prevent it from happening… barely. Needless to say nuclear energy shall never be seriously considered as a power source again.”

“Our brightest scientists from S.T.A.R. Labs and Barontech joined forces to create a source of cheap, clean energy. Without going into extensive technical details, suffice to say after several years of experimentation the crystals were conceived and the two laboratories set up assessments by the hundreds.”

“Oh, those were exhilarating days! Our teams worked relentlessly on improving the crystal’s ability to harness energy from the sun. A number of years passed, but at last experiments moved from within the laboratory to ‘real life’ tests: engine mock-ups, power trials, and finally converting established engines to accept the crystals. Each new experiment yielded fresh, impressive results. The Harmonic Crystals technology was applied to car engines, building generators and small single engine planes. Our most ambitious trial was powering a city the size of Metropolis for one hour, with a crystal the size of my fist.”

Aykira watched his reaction carefully. Despite Luthor’s original desire to deny her tale, hearing about such amazing feats of technology and engineering shocked him into silence. She knew he was calculating the long-term benefits, both financial and environmental, such an energy source presented.

“Our crystals were on track to permanently solve mankind’s energy problems. Bern was confident the crystals could be mass-produced within five years. It was a monumental achievement.

“Who is Bern?” Her companion inquired.

Aykira broke off speaking, and understanding that revealing her world held doppelgangers of this alternative world’s inhabitants might prove overwhelming, she merely said. “He is the genius behind the interdimensional transport device.”

“He must be a brilliant man.” Lex answered soberly.

She nodded absently and proceeded with the narrative. “It was shortly after the city trial that *all* the crystals were returned to Barontech’s main physics laboratory for additional tests, when the storage facility experienced a dreadful catastrophe.” Aykira stopped; her voice quaked ever so slightly. “The entire team was killed instantly. It destroyed everything: notes, exhibits, test results, and every crystal then in existence. It was an act of coldblooded corporate sabotage. I will not complicate an already outlandish story with excessive details of what happened next. Suffice to say the persons responsible were apprehended and punished to the fullest extent of the law for their offenses.”

***

“Whoever planned and carried out such a crime must be insane.” Lex’s voice was surprisingly harsh.

He watched as she suddenly bolted up from the bench, the athletic body shaking in remembered rage and shock. “Yes, it was a crime. Against all those innocent lives snuffed out; simply because a rival technology firm could not achieve the same answers in time to please some stockholders!” It took a moment or two to compose herself; Lex arose, walked over and held her icy hand, caressing it gently.

This was no performance; he realized without a doubt, Aykira was telling the truth. Still he was a man who dealt in hard evidence. As of yet she had not provided any solid facts to her narrative. Yes, she knew about the crystals, but she could have acquired that knowledge from her position at LexCorp.

As if Aykira could read his thoughts, she smiled weakly at him, drew in a ragged breath than spoke. “I am getting ahead of myself again. Let me show you something.”

She removed the silver ring with the etchings from her finger and placed it in the palm of her hand. The ring began to glow than unexpectedly a picture of one of the crystals she had examined in Dr. Scott’s office appeared just above the ring.

“What is this… a hologram?” Lex asked in surprise.

“Yes. A technology that is still greatly underdeveloped here. As you can see this is a three dimensional picture of a crystal. One of a dozen… I acquired this morning.”

***

Perry’s office felt claustrophobic. Normally whenever Henderson showed up at the Planet, it was to share additional information *after* a case. However, today, the tension within the office was uncomfortably palatable.

After folding his tall frame like a pocket knife into one of Perry’s plaid covered chairs, the police detective, without preamble, came straight to the point. “I have to ask, Lane, what were you doing near LexSolar the morning of the break-in? The officer who spoke with you said something funny I couldn’t get out of my head. Your hair was wet and matted down... almost like a hat or wig had been on it fairly recently.

“Huh? What does my *hair* have to do with anything?” Lois replied. “For crying out loud, it was *raining*! I didn’t have my umbrella, so my hair got wet! As for why I was there, I told Perry this earlier - checking out a lead.” Her anxious eyes darted to Clark, pleading for help.

Her partner immediately picked up the ball… and ran with it. “It’s true, Bill, she was helping me follow up on a lead for Superman. After all, *he* couldn’t go into the hotel and expect a confidential source to meet him in public. Remember, the microprocessors stolen from the Shackleton over two almost three months ago?” Lois gazed at Clark in gratitude.

“Oh yeah, those mysterious crates of microprocessors owned by LexCorp,” Henderson said thoughtfully. “The ones everybody and their brother has attempted to locate. Seems like *nobody* has been able to discover the whereabouts of those things.”

“As a matter of fact,” Clark continued, warming to his subject. “I just got off the phone with General Zeitlin’s adjutant, Captain Maynard. He wanted to know if either Lois and I or Superman had any additional leads. The military is very anxious to recover those particular crates. Anyhow, Lois was in effect working for the military, so neither of us could mention it to anyone. It was on a need-to-know basis, a case of national security... ” Clark said this last with a slight shrug of his shoulder. As if, the case meant little or nothing to him. <Anything to get Bill off our scent.> He thought to himself.

***

Henderson’s facial expression changed perceptibly to one of relief. Regardless of how often he and Lane would scrap, there was a grudging respect for the prickly female reporter. Lois had a long history of breaking and entering into places, especially corrupt corporations and criminal lairs. Places the Metropolis Police Department would long to enter, but could not without copious amounts of paperwork. However, because she had always handed the evidence over to him, he deliberately ignored her behavior. This time it was different. Her clandestine activities might possibly come under scrutiny from groups considerably above his pay grade - especially if Lex Luthor started making waves.

The Inspector obviously could tell the inky newspaper ‘wall of silence’ had been drawn protectively around her. Especially since Lane was allowing her partner to do all the talking. He decided it was better to permit the reporters to pursue the case… for the time being.

“Humph! National security? I figured there had to be something to ‘Mad Dog’ Lane’s backing down after being told the break-in was a false alarm.” Henderson stood up and was getting ready to leave when he pointed at Lois’ arm and asked. “When does the sling come off?”

“Tomorrow morning! But, if I can see the doctor after work, tonight!” Lois answered.

“That’s good. I’d ask you how it happened, but the *explanation* might come under the title of ‘national security’. According to one of the LexSolar security guards, he discharged his weapon and apparently hit the intruder, since blood was found on the scene.” Perry’s office was plunged into guilty silence as the reporters and their boss refused to respond to Henderson’s words. The stillness was all that Henderson needed to confirm his suspicions. “When you two print up that article, I expect to hear the *whole* story… behind the story.” With a curt nod to Perry, the detective departed the office.

“Judas Priest!” Perry’s voice boomed after the door closed. “Lois. Clark. What in Sam Hill is going on around here? Bill Henderson is a good man. I hated lying to him.”

“Chief, you didn’t actually ‘lie’ to him.” Lois said, looking contrite.

“Besides we *are* assisting General Zeitlin in this investigation… since he asked for Superman’s help.” Clark added.

“That’s right!” His partner jumped in. “Anyhow, that science convention you sent us on yielded more than just a *crisp* story. We saw Dr. Scott there… with Lucky Leon!”

“Lucky Leon? The former KGB spy and Intergang assassin turned cheesy gadget entrepreneur? Isn’t he supposed to be in jail?” Perry wasn’t sure how many more surprises this conversation with his reporters could possibly yield.

“Yeah, that’s what we thought too,” Lois snorted in derision. “Urgh! Clark, we were supposed to ask Henderson why Leon is walking around free! Anyhow, Scott is the scientist whose office I… um… visited. His computer contained an extensive amount of information on the crystals. The printout revealed a lot of information, above all else, the name of the men who stole them! Dr. Scott is meeting those men at Pier 17 tomorrow for the payoff. Tailing him tomorrow night will lead us to the crystals and their underworld purchasers!”

Perry jumped out of his chair, his face flushed with excitement and started to yell, when he remembered his blood pressure. Because he tried to calm himself somewhat before he spoke, his voice was considerably lower than it would have been. “Wait a minute. Crystals? *What* crystals? I thought only computer equipment was stolen off the Shackleton? You two *knew* who stole the equipment and that slipped your minds while Henderson was here? What are you trying to do? Kill your ole’ Editor?” He bellowed, all attempts at remaining calm vanished.

“Uh, we can tell you about the crystals later, Perry? They are the real reason why the ship was hijacked in the first place.” Lois answered.

“Besides, Lois can’t admit to finding the evidence, Chief.” Clark shook his head forlornly. “The documents were completely soaked from the heavy downpour during her getaway. We were able to make out just enough information to point us in the right direction. Since she obtained the evidence illegally, no way will it stand up in court. We have to catch Dr. Scott red-handed with the crystals and Intergang’s cohorts while the transaction is taking place.”

“Intergang? That’s the group Diana Stride supposedly worked for?” Perry asked.

“No supposed about it Chief; they are real and tomorrow night we are going to prove it.” Clark’s voice was calm, but determination was heard in it rumbling tones.

***

The long, eventful afternoon was steadily fading away as the couple sat on the bench. The numerous vendors and artisans were packing up their stands and museum visitors began exiting the building. Aykira could sense Lex’s mind whirling as every new facet of the story unfolded. Presenting him with evidence of the ring’s ability to create holograms was the final proof she needed for him to believe her account. Nevertheless, she continued; otherwise, she could never summon the courage to speak so candidly again. “As on this world, a lab technician discovered he had a benign brain tumor. His physician and the company’s cleared him for work. With the provision, he report in for monthly follow-ups. After three such examinations it was discovered the tumor’s growth had ceased and was reduced in size. Within six months, all traces of the affliction had vanished.”

“Of course all manner of neurological tests were run on the young man but everything came back within normal limits. After narrowing down the search for why this was happening, it was noted, all personnel working on the crystals never experienced headaches of any kind…except oddly enough caffeine withdrawal.”

“Now that is a pity.” Lex remarked with a dry bit of humor.

An odd little smile quirked the corners of Aykira’s mouth, this narrative did have a faint touch of absurdity. “Yes, think how many coffee drinkers would love that! Unfortunately, it was impossible to keep such a discovery under wraps from the medical community. Neurologists with patients, some of them quite young, suffering from incurable tumors, converged on our laboratory in Leeds, England. The crystals were able to cure or remarkably slow down most cases, merely by long-term exposure. Only those m… most advanced stages cases were incurable.” Words started tumbling out of her mouth in a torrent. Aykira’s habitual calm wavered than crumbled. “If I had known about those damnable crystals months ago, we could have stopped the tumor, saved your life. Lex, th…this is so unfair!”

His dark eyes flashed for a moment with apprehension, remembering his upcoming surgery, however his voice revealed enormous restraint. “No, my love, it is *not* your fault, I ignored all the signs. How could you have known? Every time you wanted to help, I pushed you away. Never blame yourself.” He was deeply touched by her compassion for him and once again, he regretted precious time wasted.

***

For some time they sat on the bench motionless. Aykira kept her head on Lex’s chest, listening to the ebb and flow of his breathing. She wanted to stay in that position for hours enveloped in his warmth. Truly, she wanted to leave this hard bench behind and be somewhere quiet and safe, away from the concerns of crystals, covert missions, and wayward scientists. Their time was so fleeting, Aykira desired to be at home, warmly wrapped in the comfort of scented satin sheets - with Lex by her side.

After a few minutes, she lifted her head from his chest, wiped her tear streaked face, and began speaking again. “The explosion at our Barontech facilities contained every single crystal on the planet. Decades of research brutally annihilated within seconds. It was the height of arrogance, that we hadn’t shared our research with others. As it was, only the most rudimentary notes were available in our Metropolis location. We would have to start again. By that time, another from our remaining team discovered he was afflicted with a malignant brain tumor; fortunately, it was in the early stages. However, he could not possibly survive waiting for us to reconstruct our research. Our plant’s energy demands had not abated. If anything, they had increased a hundredfold. There were also the medical benefits of the crystals; countless lives were at stake.”

“I’m beginning to understand the extreme desperation of your planet’s inhabitants,” Lex whispered. “To have the solution in your grasp and have it snatched away… incredible.”

“For several years your world had been under observation by Bern and his associate… Alexander. It was more of a hobby rather than serious study. After the destruction of the crystals, Bern noticed there were similar scientific discoveries. They turned their observations to the science labs of Leeds in general and Barontech in particular. Imagine their relief upon discovering Harmonic Crystals research was taking place there as well. Bern, Alexander and I worked to conceive of a daring plan, to acquire a small number of crystals from your world for replication.”

“The crystals can be duplicated?”

“Yes. However, acquiring them constituted our biggest problem. Bern’s newly developed interdimensional device was our only hope. We needed someone to step into the dimensional corridor that separated your universe from ours. Since no one knew where the ‘agent’ might end up working, the person had to be extremely well versed in physics, computer programming, and design, specifically microprocessors, finance and office administrational duties. The agent also had to blend seamlessly with the local population. Bern wanted to go himself, but I volunteered instead. With the Leeds’ team gone, Bern was our remaining chief scientist in the Harmonic Crystals research. If I did not return, the loss was not too great.”

***

After spending a few more minutes with their harried boss, Lois and Clark walked back to their desks. Lois picked up the thick manila folder with her right hand, and said, “Care to go over this file in-depth?”

“No problem. The conference room is clear. Let’s read it together.” They stepped into the room and shut the door, Clark lowered the shutters and began going over the file at super speed. Lois watched bemused. <Super powers are not just for leaping over tall buildings. Think of all the hours of research time we’ll save!>

“So partner, what did you come up with?” Lois asked when Clark closed the file.

“It’s just as Jack said, Dr. Scott is in a very bad way financially. All of his credit cards are charged to the limit. He borrowed cash against them to pay off his gambling debts. According to this, he even owes your friend Louie, a cool hundred grand.”

“Ouch! No wonder he’s selling the crystals. Louie is nice to people who *don’t* owe him money. After all, ‘he knows guys who know guys’.” She said mimicking the loan shark’s voice.

“Yeah, but I don’t think Dr. Scott is interested in getting to *know* any of those guys,” her partner countered.

“Hmmm, Clark we should confront him now and get the crystals. He’s probably scared to death of those Intergang creeps. Besides if Lex discovers he’s selling the crystals, the Metropolis Police department might be his best bet.”

“No, we discussed this already with Perry. Scott *must* to be apprehended in the act of selling the crystals to Lucky Leon. Otherwise, the charges might not stick, then we can’t convince him to turn state’s evidence on Luthor. Dr. Scott is our key to this entire investigation. Look, let’s call Captain Maynard and have him put a very discreet tail on the good doctor.

“Why not contact Henderson? He is our best ally in the MPD.” Lois responded.

Clark shook his head, “Normally, Bill would be the first person to contact. But, this case has gone light years beyond corporate espionage. General Zeitlin and probably the NSA need to be involved. Especially now with Lucky Leon taking an active interest in acquiring the crystals for Intergang.”

“Okay we’ll play it that way. While you’re talking to Maynard, I’m going to call your buddy Dr. Pete Ross and make an appointment to get this sling removed tonight. Than I could do with a bite to eat and *you* are buying, Farmboy.”

Lois felt like a giddy teen-ager with melting insides as she watched Clark smile that sweet sincere grin of his as they departed the conference room.

***

The shadows of the surrounding trees grew longer as the afternoon waned on, yet Aykira continued her narrative. “Our security council did not relish the concept of stealing from another world. The plan to ‘smash and grab’ some of this Earth’s crystals was deemed too dangerous and Bern was ordered to destroy the device and his notes.”

“Sounds like politicians try to have the upper hand in your world as well as in mine.” Lex said sarcastically.

“True, but the council had never gone up against us before. Perhaps it was arrogance on our part, but Bern, Alexander and I were angered by the shortsightedness of their decision. So rather than destroy the device, we dismantled it in Leeds and rebuilt it in our New Troy facility.”

“What if the Council had discovered your plans and destroyed the machine while you were still here?” Lex’s question hung in the air. Aykira seemed reluctant to answer and was impatient to reach the part of her story directly involving him.

“After several months of training and studying the customs of this Earth I was ready. I stepped into Bern’s machine, wearing my beacon device to pull me instantly back in case anything went wrong.”

Luthor looked at her hands and examined the ubiquitous adornment on her right index finger. He touched it gently. “I take it this ring is the beacon device?”

“Yes, exactly! I appeared in Metropolis at night in an area not far from the Coates Center. I approached a newspaper stand and read the date. My heart sank… imagine my shock to discover my arrival was six and a half years *before* the crystals would arrive in Metropolis! Bern’s calculations were off by a mere decimal point. A tiny error had marooned me on this Earth until the right day arrived. Using the beacon device, I sent a coded message explaining my situation. Both Alexander and Bern were powerless to assist me; needless to say, I panicked.”

“Why not return home? Have this Bern correct the problem and send you back?”

“Prior to entering the device, my body’s molecular structure was attuned temporarily to your world’s environment. It would cause permanent neurological damage, should I go through the process again. Returning and then coming back was impossible, only one round-trip ticket per customer. There was no one else with the precise background to attempt my mission. Remember we were doing this against our government’s wishes.”

Aykira moved a trembling hand over her face, as if to mentally brush away unpleasant memories. “There was no safe place for me to go. My mission required me to be here long enough to steal the crystals and return home. Imagine…no ID, credit cards or driver’s license. Respectable hotels frown upon lone women without luggage, who can only pay in cash. My first night in your world was spent on the rooftop of an old brownstone I managed to break into. The rather seedy neighborhood was Suicide Slope.”

“No wonder you are so determined to see that project cleared by the Executive Board.” Lex whispered softly.

“True. What a terrible experience! Crouching on a sagging roof in the midst of smelly rags, broken bottles, surrounded by mouse droppings and heaven knows what other vermin, I vowed to succeed. Frightened, shivering with cold and utterly alone, I was too terrified to shut my eyes. Lex, it may sound clichéd, but it was the most miserable night of my life.”

***

Lex took her hand and gripped it tightly. She had survived an incredible ordeal to accomplish her goal. Nonetheless, he certainly did not expect this turn of events. It meant traveling between her world and his was out of the question. Should she go back to her own Earth rather than marry him they would never meet again. The thought filled him with a deep sense of loss and trepidation. <Is that why she is telling me this amazing story? Does Aykira plan on returning to her world, leaving me to face my last days alone?> Lex refused to believe she intended to abandon him. It was not in her nature to be unnecessarily cruel. Once again, he touched his jacket pocket, hoping he was right.

***

Aykira, naturally unaware of Lex’s ruminations, continued speaking. “The die was cast, contact with Bern and Alexander was limited to short conversations every month. I was on my own, stranded in an alternative universe armed with only a rudimentary knowledge of its history and customs. It became necessary to create and establish a viable identity *without* stealing anyone else’s. The only way to accomplish that was hacking into the two main computer systems within this country: Social Security and the Internal Revenue Service. Believe me; it took several sessions from different locations to create and ‘fill out’ Aykira Milan. My records had to be flawless, able to hold up under the most rigorous computer background checks.”

Lex smiled that killer grin of his. “Bravo, my sweet. It was flawless; you survived the extensive background check from LexCorp’s best security people.”

She returned his accolade with a brilliant smile of her own. “Thank you. Once those records were positioned, everything else fell into place: school and medical records, credit cards, driver’s license, and passport. Aykira Milan for thirty-years ‘exists’ in your world. Although certain ‘gaps’ like early school years were explained by a convenient ‘fire’ which destroyed some records. The fact that I was an orphan helped with others.”

“Wait, how did you pay for simple living prior to this? Surely the currency in your world and ours differ?” Lex Inquired.

“Not as much as you might imagine, Bern provided five thousand dollars in emergency funds. Yet that was hardly enough money to support myself and finance my mission. Greater funds were required and they had to be gotten *legally*, without drawing any undue attention from the IRS. Hence, not long after firmly establishing my identity, I traveled to Las Vegas.

“Once there I drew on my mathematical knowledge to create a system for cheating at Blackjack. I moved carefully from casino to casino, playing only until I won either five hundred or a thousand dollars. It took two months ‘working’ in this manner to amass a sizable sum of money. I banked most of it, planning on quietly investing the funds later, in such things as computer, pharmaceutical and sporting goods companies.”

“Wise choice,” Lex said.

She caught the look of renewed admiration and a not a little surprise on his face. Aykira for her part blushed with embarrassment at all her mathematical knowledge going to waste as a card sharp.

“I returned to Metropolis, rented a cramped studio apartment just outside of Suicide Slum. The place was a horrible pigsty! I shared it with about a thousand different forms of insect and rodent life!” She barely managed to suppress a shudder. “Despite its many disadvantages, the apartment served as a home base for awhile. Anyway, my blackjack earnings were placed in CD’s, savings accounts and some quiet investments, steadily building in case I ever needed emergency capital. With time on my hands, I decided to expand my education on the history of *this* universe by attending distance-learning classes from MIT and Harvard.”

Lex held up his hand and stopped her. “This is an amazing story. By your sheer tenacity you should be running your own company, not working as my assistant.”

She shrugged, smiled, and picked up the narrative.

“After living here in Metropolis for six months, I joined a temporary agency that had a strong relationship with LexCorp. It took some maneuvering, but eventually I was sent to work in the records section. By making myself an indispensable member of that department, I was entrusted to file very sensitive material. That place was a gold mine of information!”

“Eventually Human Resources, impressed with my performance in the records department, decided to use my skills throughout the building and hired me as an in-house contractor. I worked in several different sections on long-term assignments, progressively developing a solid standing with many department heads. A person’s reputation and good references within a company is more valuable than an impressive resume.”

Lex nodded sagely, “Your sterling record and character was a couple of the reasons why you were brought in after Mrs. Cox’s departure.”

“Yes, wasn’t that fortunate…” Aykira’s tone was at first ironic, than softened, she quickly continued. Thankfully when my studio apartment’s lease ran its course, I decided my next abode had to be owned and not rented, a permanent residence to serve as my home base.

“I take it that’s where your communication equipment is hidden?”

She looked at Lex. He knew her much better than she thought. <Why should I be so surprised? His greatest ability is character assessment.> “Yes, with my investment earnings, I purchased a spacious three-bedroom condominium at the Lucerne. Once my living situation was firmly established, Bern started sending over larger and more efficient communication equipment as well as the return transport device. Unfortunately, my conversations were still limited to once a month, as the energy required for such communications is enormous.”

“Living in the heart of Metropolis was an adventure. Suddenly, I could visit museums, plays, read light-hearted novels. At… home, my studies, consultation work for science publications, and a few newspapers took up a great deal of my time. My work with the Harmonic Crystals research team consumed the rest. But, here in Metropolis, although I had a mission, there was still time to learn how to enjoy life!”

Lex smiled, “Yes, I could see that from the pictures, books and artwork in your office and home. Quite the impressive library and travelogue. Please continue.”

Her earlier enthusiasm slightly dampened, Aykira nodded and said. “However, I could not keep track of the crystals’ research and development long distance. It became necessary to travel to England and spend a year working in Oxford’s Faculty of Scientific History department.”

“I did read that in your resume, at the time I thought it rather odd.” Lex said.

“My position at Oxford was extremely helpful developing contacts with the some of the scientists at Barontech. From them I was able to extract the location of the Harmonic Crystals research. ”

“Hmm, that seems difficult to believe, it’s two hundred miles between Barontech and Oxford. How were such contacts established? The crystal research was under tight security, how did you find out about its initial location?”

“Most of the scientists and technicians who worked at the facility traveled to Oxford for additional research materials. Being away from home, they often went to pubs bored and lonely. A couple of friendly pints of ale with an equally bored scientific history ‘student’ and they would talk about anything.”

Aykira sensed Lex’s mind filing the information and deciding to find out which scientists and technicians were on the payroll back then. Employees with loose tongues were intolerable at LexCorp and Barontech.

“Do not concern yourself with the ones who spoke with me... I later ‘convinced’ them talking with strangers about such an important project would be detrimental to their careers. It kept them frightened and wary of chatting to outsiders.”

He believed her. “Very well, why didn’t you stay at Oxford and wait for the crystals to be created?”

“My contacts within Barontech were to keep me informed of any advancements made in crystal technology. They were also to alert me when the crystals were shipped to EPRAD. Also, it had taken too long to create and establish my American identity without having to fabricate a British one. Besides there were other more pressing matters to attend to.”

“Oh?” Lex raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Yes, traveling to Zurich, Switzerland to deal with your former major domo… Nigel St. John.”

***

Lois and Clark walked quickly to her Jeep. Her partner took the keys and opened the passenger side to let her in. Once he was properly strapped into his seat, she asked.

“So, where are you taking me for dinner, Farmboy?”

“A place where the food is great, the company better and we are both on a first name basis with the owner.”

“Uncle Mike’s restaurant, Café Americana?”

“None other! I want to try something other than take out. Besides he makes the best lasagna outside of Rome!”

“Rome? So when are you taking me there?”

“Whenever you want, Lois, but not tonight, I told Mike to expect us.”

“Sounds good to me. Besides, I need to set up my next cooking lesson.”

“Good!” Clark said with a little too much enthusiasm.

“I heard that! What are you implying?”

“Who me? Nothing.” His partner worked hard to hide his smirk.

The rest of the drive to Café Americana was spent with Clark gently teasing his partner about her endeavor into the world of cooking.

***

“Yes, I wanted to know how you coerced Nigel and Mrs. Cox into providing information about me.”

“I appealed to their survival instincts.” Aykira replied grimly.

“No one can say either of them *lacks* that particular quality.” Lex acknowledged dryly.

“It was all part of my plan to become a permanent employee of LexCorp. Working in the executive offices would have been impractical as long as either of them was lurking about.”

“Why?”

She looked into his eyes not believing he could be so foolish to ask such a question and responded. “They are killers.”

Lex took a deep breath and slowly nodded his head. “True, go on.”

“Before confronting them it was essential to have as much negative information about them as possible. My investments provided me with a cash flow to hire a rather brilliant British hacker to glean material about Nigel and Mrs. Cox. Armed with files and a .380 Browning I traveled to Zurich and asked him to reconsider returning to the States and your employment.”

“He agreed? I thought Nigel might have killed you for breaching his privacy.”

“Oh Lex, he almost did.” She stood up and paced in front of the bench, shivering with the memory of that particular encounter.

“What was his response?”

“He pulled a gun on me.”

“Ah yes, dear Nigel was never one for mincing words.” Lex muttered with grudging admiration. “How did you get away?”

“Blackmail… again.”

He bowed his head in thought, “So that’s the reason he did not return to the States? Still, considering Nigel’s somewhat checkered past, he should have killed you for breaching his privacy.”

She wondered if telling Lex the entire truth about her encounter with Nigel St. John would be in her favor. It was definitely not her finest hour, but the experience taught her the important of attending every meeting well prepared and in this particular case, well armed.

***

She had traveled to Zurich and was staying in the trendy Plaza Royal Hotel, a location perfectly suited for Aykira’s cover, that of a corporate traveler looking to ‘obtain’ a Rembrandt for her employer. The ‘Royal’ as locals liked to call it is one of Zurich’s premier luxury addresses. Encircled by the prestigious financial institutions of Paradeplatz Square, The Royal is close to the fashionable boutiques on Bahnhofstrasse, the scenic beauty of Lake Zurich and the captivating attractions in Altstadt (Old Town), Niederdorf, the Congress Hall and Opera House.

Intent on playing the role to the hilt, she went shopping at Les Ambassadeurs for clothes she would wear here and in South America. Her favorites of the items; a chic burgundy sheath dress, and matching high heels; they made her body appear sleek, yet businesslike. The meeting with Nigel St. John had been set up by her hacker associate in London. The cover story was she needed to talk with a person of discretion who could locate a particular Rembrandt to be sold to a private collector. It was well known within the art world that St. John had a penchant for fine art. Someone of his tastes and excellent breeding could not resist such a tempting job.

When Nigel had first arrived, he was all cordiality, in the manner of a nineteenth century English country gentleman. If Aykira was not fully aware of the man’s ruthless reputation, his charisma might have put her off guard. The warm colors and wooden furnishings of the elegant suite was the perfect unperturbed and genial setting for business associates to converse. They were taking coffee and light refreshments, cranberry currant scones and rustic tarts, in the sitting area of her suite. Effortless conversation centered on various activities available to a seasoned traveler such as herself.

“Have you had a chance to visit the Opera House, my dear? It is only a short walk from this establishment.” Nigel’s cultured voice and English accent set the tone for a relaxed conversation.

“No, unfortunately I have not. My employer is very demanding of my time. Perhaps on my next visit?” Aykira said coyly as she sipped the rich strong coffee.

“A pity. If I am still residing in Zurich, it would be an honor to act as your escort.”

“Why, Mr. St. John, such kindness is very much appreciated.”

Despite her visitor’s façade of ease, there was a shrewd vigilance about him, the older man’s body never truly relaxed. She noted that he did not drink his coffee until she had taken a delicate sip from her own cup. Then and only then did he drink and take a bite of pastry.

Aykira tried very hard not to stare at him as the liquid slide down his throat. <At last!> She prepared for the next step in her plan.

Their rather witty and entertaining conversation continued for a few minutes more. Nigel, obviously enchanted by his hostess, had allowed his body to relax since drinking the coffee. Finally, the discussion came around to the fictional Rembrandt job she wanted him to attend to. She said casually, “Lex Luthor suggested only you could handle this particular ‘assignment’ with efficiency and dare I say, style?”

The pleasant and easygoing manner Nigel displayed previously evaporated like early morning dew. This man was not a befuddled Oxford professor or nervous Barontech scientist caught delivering secrets. He was a trained killer, a man without morals or conscience. With a swiftness belying his age, he had stood, stepped around the wooden coffee table, roughly removed her from the comfortable chair, and backed her up against the unyielding wall. A gun suddenly appeared in his hand. She was surprised! It was such a small gun looking for all the world like something a woman would carry. It took a second for her to realize that only someone truly expert with arms would trust something that small. Besides, something that small would not make a lot of noise when it was fired; this made it all the more dangerous. Soundproofing wouldn’t even be necessary. She noted all of this while he brandished it close to her face.

“Now, tell me precisely what your knowledge is of my dealings with Mr. Luthor.” His voice, previously so kind and gentle, assaulted her hearing like fallen dead leaves. Nigel pushed the black weapon in her face, the acidic smell of sulfur emanating from the barrel. Her insides turned tight with fear. Its owner had fired it quite recently, and if she did not get out of this situation or provide the right answers, he intended to employ the destructive device again.

“I told you!” She spat the words out. “Mr. Luthor gave his name as a reference! I want to use your contacts here to acquire a Rembrandt! Is this the way you treat all of your prospective employers?” Her voice sounded weak and tinny.

“Miss Milan.” He whispered in her ear, his breath felt like a snake’s caress. “I hope money did not exchange hands to bring me here. Mr. Luthor currently has exclusive rights to my employ, although that is about to change. He is not in the habit of ‘hiring out’ his best employees; especially ones such as myself. It is a question of loyalty. If you had spent any serious time with the man, you would know that. So tell me, who sent you?”

Aykira’s heart jumped several beats. Heavy beads of sweat burst onto her forehead slide down her twisted face to her throat, what could she possibly tell this man? Despite the pounding in her ears, his speech was ever so slightly slurred. She needed more time.

Ignorant of his victim’s anguished thoughts Nigel continued. “P…perhaps you are an operative from my former employers at MI6? Possibly a plant from the KGB or Mossad? No, sending such an oblivious rank amateur could only be considered a waste of time and resources to them and an insult me.”

She watched the man’s time worn face, as he mentally seemed to be weighting factors. Fear raced through her mind and paralyzed her body. The sheer arrogance of confronting such a professional was utter madness. Anxious thoughts raced through her mind. <What if it doesn’t work in time? How do I escape? I chose this hotel because the suites are all soundproofed. That little precaution could be my undoing.>

His smooth cultured voice, devoid of pity spoke. “Come my dear, we shall take the freight elevator downstairs and then perhaps a splendid ride into the country? After all, Switzerland is known worldwide for its scenic *deep* lakes.” He turned her around, twisted her arm behind her back and pushed Aykira towards the door.

“H…how do you know someone might not be following us?” She asked working hard to keep her voice under control.

The condescending tone of his voice sounded like a schoolmaster scolding an ill-bred student, “Young woman, if you were acting with a team of professional operatives, the suite door would be in splinters by now. Whatever this game is, it can mean me no good.”

She stopped, listened to his voice again and knew the drug she had placed in his coffee was taking effect and decided to keep him talking. “Ah yes, Lex said you were the best right hand man he ever had. He is looking forward to your return.” This time, her voice *did* sound strong and confident.

“Nice try Miss Milan, but you do not know Mr. Luthor at all. Hmm, pity that I…I shall not be returning to the states. Zurich is the perfect place for a man of my particular skills to…live quietly. Perhaps buy a small villa and grow orchids.”

Feeling confident Aykira continued as he pushed her forward. “Nigel St. John - retire? But…but what about your exclusive contract with Mr. Luthor?”

“Yes well, Mr. Luthor shall get along perfectly well without me. Besides he or should I say LexCorp’s corporate accounts, has provided an excellent retirement program.”

Straining against his viselike grip, she managed to painfully turn around and face Nigel; they were almost to the door leading to the outside corridor and a tall standing next to floor lamp. “It takes a great deal of nerve to steal from Lex Luthor. Despite my current situation, I congratulate you!”

Nigel looked Aykira over with eyes that reminded her of a shark. His gaze held no resentment, only seeing her as a minor problem needing erasure. Any hope of talking him out of ending her life was completely gone once he admitted stealing from Luthor. As she stared at him, a fine sheen of perspiration appeared on Nigel’s forehead, his eyes blinked and the grip on the gun grew unsteady. The eyes shifted from confidence to irritation.

“Wh…what was in the coffee?” He shouted. “Tell me!” He pushed her against wall hard. He grabbed her by the throat and hooked two fingers under her pearl necklace and slowly began twisting it.

“C…can’t breathe… stop!” She begged.

“Tell me wench! What w…was in the coffee?” He roared. Even as he said it, his grip was loosening and she could see out the corner of her eye the hand holding the gun was shaking uncontrollably now. She rammed her two inch spike heel into his left ankle. He screamed in pain releasing her throat, the necklace broke, scattering the pearls across the wooden floor. Still he was not about to surrender, he reached for Aykira, intent on grabbing her throat again; and with his other hand he managed to aim the gun at her. She was looking right down that small deadly barrel and she winced as she saw him squeeze the trigger. When the gun didn’t go off she realized that his grip with his non-dominant hand and with the effects of the drug in his system kept him from gripping the weapon hard enough to close the grip safety, preventing the gun from firing. She managed to wrench his hand away, not wanting to give him a second chance.

Savagely she pivoted on the balls of her feet out of his grasp. She grabbed the lamp and slammed it hard across his forearm. The gun fell from his grip onto the floor and only a second later his body followed.

British intelligence training and years of experience came to the forefront. Stubbornly he dragged his body towards the gun, which had slid to a stop at the door.

She stepped in front of him and picked up the gun and studied it carefully. <The drug affected him so badly, he couldn’t release the grip safety!> She thought.

She ripped the cord from the lamp’s base and none too gently tied up his arms and legs. Drugged or not, this man was *never* to be underestimated. As the minutes passed, the adrenaline leached out of strained muscles. She remembered leaning against wall, panting and crying all at the same time. Opening the door to her suite just a crack she listened for the sound of the hotel’s security detail. After three minutes had passed, she shut the door and looked down at St. John.

He was quickly regaining consciousness but he lay flaccidly on the floor, his joints and muscles unresponsive. His facial features were bland, but calculating anger and perhaps a touch of fear shone in his eyes. Speaking with arrogance she most definitely did not feel she knelt down and brought her face close to Nigel’s. “Maybe retirement *is* a good plan after all Nigel. Ten years ago you certainly would not be bested by a ‘rank amateur’! The drug simulates a stroke. I took the precaution of drinking the counter agent before you arrived so it would have no effect on me.”

“What… do you …want? Who… are you?” His speech was painfully slow and labored. All evidence of the witty European gentleman vanished. In his place lay an angry wounded animal, willing, but unable to strike back.

“Information…and a promise. In exchange I will let you live.”

Nigel glared at her, then with a barely perceptible nod of the head, agreed.

“Good. Oh and another thing, you owe me two thousand dollars for my necklace…those are Tahitian South Sea pearls.”

***

Aykira paused for a moment. Recalling her confrontation with the former MI6 operative was emotionally draining, then said, “Nigel was stealing from LexCorp’s corporate accounts and hiding that money in Zurich, Switzerland. It’s the real reason why he departed from Metropolis on an ‘extended’ vacation and then decided to retire.”

The billionaire faced her, his dark eyes wide in shock. “What!”

“Yes. Nigel explained the process to me after I threatened to expose his scheme.”

“Why didn’t you reveal this when we first met?” Lex’s face grew pinched and angry.

“At the time, our relationship was not on the same footing it is now.” Aykira replied dryly. “He returned the principal funds, after the proper coaxing, to all the corporate accounts. I allowed him to keep the interest.”

“That’s still a sizable sum of money!” Lex retorted.

She deflected his outburst by speaking calmly. “Nigel was stealing from you, but the funds were located and most of it safely returned. The man is in Zurich, where he can cause no further harm to LexCorp. Yes, this may be very hurtful to your professional pride, but I can assure you, he will never come back to the states or talk about how he pulled one over on you. Nigel is well aware of the consequences.”

The billionaire gave her a strange look then sat back on the bench shaking his head in disbelief.

“It was foolish of me to go up against someone like him alone. I am very grateful I took that extra precaution. Otherwise, once Nigel had pulled his gun my life would have been over.”

“It certainly explains your mania for meeting preparation.”

She nodded her head and continued. “Immediately following my ‘discussion’ with Nigel I got on a plane to Brazil and had a meeting with Mrs. Cox.”

“Angelica, I take it, was not cooperative either?”

“No - not in the slightest. But at least we did not fight over the matter.”

“Well, that’s something at least.” Lex said dryly.

“Mrs. Cox genuinely enjoyed working for you, Lex. She fully intended on returning to her former position when Nigel ‘refused to come back’. I confronted her and suggested she remain in Brazil rather than work for you. I even offered her my investment earnings, but she laughed at me. Apparently the sum I offered was paltry in comparison to her paychecks from you.”

Lex mused. “I’m pleased she was so loyal.”

“Yes, loyal, but Mrs. Cox has ice water for blood, *everyone* was afraid of her. I remember hearing stories about her before arriving in the Executive Suite.”

“Ah well, her manner was demanding, but she got the job done.”

“Perhaps she did, however, at what price? Such methods destroyed your Executive Suite’s corporate culture. Did you ever wonder why the HR department always had problems filling the positions from the inside? *No one* wanted to work with her. If she had returned, the administrative staff and some of the executives fully intended to walk out. Since I took the administrative helm, most people are content and not burned out from unnecessary stress.”

Her companion was silent during this exchange. <Angelica might have been perfect to back me up in a dark alley. However, as a corporate administrator, perhaps her techniques *did* leave much to be desired.> He thought.

“In any case when Mrs. Cox had her car accident I visited her at the hospital. It did not take much persuading to convince her, this sudden ‘accident’ was my doing. She was quite frightened and decided to remain in Brazil as per my suggestion.”

“Clever. Very clever.”

She shook her head sadly, remembering something Mrs. Cox told her about Lex as Aykira departed from the woman’s hospital room. “He likes his women to wear couture.” She always wondered whether Mrs. Cox meant her or Lex’s occasional ‘houseguests.’ Putting the memory aside she continued. “It is not something to be proud of. With so many other lives in the balance, there was no other choice. In any case after my meeting with Mrs. Cox I returned to Metropolis and re-established my relationship with LexCorp… and you.”

“Me?” He stared at her in surprise. “We met prior to your working for me?”

“Oh yes. Before leaving for Oxford, I was the event-planning director’s assistant. Andreia Lopes was a brilliant event coordinator. In my eight months of working for her she taught me a great deal about that profession. Without her gentle tutelage, my first assignment planning the White Orchid Ball would not have been such a rousing social success. Sadly, although she enjoyed working for LexCorp, the demands of her family were more important.”

She watched as amazed realization slowly dawned on his face. “Aykira, that is impossible! Ms. Lopes’ last assistant was plump, with terrible skin; her taste in clothes was abysmal.”

In tight-lipped discomfiture, Aykira whispered. “Even our world has the ugly duckling tale.”

He cast a serious eye over the beautiful black woman before him and shook his head in amazement.

“Lex, with my education and experience I can run rings around any of your top executives. However, considering my appearance at that time, none of you would have noticed any project I helmed. Women like Mrs. Cox always receive a male executive’s attention. My appearance hindered me from going any further within the company than my tiny cubicle in the LexCorp Events Planning department.

“Traveling to England, Europe and South America, nurtured an internal desire to ‘polish’ myself. Working with Andreia, meeting clients, and representing LexCorp, was the essential beginnings of my metamorphosis; time spent in the gym, proper diet, learning how to apply make-up and teaching myself how to walk and dress became a part of my life’s routine. After returning from Brazil, I asked to become an in-house contractor. The HR department offered me the choice of two positions: provisional head of events planning or as your assistant.”

Aykira did not relate her first meeting with Lex. How utterly shocking the similarity of his appearance with that of Alexander. Two big differences, Alexander worn his hair slicked back and he loved to wear jeans when not in the office. A stark, hurtful memory of Lex walking past her in the hallways of the Event Planning Department as if she did not exist came to mind. In truth, she did not warrant his attention, she was only a minor assistant and a plain one in the bargain.

“I… I had no idea. This story is the most incredible I have ever heard. It’s impossible to believe!”

“Why is it so difficult? In this alternative world and mine, a man *flies*! Is stepping between parallel universes so hard to grasp? In any case, my mission is accomplished. This morning before our meeting, your creature, Dr. Scott handed over to me a dozen crystals. I know he was the one commissioned by you to plan and implement the Shackleton hijacking. After the break-in at LexSolar, I used my knowledge of our computer systems to track down which computer and printer the security guards heard that night. It was a simple matter to discover which file had been printed then confront him and demand the crystals. He thought Lex Luthor had sent me over especially since you demanded two of them from him last night.”

She watched his obsidian eyes flash dangerously. Lex stood up from the bench and glowered angrily down at her. “How dare you! Those crystals are for Space Station Lex! My dream!”

She stood as well, glaring into his face, her voice hard. “My reasons were just and valid, given the choice for the people of my world. Speaking of dreams, how many *others* have had their own dashed by Lex Luthor in his pursuit of fame and fortune? Not a few, I wager.”

The two people continued glowering at each other; neither, it seemed were prepared to back down.

The sound of a throat clearing caused them to turn as one and face an elderly couple. The man wearing a very old-fashioned black suit and bowler hat spoke up in a clear British accent asked. “Ahem… excuse me. Are the two of you using that bench? My dear wife needs to sit down. Walking around the museum has quite undone her.”

“Oh yes, please, make yourself comfortable.” Aykira stepped away from the bench and beckoned the couple over. The man’s wife, also wearing clothes from an earlier time, sat down with a grace belying her years.

“Thank you, my dears.” The petite woman with quiet blue eyes smiled up at them. “Herbert and I came to have a look at the Italian art. We missed it when the exhibition was in London years ago.” She appraised Lex and Aykira than spoke crisply with all the weight of her years. “Please excuse the impertinence of an old woman, a handsome couple such as yourselves must see to it, not to allow silly distractions like arguments to harm your relationship. Youth and health only comes once. When it departs, hopefully wisdom and true friendship remain. Be each other’s friend.”

The old man smiled down at his wife, took her gloved hand, and patted it. “She speaks the truth. But then I am sure you are both aware of that.”

Tears bristled in Aykira’s eyes as the import of the old couple’s words hit her. “Thank you. My… husband and I have… much to discuss. Please enjoy the remains of the day.” So saying, she took Lex’s hand and they walked slowly away from the resting couple.

***

“Oh Herbert, should we have interfered?”

The old man sat down wearily next to his wife and said, “Yes, my dear. Not only for their sakes, but for the sake of Utopia.” He offered her his arm and said, “We really need to get back to our transport.”

***

Lex and Aykira strolled for a time through the park as the afternoon light quietly faded, holding hands and allowing a companionable silence to envelope them. Somehow, during Aykira’s narrative they had forgotten length of years together was not promised to them. Now was the time to clear all the noise and foolishness away. Space Stations. Harmonic Crystals. Alternative worlds and crooked scientists needed to take a step back.

***

Lex’s respect, admiration, and love for this fantastic woman had increased tenfold since her arrival at the museum. She had the spirit and determination to do what no one else could conceive of doing. Stepping alone into a world not her own, to be a stranger in the midst of other strangers. Not only did this phenomenal creature survive, she thrived. Turning what might have been a horrific setback to someone else into victory. Even if it might best him at his own game!

Before any more time elapsed, Lex needed to make the final arrangements with Sheldon Bender, Aykira’s knowledge and experience made her the perfect new head of LexCorp. The only obstacle, the greatest one, now that her mission was complete… would she remain in this world by his side?

***

A soft voice broke into his musings. “I did not mean to deceive you. Please forgive me. From the moment I meet you again at my job interview I felt the attraction between us. But unfortunately, I was torn between love or accomplishing my mission. Can we put all these other matters aside for a time and enjoy being a man and woman… in love?” Aykira looked at him, hazel eyes pleading.

All the anger had drained from Lex. “Yes my sweet. We need to put the past aside and be content with whatever time remains… for us.”

They had walked to the great stone bridge in Centennial Park. After crossing over, they came to another bench, this one weathered with the passage of time, but it held a rustic charm. He asked her to take a seat. With a flourish, Lex got down on one knee, pulled out a small cobalt box with a gold latch from his jacket pocket, and held it out to a surprised Aykira.

“Lex…?” She asked in a hushed whisper.

Slowly the man she truly loved opened the box. Nestled on a divan of midnight blue velvet, a ring sparkled. Not just any ring but one created by famed jewelry designer and merchant Layne O’Neil. The ring was a three-carat emerald-cut yellow colored diamond, in a 24k gold setting with tiny white diamond accents.

“It’s… beyond beautiful,” she grasped in surprise.

“Beside your loveliness and inner strength, it is a lifeless piece of crystallized carbon.” Lex held his breath. “Dearest Aykira Milan, I cannot ask this again. Will you…?”

Cupping her slender brown hands over his, she answered, “Yes Lex, with all my heart.”

Slowly, he slid the ring on her finger, gathered her in his arms and whispered gently. “Thank you, Aykira, for making us complete.” He bent down and brought his lips tenderly to hers and they kissed with a deliciously intense passion tempered by unrestrained joy.

Part Eighteen

Lois sat back in perfect ease after finishing her meal. Dinner at Uncle Mike’s was always fun and relaxing… especially when someone else was footing the bill. During the earlier part of their meal, she and Clark had discussed tomorrow night’s stakeout on Pier 17, hoping to apprehend Dr. Scott and his cohorts. A thought came to Lois’ mind, <We are going back to stakeout the same place where this entire investigation began… Pier 17. Clark and I are together now, our relationship has grown so much since April.>

Yes, here she was with Clark, her partner and now - boyfriend talking about everything that had happened. Who would have thought when he picked her up this morning they might be on the verge of cracking the Shackleton hijacking case? Beyond the case, their friendship had shifted into something they both eagerly wished for and now the time had finally arrived to explore it.

Yes, it was also time to explore the real man behind Superman’s suit.

She listened to him talk, looking at the handsome face and those wire-rimmed glasses, which so perfectly hid Metropolis’ greatest hero. He had fooled everyone, including the Daily Planet’s best investigative reporter, but now she was in on the secret. It was gratifying, yet humbling all at the same time. This was a secret to be hidden from everyone, most definitely the media. If word spilled out somehow, it was not just Clark’s life that would be affected, but also Pete Ross's, her own and his folks. She imagined the town of Smallville besieged by a locust swarm of print and television reporters, the sleepy little community’s peaceful existence forever destroyed. Lois fiercely resolved within her heart, no one must ever discover Clark’s secret; it was to be guarded as carefully as she guarded her love for him.

***

Clark watched her, blissfully unaware of Lois’ internal thoughts. He was grateful to have dinner at Mike’s so he could spend a completely undistracted evening with Lois. He promised himself that tonight, other than a quick visit to Pete Ross’s office she was all his. No rescues, stakeouts or villains were going to interrupt them… he hoped.

He wanted to take her to Smallville soon for dinner with his folks. It was important for her to know them on a different footing than before. There must be no more secrets between his parents and Lois; she was now a part of the family.

Just then, Uncle Mike bustled over. “How’s the food tonight?”

“The lasagna was entirely delicious Mike! But I think I better stop here!” Clark exclaimed patting his stomach.

“What, no room for dessert? You don’t know what you are missing! Tell him, Mike!” Lois chimed in.

Mike laid his hand on Lois’s shoulder, his eyes twinkling. “My niece knows a thing or two about my kitchen. Come on, have some cheesecake, to go.”

Clark laughed a warm hearty sound. “Okay. You both win. I’ll take one for the road.”

“There you go! It’ll only take a minute to make up a bag for both of you.” Turning to Clark, the older man smiled and said, “Oh, and by the way, your money is no good here.” With a wink to Lois, her uncle moved off to another table before Clark could speak.

“Mike can’t do that!” Clark said.

“Of course he can, Clark," Lois said. "He *owns* the restaurant. Besides, its Mike’s way of showing he approves of you.”

“Glad to know it. But let’s not come here too often, I don’t like the idea of taking advantage of his kindness.”

“Hmmm, maybe. However, as his niece I plead the ‘friends and family package’!”

“Still, there are other places in Metropolis to eat." He began to name a few well-known restaurants, some a little pricey on a humble reporter’s salary.

“OK, Kent. But while we’re waiting for our ‘to go’ boxes, I have a question.” Lois’ eyes darted around the crowded café, edged closer to Clark, lowered her voice, and asked. “I always wondered, how you ever learned… to, you know.” She made a swooping motion with her free arm.

Clark also lowered his voice and proceeded to tell her about Hutch Parlow, Ida Schultz, navigation lessons, cartography, and his numerous trips to the library.

“They sound like wonderful people. Why didn’t you mention them while we were in Smallville chasing down that nutcase, Trask?”

With a quick shrug of his shoulders, Clark said, “Mrs. Schultz retired to Florida to be near her family. Mr. Parlow has been deceased for several years. Since they were not around, it didn’t make sense to mention them. Besides, if memory serves me correctly, Trask had us pretty busy.”

Lois’ eyes twinkled with mischief. “I wonder what they might think if they knew why you *really* wanted to learn about maps.”

The young man’s eyes gazed off into the distance. “Mrs. Schultz - it’s impossible to say, but I think Hutch Parlow was an even-tempered, intelligent man who could probably accept the idea of an alien inhabiting Earth.”

“Sounds like he was a man ahead of his time,” she remarked.

Clark nodded in quiet agreement and was about to say more when Uncle Mike came up to the table with two crisp white bags. “We’re out of cheesecake. So, there’s two Italian pastries in each bag - savor every bite.” He shook his finger at Lois and said in a commanding voice. “This dessert is to be enjoyed by each of you - it is *not* to be used as payment for the local snitch!”

His niece’s face flushed deep red, and she squeaked out an embarrassed, “I… how… uh sorry, Uncle Mike.”

The annoyance on Mike’s face vanished; he bent over, kissed Lois on the cheek, and smiled. “No worries. Now you kids enjoy yourselves.” Turning to Clark, he said. “Please make sure she gets home safe.”

“I promise, Uncle Mike,” the younger man responded in a playfully solemn tone.

Mike nodded at them both, said his farewells, and then once again hurried off toward the kitchen.

The couple exited into the night, taking in the sights and sounds of an early summer Metropolis evening. Clark took her hand as they walked towards Metropolis General Hospital. Pete Ross should be well into his shift by the time they arrived.

“I’m looking forward to getting this thing off and moving my arm around like a normal person," Lois said. "Hopefully, Pete won’t put me through a battery of tests and then decide to make me keep it on for a few more days. After all this is just a scratch, not a real bullet wound. He can’t leave my arm in a sling forever… can he?” she asked.

Clark’s mouth worked hard to keep from chuckling. His partner had once again launched into full babble mode. She was definitely nervous about seeing Pete. Lois wanted the sling off and fervently hoped there was no residual damage from the bullet grazing her arm. Hence, to ward off her apprehension, she babbled.

“Everything should be fine Lois. Pete Ross is an excellent doctor. You’ll see.”

His partner gave him a fragile smile and quipped, “Fine! Let’s get this stupid thing off my arm!”

***

A radiant and attractively dressed couple alighted from the Metro cab, unclasping hands; they walked into the LexCorp Tower lobby and resumed their normal behavior befitting the CEO of LexCorp and his competent assistant. Upon boarding Lex’s private elevator, the ruse continued, as they were mindful of surveillance cameras.

The elevator doors opened soundlessly to Lex’s office suite. They stepped into the elegantly decorated room waited for the doors to close, then fell enthusiastically into each other’s arms.

“Today has been full of surprises!” Aykira murmured as she nibbled her beloved’s ear.

Lex was quietly exploring the hollow of her throat, so his voice came as a low growl. “There is so much more to do, my sweet. However, I have asked Chef Andre to prepare a light supper - something special in honor of our engagement. Afterwards, we can have… dessert.” His dark eyes were heavy lidded with barely concealed passion.

Her hazel eyes gazed deep into his with a knowing look. “There is only one place for us to exchange our vows, Lex, and that is on Santorini Island at your residence - The Stone Villa.”

The expression on Lex’s face was one of approval. “Perfect. It is my favorite place in the world, where I can truly be myself.” Kissing her neck again he asked, “Shall we invite Mayor Chiros and his family? He can preside over the nuptials.”

“But aren’t most Greek ceremonies done in the Mayor’s office?” Aykira responded huskily, her slender fingers caressing his back.

Her fiancé looked up, smiled and whispered in her ear. “Of course, he has performed dozens of ceremonies within the confines of his office. But I’m sure Spiros will make an exception in our case.” Lex stopped, pulled back from her, his countenance took on a pensive look. “Aykira, I wish to keep this entire affair very quiet and private. If the media discovered we are together, much less engaged, our lives will become fodder for every bottom feeder with a camera lenses. I’m used to that sort of thing, but it will leave you open to an uncomfortable amount of scrutiny. Undoubtedly the question will arise as to why the rush and secrecy.”

“Agreed.” She sighed. “We can expect cameras to be snapping away from now until we return from our wedding and honeymoon. It is best I handle the arrangements myself, as if we were attending a conference in Athens.” She bowed her head in deep thought then looked up at him. “My… life has not allowed me to have many friends, only acquaintances, but I wish to invite Jane and her husband Jason. She could be my Matron of Honor.”

Lex held her shoulders, kissed her full lips gently, then, whispered. “If it pleases you, by all means do so. I was thinking of asking Asabi to act as my best man at our wedding.”

Suddenly Aykira’s body stiffened under Lex’s fingers, and she whispered softly. “Wedding… right… wedding, *our* wedding. Oh my stars! There *are* a thousand things to do!” Instead of seeing the confident and cool agent provocateur, Lex watched his fiancée change into someone completely alien and positively delightful… a bride.

“Lex… flights, passports, the cake, alerting the staff on Santorini Island… my dress!”

The sensual celebratory mood was broken as Aykira moved away from her amorous fiancé and in the direction of the staircase. “Let me handle everything! You just worry about your clothes and our wedding rings. Please tell Chef Andre I apologize about dinner. If I call now, the Santorini staff can begin working on preparing the Villa for our arrival.” She blew him a kiss, opened the door, and ran downstairs.

Lex continued looking after at the door after she had closed it and began to hum a tune, when he heard the gentle swish of fabric, which signaled him to the quiet presence of Asabi. “May I offer my sincere congratulations? I see the future Mrs. Luthor looks quite radiant and happy, sir.”

His employer turned to him with a small smile on his face. “Yes she does, doesn’t she? A determined bride with a million details running through her mind. This time I picked a winner. You no doubt heard my request?”

Asabi bowed at the waist, “It would be an honor, sir. Are there any pressing details I can assist you or Ms. Milan with?”

“Yes, please ask the jewelry designer, Mrs. O’Neil to send over wedding band samples for myself and Aykira. Tell her I appreciate utmost secrecy. My ring will require special attention. I suspect at the rate my fiancé is going, everything will be done by this time tomorrow evening.”

Asabi nodded acknowledgement and silently departed from the room.

***

“See, Lois? Nothing to worry about, Pete had us out of there in under an hour. How does your arm feel?”

“A little sore, the scar won’t be as bad as I thought, but otherwise… fine. Thanks for driving me home; I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

A companionable, but tense silence hung between them as Clark walked Lois up the front stairs of her Carter Avenue apartment building and then down the short hallway to Apt. 501. Clark took the key from Lois’ hand and opened the door. She stood quite still for a moment. The day was winding down to its inevitable end, but neither could ignore the heightened, but not unpleasant sexual tension between them.

A tremulous smile played on Lois’s lips as she looked up at her partner. “Clark, this has been a special day, you and me fighting the bad guys once again. I can hardly wait until tomorrow! Another stakeout… with my partner, best friend… and now boyfriend.”

“Oh, so I am no longer the ‘Hack from Nowheresville?” He teased.

“Oh,” she snickered, “you’ll always be that… in a special way. But ‘boyfriend’ suits you… in so many ways.” Her voice grew soft and rich with desire; she leaned against the door and smiled saucily.

He took Lois’s face in his hands, leaned close to her and kissed first the right cheek, then the left, finally touching her warm, full lips. They had been sneaking around kissing each other whenever and wherever they could all day. Steve had caught them when he walked into the supply room. The big man had smiled, shook his head, and without missing a beat, turned around and closed the door behind him.

They were mortified, but upon returning to the bullpen, Steve treated them with the same respect as always. Clark was grateful Cat had not stumbled onto them or even worse - Ralph. Inflammatory gossip of their tryst would be all over the building within an hour. He did not want to take that chance, especially after those ‘cutie’ comments from the obnoxious man last week.

Still, at this moment the kiss was more sincere, more sensual than any previous ones of the day. Perhaps because they were kissing in front of Lois’ apartment, with all the deliciously dangerous implications that particular location represented. The tip of his tongue teased hers; here was a kiss that began in cool springtime and ended in steamy summer. Clark could feel his heart beating with an urgency he had never experienced before; he desperately wanted to be so much closer to Lois.

“Care to… come inside?” Lois asked in a tenuously soft undertone when their lips parted.

“Y...yes. If it’s OK?”

“Oh Clark, it’s more than OK,” she whispered breathlessly as she grabbed his tie and pulled him into the apartment.

{Help! Help!} A familiar, lurching feeling overcame him and his heart slowed to a crawl. “Oh no!” He groaned aloud and his body slumped. “Lois, I have to go, there’s been some kind of explosion at Suicide Slum.”

She stepped back and made the familiar swooping motion with her newly mobile arm. “Superman is needed?”

“Desperately,” he groaned again. “I’ll meet you at the Planet tomorrow. This could be a long night.”

“Fine. Go. Oh, by the way,” she said a mischievous glint in her brown eyes. “Superman owes me an exclusive!”

“Deal… partner.” With that, Clark dashed out of the building. However, he heard Lois say breathlessly. “Somehow, I have to get used to that.”

***

Aykira entered her office suite to see Jane working diligently at yet another Power Point presentation. A feeling of tenderness crept into her heart watching the other woman working. <She has tried several times to be a friend as well as an assistant; here is the perfect opportunity for me to reciprocate.>

“Burning the midnight oil again, Jane? Do you not think it is time to knock off and take a small vacation, albeit a working one?”

The redhead looked up, and in a surprised voice said. “Boss, what are you doing here? What’s this talk about a vacation?”

"It is a very important assignment. One I can trust to only you and Jason. First, are your passports, yours and his up to date?”

Jane green eyes flashed with concern, “Of course. Aykira, is everything all right?”

“Everything is just fine. Lex and I need you to come with us to Greece.”

“Greece? When did this trip come up?” Jane’s face was awash in puzzlement.

“It is quite simple, really. Lex and I are getting married, and I would truly appreciate having you as my Matron of Honor and Jason as one of our guests.” As if to punctuate the statement, Aykira held out her left hand for Jane’s perusal.

In awestruck silence, Jane took the proffered hand and looked at the dazzling ring without uttering a sound. Her mouth formed the word ‘Wow’, but no other words seemed forthcoming.

Finally, a bemused Aykira could stand it no longer. “Jane, please say *something*!”

Her assistant held up her hand for silence, hit the speed dial for her husband’s cell phone number. Aykira could make out the deep voice of Jason Winley. They exchanged pleasantries, then, Jane spoke quickly. “Jason, please tell your boss we are going on a short trip to Greece. So pack a bag for both of us. I think we’ll be leaving tomorrow evening. Honey, don’t worry, I’ll explain everything when I get home in a couple of hours.”

Aykira was about to laugh when her assistant stood up from her desk grabbed her by the hand and began pulling her into the luxury office suite, her heavy North Carolina accent more pronounced than usual. “OK. I want to hear *every* detail of how y’all managed to snare the most eligible bachelor in Metropolis, if not the whole world!”

***

The phone jangled noisily, just as Lois finished sliding the last deadbolt into place.

<Who could it be at this hour of the night? I probably don’t need to answer it.> She decided to let the call go to the answering machine when a familiar voice rang out.

<<Hey, big sister, this is Lucy, pick-up the phone! Where in the world are you?>>

Lois made a dash for the phone before the answering machine hung up. “Hi, Lucy! How have you been?”

Lucy responded in typical Lane fashion - she babbled. <<”What’s this about you being in some kind of accident? Why does Uncle Mike get to tell me news about my own sister? Why didn’t you let anyone in the family know? Does this have to do with a big story? The Daily Planet is not your life. Speaking of which, when are you going to get one? Lois, are you listening to me?”>>

“Lucy! I hear Mother’s words, but your voice. If you come up for air and let me get a word in edgewise, I’ll tell you,” her sister exclaimed.

<<”At last, she surfaces! What happened to you?”>> Lucy demanded.

Lois bit her lip and wondered just how much to explain to her sister. So much *had* happened in the past two weeks, so much she could never really put in plain words. Although the sisters had had their differences, she really did not want to lie to her. She took her cue from Clark and decided that misdirection was the best alternative.

“Oh, Lucy, relax. My arm is out of the sling and I feel fine. But I did follow your advice and started seeing Clark Kent.”

Absolute silence came from the other end of the phone.

“Lucy? Lucy? Hello, are you there?” Lois asked.

<<”When did this happen?”>> Lucy squeaked.

“Oh, a couple of days ago, we just got back from having dinner at Uncle Mike’s.”

<<”Great.”>> Lois could almost see the pout on Lucy’s face. <<“As soon as I leave Metropolis, all the cool stuff happens. Never mind that, what’s he like? By the way, dinner at the Café Americana is *not* a date. It is dinner with family. He needs to take you to a romantic restaurant with candles and white linen tablecloths. We Lane women are *not* cheap dates!>>

“Listen Luce, much as I want to chat with you about all things Clark, it's been a very long day and I have to work tomorrow,” Lois said while struggling to stifle a yawn. “Why don’t we make a phone date for a little sister time this weekend… say Sunday morning?”

<<”Are you sure Clark can spare you?”>> Lucy asked coyly.

“See, there you go making assumptions! Clark Kent is a man, not a Neanderthal. Of course that cannot be said for some of the guys, you’ve brought home! Oh Lucy, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be cruel.” Lois said in a rush, remembering Lucy’s last serious relationship.

<<”Hey, it’s okay! That mistake nearly cost Clark his life.”>> Lucy sighed. A brief, uncomfortable quiet came over the line. Both women were remembering Lucy’s last monumental failure of a boyfriend and all the problems he caused. <<S… sorry Lois. This is awesome news about you and Clark. It’s a cool change to have conversation about something else besides life at the Daily Planet!>>

“Thank you Lucy. He is a great guy.” Lois yawned and continued. “I’ll tell you everything soon.”

<<OK. Good night, sis. Oh, wait - one question.>>

“Yeah, Lucy?”

<<Is he a good… kisser?>> Her sister barely managed to suppress a giggle.

Lois thought back to the sweet innocent kiss Clark had given her at his apartment on the terrible night of the break-in. The warm kisses they had shared today and finally the passionate, smoky searing embrace only a few moments ago outside her door. A slow minx-like smile spread over her lips as senses tingled anew with the memory.

“He’s a great kisser *and* still my best friend. Good night sis.”

***

“He proposed in Centennial Park? How romantic!”

“Yes," Aykira said. "In his heart, Lex is an old-fashioned kind of man.”

“So the wedding is going to take place on the isle of Santorini? I hear that is the ultimate destination for romantic weddings on the cliffs.”

“Ah yes, it is a beautiful island. Sadly, we shall not exchange vows on the cliffs. There’s too great of a chance someone will recognize us and alert the media. I think our ceremony will take place in the villa itself, on the villa terrace overlooking the Mediterranean at sunset. We would like to keep everything private and small, hence the need for secrecy and expediency; otherwise the media will turn an intimate family event into a sound bite.”

“Oh, it’ll put a damper on the romantic aspects of the occasion all right!” Jane agreed earnestly.

“Since Lex is known for taking trips there on a whim, we thought it was the perfect location. Tomorrow, bright and early, you and I have a bit of shopping to do for our dresses and anything else we might need. There is a beautiful shop downtown called Darcy’s, which specializes in one-of-a-kind items. They cater to celebrities and women who do not wish to be disturbed by the paparazzi.”

Jane’s face was beaming, “This is all so exciting!” She looked at her watch and said, “I better get home, Jason is probably wonderin’ what’s going on. Aykira, I’m honored and pleased, this is quite a privilege! Mr. Luthor has always been interested in you, but it seemed like you never noticed.”

“Oh, I noticed him. But my job came first.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Let us just say one very large part of my job is done.” Aykira smiled, but only a little touched her eyes. “We can share the car service. At this hour, taking the Metro is out of the question.”

***

Clark returned to his apartment around two o’clock in the morning, his suit covered in soot. The explosion itself did not cause much damage; helping with the cleanup was a greater problem. Still, among himself, Metropolis police and fire department, a speedy rescue ensued. After taking a quick hot shower and feeding a very hungry cat, Clark wrote up an account for the Daily Planet, copied in Lois, and sent it over to Perry’s inbox.

After putting on a pair of black sleeping shorts, he stretched himself out on the bed, allowing sleep to claim him. However, in his mind’s eye was the vision of his beautiful Lois. Despite an untimely interruption, the happy memory of her kiss lingered on. He smiled to himself; it had been a very long, but satisfying day.

***

“Hey CK! Good morning!” Jimmy called out to his friend. “The only thing this story of the explosion at Suicide Slum needed was a few pictures to make it sing! Next time, how about giving me a call, OK?” Jimmy ran his hand through the thatch of black hair and asked, “What were you doing on that side of town in the middle of the night anyway?”

“Clark was looking for a story like any good reporter, Jimmy,” Lois interjected after taking a sip of her low-fat mocha, “instead of waiting around for one to fall in his lap.”

“Ah, wait a second, Lois. I have been hanging around with Steve, Eduardo *and* Diane taking pictures of all kinds of events! But Clark always gets the really explosive stories… um pardon the pun.”

“No problem, Jimmy. Look, the next time one of my sources has a hot tip, I’ll give you a call. What’s wrong, chief giving you a hard time again?” Clark inquired.

Crestfallen, the photographer said, “No. But, I want to be promoted to a *full-time* staff photographer. Especially since Jack is doing so great as copyboy/researcher’s assistant. The only thing that’s going to impress the chief is some amazing pictures. Otherwise, a promotion ain’t never gonna happen.”

“Don’t worry Jim, Perry sees your work. Be patient,” Lois said in a rare consoling tone.

“I’m patient,” the young man sighed as he walked away, “but my wallet isn’t”.

“Good bit of misdirection, Lois. Thanks.” Clark whispered.

“Anytime, partner,” she whispered back. Than in a slightly louder voice, asked, “What about our stakeout plans this evening?”

Suddenly Ralph popped up between them and smiled. “Since when do you two have to make plans? If you need backup, I’m your man!”

A look of utter disdain appeared on Lois’ face. “This is a *private* conversation, Ralph.”

“Yeah, but if this stakeout is as big as you think, another set of eyes might be of help.”

“Lois and I are fully capable of handling a routine surveillance. Please find your own stories.” Clark worked hard to conceal his irritation.

The obsequious man threw up his arms in frustration. “Humph! ‘The Hottest Team in Town’ doesn’t need anybody’s help!” He stalked back to his desk.

Clark looked after him, shook his head, and answered, “As I was saying before we were interrupted, we should be good to go. Remember, Cameron told Dr. Scott to be at Pier 17 at nine o’clock. All we have to do is wait until they show up.”

“Ooh, this stakeout is going to be great! Maybe we should bring Jimmy along. He can take pictures of the military police when they make the bust,” Lois suggested.

“Intergang photos yes. General Zeitlin’s people most *definitely* not. Any photos in the newspaper might compromise some of his Special Forces team. Those guys like to keep a low profile.”

Lois rolled her eyes in exasperation, “Fine! But right now, partner, we have a bigger problem.”

Clark looked back at her, slightly confused. “Bigger problem?”

“Yeah, it’s only nine thirty in the morning. Any other prospective outlines we have on our computer hard drives are nothing compared to this. What are we going to do until it’s time to go on the stakeout?”

***

Lunchtime at the Daily Planet saw Lois, Clark and Jimmy congregating around her desk, discussing the plans for that night’s activities. “What do you mean the Chief has you on assignment *already*? I thought you wanted to be in on our little night job? Besides, Clark is bringing pizza – with pepperoni!” Lois said in a coaxing manner.

“Yeah, I thought so, too, Lois, but the Chilean ambassador’s gala is presenting some big time gift to First Lady Gardener. Applegate was supposed to be Eduardo’s photographer, but he’s out sick. Perry gave me this opportunity. What could I do? Now I have to spend my lunch hour renting a tux on short notice.” Jimmy shrugged his shoulders and looked torn between his friends and his future career as a photojournalist.

“It’s OK, Jimmy this is your first chance to really show the chief what you can do. Make the best of it.” Clark said while patting his friend on the back. “Hey, talk with Sal at Maxim’s Tuxedo; tell him you know me. I’ve steered a little business his way, it might help you.”

“Smooth, CK! I owe you one.” Jimmy sprinted up the ramp, a smile on his face.

Cat, wearing a bright orange knit dress that left nothing to the imagination, eased over to the duo. “Jimmy looks happy. What’s the occasion?”

“He has an assignment, taking pictures of First Lady Gardener at the Chilean embassy gala. Lois responded. “Clark just gave him the name of the place to get a tux.”

“Maxim’s?” The gossip reporter nodded thoughtfully, “Sal will treat him well. The Daily Planet has been sending customers to them for years.” The gossip columnist swiftly shifted gears. “Speaking of events, I’m looking forward to seeing you both at my wedding. Lois, leave the ‘reporter’ at home and wear something to ‘turn up the sizzle.’”

“I know how to dress for a wedding…” Lois began, a little heat in her voice.

“Besides, Lois is going as my date, no need for her to ‘sizzle’ anyone… except me,” Clark interjected, a wide grin spread across his face.

Cat smiled slyly, acknowledging they were a couple. “*No one* could imagine either of you with anyone else. Oh, I wanted to ask a favor, Clark. George’s cousin can’t make the wedding and we need someone to act as an attendant. Could you get a tuxedo? I understand if this is a little last minute…”

“It’s not a problem. Actually, I do have one in my closet. What time should we be there?

“Please try to arrive at the Farragut Hotel around five o’clock. The ceremony starts at six.”

“Then Lois and I will be there at four thirty. Just to be on the safe side in case anything happens.”

Cat, visibly relieved, smiled easily, a hint of her old seductress self. She wiggled her eyebrows and answered in a pleased voice. “Great! After the ceremony, you two can have a little fun! Meanwhile Diane and I need to do a bit of wedding shopping. Thank you, Clark.” Her long elegant hands lightly touched Clark’s shoulders playfully, then she walked away.

“Hah! Engagement to George *has* changed that woman, but she still has a ways to go.” Lois said, shaking her head.

“See Lois, I told you. Cat needed someone to bring out the kindness she has inside, not the sly temptress.”

Lois face softened. “It took someone like George Amundsen to perceive that kindness and bring it to the surface, just like it took Clark Kent to work past my barriers to see me. It is such qualities which make men like you and George so rare.”

All the background noise of the newsroom fell away, the couple gazed longingly into each other’s eyes and almost embraced, but the sound of Perry’s voice ringing out through the bullpen stopped them. “Lois. Clark. My office. Pronto!”

Scant moments later the duo found themselves once again seated on the ugly plaid couch as Perry grilled them about their stakeout strategy.

“Look I know you two kids are experts at covert surveillance, but this is Intergang we are talking about here. You *need* back-up.”

We asked Jimmy to come with us chief, but now he’s working that embassy assignment.” Lois said, not a little annoyed.

“Hah! I sent the kid on that assignment *because* you asked him along. Walking through Suicide Slum looking for Superman is one thing; tangling with Intergang is another. What little we do know about these guys tells my reporter’s instincts to be cautious! Frankly, if Superman were not a friend of yours Kent, I wouldn’t be too keen about sending you two out there either.”

“Perry, this is the story of a lifetime for Jimmy. He really wants to prove himself to you.” Clark spoke up in his friend’s defense.

“Hey, hey, there will be *other* assignments; the next plum one for a photojournalist of his limited experience goes to Olsen. Now as I was saying, who is your back-up? You know, just in case a certain flying man in red and blue spandex fails to arrive?”

“Captain Maynard, General Zeitlin’s adjutant and his Special Forces squad will be there shadowing us. They want the crystals back without any interference. The captain also has a surveillance team on Dr. Scott, so at nine o’clock they intend to rendezvous with us at Pier 17.”

“Military, huh? Now, that’s more like it! But look here, make sure you check in with this Captain Maynard *and* Bill Henderson. Metropolis’ Finest should be in on the bust as well. It will make up for you keeping Bill in the dark.” The Planet’s senior editor sat back in his chair smiled and said. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, I’m going to call down to Lucille’s and find out what she’s got for lunch.”

“Huh, Chief,” Clark said while nervously touching his glasses. “We didn’t say anything to Henderson. Lois and I thought we would let him know about the stakeout *after* it happens.”

The older man’s face grew flush with barely concealed shock. Perry looked first at Clark then Lois. “Come again?”

“Well I haven’t exactly cleared myself yet with Bill about the whole LexSolar break-in either. But we promised to let him know the story *behind* the story,” Lois said in her small squeaky voice.

Their editor looked to the heavens for strength then pointed towards the door. Without further discussion, the partners beat a hasty exit.

***

“That went over real well. Do you suppose Perry will ever speak to us again?”

Lois did not respond, but dived into her top drawer and pulled out the two Double-Fudge Crunch Bars Sid had given her yesterday. She handed one to Clark and then viciously tore the wrapper off and bit into the other one. “Oh, he’ll cool down in an hour or so, but if we don’t deliver a whiz-bang story tomorrow morning we are officially in Perry’s doghouse.”

“Yikes.” Clark groaned.

***

“Your wedding dress will be the talk of Metropolis, Miss Grant! There should be no chance of either it or Miss Pallister’s dress wrinkling before the big day! Please see us again if you need any dresses for future occasions.” the salesclerk gushed as she carefully wrapped Cat and Diane’s dresses in paper and then separate garment bags. Another woman packed boxes of various sizes that contained satin sandals, jewelry and hair accessories into two large paper bags each marked with their names.

“We couldn’t be more pleased with the excellent service. Thank you again.” Cat beamed back at the young woman. Unbeknownst to either reporter, two other shoppers were trying on gowns in another part of the exclusive boutique. A part reserved for the elite customer who required private fittings, fittings without the prying eye of the media.

If Cat Grant knew the proprietor Madeline Darcy provided this special service, she would have camped in front of the store day and night for exclusives on many of Metropolis’ leading female citizens.

Blissfully unaware that the future Mrs. Lex Luthor was serenely trying on wedding gowns, Cat and Diane exited the high-end shop holding several chic looking, but nonetheless cumbersome bags. Fortunately, the gossip columnist had rented a limousine, just so she and Diane could shop without the worry of driving through Metropolis’ torturous traffic or carrying shopping bags.

Diane sat back in the luxurious Corinthian leather seating and took a cup of strawberry yogurt from Cat. “Whew! It took two hours, but we got everything! Talk about one stop shopping! Is this the place where all of your lovely evening clothes come from?”

“Yes. Darcy’s caters to dressing for the businesswoman who has no time. Unfortunately, that describes me perfectly these days.” Cat looked at her ring and smiled triumphantly. “Oh well, despite all the craziness of planning this event, I’m having a ball! After all it's not every day that a girl gets hitched!”

“Still, it is a life-changing event, how do you manage to stay so…so calm?” Diane asked cautiously.

Cat smiled. “Easy. Diane, this is my last hoorah as *the* Metropolis gossip columnist. I want it to be memorable. Once we move to Seattle, I become a part-time reporter and student. Being a married woman, *that’s* something to be nervous about. In comparison, putting together a wedding is easy. Now there’s one last stop to make… George’s wedding present.”

“What did you get him?” Diane’s green eyes glittered with excitement.

“An antique Rolex Oyster watch. This is a rare fifties model in 14k gold case and is fit with a new black leather strap.”

“Where are you getting it from?” Diane nervously glanced at her watch. Their lunchtime was long over. "It’s one thirty. Do we have time to pick it up?”

“Yes, Mr. Mazik said it would be finished by two o’clock. We have plenty of time to get through traffic and back to work. Besides, this shopping trip will make a wonderful article for the Weekend section. Especially since, it is ‘bride season’! So don’t worry about your boss, Mr. Leatherwood. Live a little!” Cat smiled and raised her bottle of Perrier in triumph.

“Oh! I could get used to this kind of living!” Diane gushed, than became serious. “Uh, I have been meaning to ask, why appoint me to be your Maid of Honor? Oh, we’ve worked together on the Planet and even socialized a bit, but this is such a privilege. I thought since you and Lois are on better terms, she might have been a bridesmaid? What about Jenni Reid?” Her voice trailed off.

“Jenni will be here in a couple of weeks before the ceremony. The London Times has allowed her a long vacation to ‘work’ on an assignment. It’ll be great having her in the bullpen again. When Perry finds out she’s on this side of the Atlantic Ocean, he’ll be excited and scared all at once!”

Cat laughed, and then grew thoughtful. “To answer your main question, the kind of reporting I do puts me in contact with a number of very untrustworthy characters. Lying, paying off creepy sources for information, and just plain deceitfulness is a regular part of my job. After a while, being in such an environment seems normal. However, with George’s help, all of that is changing. Planning a wedding meant surrounding myself with honorable people… like you.” She paused and went a little further with her explanation. “Lois Lane *is* trustworthy. Hell, I would follow her into a volcano to get a story, because her integrity and news sense are impeccable. However, this is *my* wedding, and Miss Lane’s attention is on her yummy hunk of a partner.”

“Yeah, that is kind of obvious. Kent’s a real dreamboat. Still, I don’t know what to say except, thank you. What a fantastic adventure! George Amundsen does not know what a prize he’s getting.”

“No, *thank you* for all your kindness and patience, Diane,” Cat’s eyes flashed mischievously. “Now before we get too serious, hand me a strawberry yogurt before I die of starvation!”

***

At LexSolar, an agitated Dr. Scott yelled at an equally hapless lab assistant. “Hurry up and get those two crates packed! Make sure Cliff knows to bring the SUV around the loading dock. I don’t have all day!”

The assistant promised himself that as soon as Scott drove off, he intended to hand in his resignation at the end of the week to the HR department. No job was worth this kind of abuse, special bonus be hanged!

Dr. Scott was careful to avoid walking outside on the loading dock. Ever since yesterday, he had the strangest feeling of watchful eyes scrutinizing his every move. Working for Antoinette Baines had taught him a thing or two about surveillance. As soon as his assistant packed the van and went back to the lab, he intended to sneak into the vehicle and have Cliff drive. They would hole up somewhere in Metropolis until it was time to meet Cameron and Lucky Leon.

***

Just like the last time Lois and Clark visited Pier 17, the weather had turned to rain. However, on this occasion, instead of the slightly chilled rain of spring, it was late summer and the air was just a touch on the humid side. Thick billowing clouds of fog swirling around the pier did not help visibility. They sat quietly in the Jeep looking over Pier 17. There were no ships in the slip, but a number of watertight, painted, standard 8x8x40 ft. shipping containers were stacked in picturesque disorder around them.

“So where is the military? How on Earth can they find us among all these large shipping containers?” Lois wondered as she tried looking for Captain Maynard and his Special Forces team.

“Oh, don’t worry, they are probably hiding in plain sight. Those guys don’t like to advertise their whereabouts.” Clark said.

“So how do we get in contact with them when Scott and company arrive?”

“I’m sure they’ll contact us. Lois, come on, relax, it’s not like Superman can’t show up at the last minute and get us out of a jam.”

“OK,” she sighed, “but I still like to know where the extra cavalry is… in case we need them.”

***

The night staff for the Daily Planet was trickling in as the regular staff began to depart for the evening. Eduardo was entering the elevator, anxious to get home to his family for dinner. Lori had promised to make his favor dessert, peach cobbler. He didn’t want to arrive home late and find the dish gone cold.

Diane was talking on the phone with a make-up stylist Cat had suggested. As the Maid of Honor, the diffident reporter was eager to shine. Hanging out with Cat for the past couple of weeks had boosted her confidence so she wanted to try a new hairdo.

Steve was looking over some research Jack had pulled up for him. The young man showed promise, not just as a researcher, but with whatever task he set his keen mind to accomplish.

“Jack, this is first-rate research on that gambling cover-up. The Metropolis basketball team manager is going to have to answer a lot of uncomfortable questions when this story hits the papers.” Steve smiled at the youngster. “Kent sure knew what he was doing bringing you on board.”

“Thanks, Mr. Landers. I’ll just put this material away in the morgue and finish up the final details in the morning.”

“Great. See you in the am.” Steve laid a beefy paw on Jack’s back in hearty thank-you and walked up the ramp. “Good night, Diane.” He purposely did not say anything to the last member of the morning team. Ralph was sitting at his desk writing a story about the Metropolis flower show. Once again, the senior editor had to put the man into ‘Perry’s doghouse’.

The elevator opened and Jimmy burst in and ran down the ramp, nearly colliding into Steve. He was immaculately dressed in an elegant tuxedo, his ubiquitous photographer’s bag hung over his left shoulder. Diane interrupted her phone conversation and let loose with a low appreciative whistle. Steve, despite the near collision, gave the thumbs up sign in approval of Jimmy’s tuxedo, while Jack shook his head and wondered what his friend had forgotten.

“Yeah, I’m looking for my wide angle lens. I took it out of my bag the other day to put on a filter. I want to get some wide shots of the crowd so that you can really see how many people were there.” Quickly he rifled through his top desk drawer and found the item. “Smooth. Now all I need is a speedy cab.” Seeing Ralph, Jimmy walked over to Jack and, lowering his voice, asked, “Did Lois and CK leave for the stakeout at Pier 17 already?”

“Yeah, he mentioned something about pizza first.”

“OK. See you tomorrow.” With that, Jimmy once again bounded up the ramp and to the stairs. Thinking he could probably make better time running downstairs than waiting for the elevator. Jack, finally let loose with a quiet laugh, gathered up his papers and went to the morgue.

Ralph glanced around the near empty newsroom. He was perfectly aware of the staff’s dislike for him, but someday they would be sorry. Someday he would crack a case bigger than anything Lois and Clark had ever done. Unexpectedly the phone on Clark Kent’s desk began to ring shrilly in the quiet newsroom. Sauntering over to his desk, Ralph picked it up hoping it was one of the other reporter’s sources.

“Daily Planet. Clark Kent’s desk.”

<<Oh, this is an… acquaintance of Mr. Kent’s, my name is Maynard. Is he around by any chance?>>

“Uh no. He’s on a stakeout.”

<<I see? Do you know his exact location?>>

“Yeah, Pier Eighteen? Anyhow, his assistant Miss Lane accompanied him there.”

<<Perfect. In case Mr. Kent contacts you, we are on route and do not expect any delays. >> The phone went dead.

“Figures. Probably one of Kent’s ‘high end’ snitches. Well, that will keep him in knots looking for ‘The Hottest Team in Town’. Maybe with the guy delayed I can get that special scoop after all.” Not thinking for a minute of the damage his lie could have done, Ralph packed up his things and headed towards Pier Seventeen.

***

Lois and Clark sat in the front seat of her Jeep. They had eaten their pizza and talked of many things. Now all was quiet, except for the sound of mellow jazz playing ever so sweetly in the background. They both recognized it as one of Clark’s favorite tunes, Etta James singing “At Last”.

The partners looked out of the windshield and held hands. Since conversation had slowed to a companionable silence they appreciated the opportunity to bask in gentle serenity. More heavy fog rolled in off the water and onto Pier 17 making it particularly hard to see anything under these weather conditions. Off in the distance, the quiet reassuring sound of an ancient foghorn could be heard warning mariners within the vicinity to avoid Metropolis rocky shoreline.

“I love this song.” Clark whispered.

“So does Superman,” Lois answered tenderly. “We danced on air at my apartment remember? It was a special night for me, even if Mayson interrupted us.”

The handsome face colored ever so slightly. “Hurting you was the *last* thing on my mind that night Lois. You looked so disappointed seeing me with Mayson. I wanted us to spend time together at your place. So, I came over in the suit and I couldn’t help myself. It was the most natural thing in the world to dance on air with you.” He smiled sheepishly.

“You know,” he continued, “a relationship is a lot like a beautiful dance; long, slow and everything in between. Sometimes, one of the partners gets out of sync. But if the other one is patient, they can move smoothly back into the dance.

Lois sighed, “Clark Kent, I am not a very good dancer.”

“Yes you are, all you need is practice and the right partner. Mayson Drake is a friend, nothing more; she never has and never will pose a threat to our relationship.”

“It’s okay, Clark,” Lois whispered in a small voice. “Mayson is not the problem… it’s me.”

His mouth twitched slightly. “What makes you say that?”

“There are several reasons. Let me start with my father walking out on his family. My big college crush, Paul Lanahan’s decision to dump me in favor of my former best friend, Linda King. Last, but certainly not least, Claude’s terrible, painful and very public betrayal. Take your pick. I am not exactly the poster girl for stable relationships.” Lois’ hands fumbled with the clasp of her briefcase in an agitated manner. The sweet mood evaporated, as if it had never been.

“Hey, look it’s me, Clark. I am not Claude and I’m definitely not your father.” His eyes twinkled wickedly when he said that. Cupping her face with both of his hands, Clark spoke, his, voice firm and true. “It takes two people to make a relationship work. Deep inside, Lois, you want what we have between us to work as much, if not more than I do. The first part of the job is communication, not yelling or angry silence, but communication. So *talk* to me.”

His eyes watched as she reached into her briefcase, pulled out a crumbled silk hankie, and dabbed her cheeks. “Oh Clark, I make such a mess of things. We *are* supposed to be on stakeout, not exploring our feelings.”

“You forget, partner, I can hear or see anything long before it becomes a problem,” he said, in a gentle rumble.

“Oh, so that means I won’t have to carry around these anymore?” She dived into her briefcase and pulled out her precious Zeiss binoculars.

“Only when you’re going on stakeout with Jimmy… or Ralph.”

He grinned as Lois made a rude noise. “Like *that’ll* ever happen!” Her mood quickly changed to contemplative again. “Seriously, Clark, relationships scare me. I am not very good at being a friend. Ask Molly Flynn or any of my previous work partners. The aftermath of my ‘relationship’ with Claude left a lot of damage to my personal as well as professional reputation. Working as a respected investigative journalist has been my total focus for years simply to repair that damage. Everything else, old college friends, Uncle Mike and even talking with Lucy all fell by the wayside. Kindness and time are things to be appreciated and extended to people. I… I just don’t know where to begin.”

“First off, honey, just about everybody at the Planet respects how hard you work to crack a story and tell the truth. Uncle Mike loves you and knows how much journalism means to you. As for Lucy, she gets a lot of her spunk from you. Look how well she bounced back after the whole Metallo situation? Respect is a great starting foundation to build friendships… like the one we share.”

“Maybe I should stop living in the past,” she sighed. “Claude was another lifetime ago. It is time to build on the good people in my life today and concentrate on *us*.

“What Claude did to you was demeaning and cruel. However, a stronger woman emerged from the ashes of that unfortunate time. Anyone else might have quit rather than face the music at the Planet. Such strength of character is one of the incredible things I love about you.” Clark whispered, his voice hoarse with passion. Between the strains of Duke Ellington’s Rhapsody in Blue, the inky darkness of the night and the enticing scent of Lois’ perfume, he was all too aware of his strong attraction to her, and her terrible vulnerability. “I won’t ever leave you Lois, that’s a promise. Let’s be on the same road for each other - always.”

Clark watched as the striking brown-haired woman nodded her head in a contemplative fashion. He hoped she was taking in all he had said, because every word came from his heart.

In a trembling voice, she asked, “Always?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Miss Lane.”

As an answer, she reached over took his face in her hands and pulled him gently to her. Their lips brushed each other chastely. However, for two people so in love, chasteness was put to the test as the kiss became deeper, richer and so very passionate. Abruptly everything around them disappeared, only the rush of feelings and desire remained. Clark began to kiss her neck as Lois racked nails over his back.

“Lois we have to stop,” Clark murmured as he kissed the tender flesh. “This is not right.”

“Oh no,” she breathed, “Its right. It is perfect. Do *not* stop.”

The blood roaring in Clark’s ears began to cloud his judgment. He had held back for so long and wanted to show her just how strong his love for her was. But a small voice in the back of his mind began to shout above the desire and desperate need. With all the effort of will he could bring to bear, Clark placed his hands on Lois’ shoulders resisting any further touching. “No, we have to stop, this is not right. Not here. Not now. You are better than that. *We* are better than that.”

“Clark… I don’t understand.” Lois answered a hurt tone in her voice.

He gently released her and leaned back in his seat. Slowly, he took a couple of calming breaths before speaking. “When we make love for the first time it should be right. I’ve waited a long time.”

“Well, yes, it has been awhile for…”

“No, uh, Lois, you don’t understand… I have *never* been intimate with a woman.”

“You mean - you’re a virgin?” she said incredulously.

“Yes.” Clark said, only slightly embarrassed. “I’m a Kryptonian. Prior to our discovering the globe my father Jor-El sent in the ship, there were so many mysteries about who I was. The woman who shared my life had to be the *right* one. So I waited.”

“Oh,” her voice small. “That’s wonderful and so sweet. I regret not having waited… ”

“We can wait for each other.” He touched her face tenderly. “But here in the front seat of your Jeep is all wrong.”

He gazed deeply into her eyes, hoping the import of his words sunk into her mind. Being with her as a man was important to him, but their intimacy ought to be proper and beautiful, not rushed like a couple of hot teen-agers in the back seat of a borrowed car.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Clark said, “Hey, this *is* supposed to be a stakeout. Why don’t we keep an eye on Pier Seventeen? At this rate the bad guys will have come and gone.”

“Right.” His partner said with a slightly sullen air. She quickly straightened her clothes and once again, fished into the ‘bottomless’ briefcase and pulled out the Zeiss binoculars again. “Captain Maynard and his guys should be here any minute. It’s almost eight thirty.”

Clark’s mouth corners tugged into a genuine hundred-watt grin, “I cannot imagine us striking out twice at the same place. Maybe you can pitch your cooking lessons with Uncle Mike into a story for the Weekend section?”

At first, she gaped at him in utter surprise, than playfully batted him with her binoculars. Clark cheerfully ducked, enjoying this easy time with Lois.

“That’s it! Both you and Uncle Mike are in *my* doghouse."

“I am always in the doghouse… shh!” He abruptly held his hand up for quiet and Lois fell silent, although questions blazed in her expressive brown eyes.

They both listened intently. Clark activated his night-vision and began scanning the large shipping containers for any sign of life. It was entirely possible his sensitive hearing only picked up an animal denizen of the pier or one of General Zeitlin’s men. Either way he had to be certain, especially with Lois so close by.

“Clark, look over there at that green container!” came the hoarse whisper. “Somebody is shining a flashlight.”

“More than just one somebody. It looks like there are maybe five men walking into that green container over there and they are most definitely *not* military police.”

“How do you know?” Lois asked while pulling her camera with infra-red film from the briefcase.

The temptation to make a remark about the briefcase’s contents played on the tip of his tongue. But cute comments could come after they ‘bagged’ the bad guys.

“Because one of them is Lucky Leon. I seriously doubt if he’s under Captain Maynard’s supervision.”

Under the guidance of Clark’s night vision, Lois took several pictures of the men gathered near the crate talking. Apparently, by the way they kept looking around the pier, they were anxiously waiting for someone.

“Lois, my hearing is picking up the sound of a car; it’s heading straight for the green shipping container.”

“Great! Let’s get some pictures of them in the act, it’ll help the case. Not to mention Perry and the DA’s office will love us forever!”

“OK. Careful, don’t let the light go on in the car.” Clark whispered softly.

“Hey! This is not my first stakeout, farmboy!” she exclaimed with an excited trill in her voice. Eager to be in on the end of the case, Lois put the camera in the briefcase and threw it over her shoulder.

Surreptitiously the reporting duo exited the Jeep and wound their way through the dark and fog-choked maze of shipping containers. The men hanging around the green container began to complain about getting wet. Lucky Leon, sheltered by a small black umbrella, unlocked the door and everyone went inside. Unfortunately, the flashlight went inside the container as well. Once again the duo was grateful for Clark’s infrared vision, otherwise observing the stakeout would be impossible due to the darkness, drizzling rain, and fog.

“Achoo!” Lois sneezed. The unexpected sound caused Clark’s heart to skip more than a few beats. He stared at her with a mixture of dread and surprise on his face. <When did her cold come back?> He asked himself. “Lo-is. Now is the wrong time for sneezing fits,” he whispered.

“Sorry. My nose got a tickle,” she answered in a small embarrassed voice. Nevertheless his hearing detected she was working hard to hold back another sneeze.

They stopped in their tracks for a few anxious moments, on tenterhooks, fearing that perhaps the Intergang members had heard the sound.

“All clear?” Lois queried.

“Yes. But let’s be very quiet.”

“I know.” She replied, irritated at herself and Clark’s pedantic request. She slipped her hand in his to keep up as they inched closer to the shipping container. Unexpectedly two identical cones of light from an approaching black SUV surrounded the container, allowing the reporters to see the entire area with ease. The SUV rolled to a stop. The passenger’s side door opened and a short man stepped out. He hurriedly walked over to Lucky Leon and Cameron Axelrod just as they exited the container. Lois smiled triumphantly.

“Perfect. A bad guy class reunion.” she whispered. Letting go of Clark’s hand, she raised the camera up and quickly snapped off a couple of shots. “Come on, let’s see those crystals, without them this is just a meeting among felons. Nothing of an illegal nature is happening that’ll stand up in court. Speaking of illegal, *where* is the good Captain and his team?”

“Shh. They’re arguing about something.”

Lois strained her ears to listen. Than glanced over at her partner. <Blast! It would be so nice to share powers at a time like this.>

She continued to watch the three men, Scott was excitingly gesturing to the SUV. Lucky Leon shook his head in disagreement while Axelrod hung back watching both men with a cool detached air of anticipation. Unless she misunderstood their body language, something very unpleasant was about to happen.

“I wonder why Dr. Scott is arguing. Why doesn’t he go inside the container?” Clark asked.

“Better yet, bring out those crystals. We need proof Scott was the one behind the theft.”

“Lois, didn’t we agree *Luthor* is the real mastermind of this whole operation?”

“Yeah, but we only have our suspicions, without evidence connecting Scott to him, we have nothing to hang Luthor with. The key to *everything* is catching Scott and the Intergang thugs with the crystals. With the way he’s complaining I’ll bet he’s got a double-cross planned.”

“Nope.” Her partner answered, as he listened to the conversation. “Scott wants more money.”

Lois rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Money? Is that all these crooks ever think about?”

The hairs on Lois’s head tingled when she heard a rough voice growl, “World peace ain’t exactly high on our list of priorities. Now, git your hands up!”

For the second time that evening, the mood took a suddenly and unpleasant shift. A burly, unshaven man wearing the uniform of a LexSolar security guard waved his gun at them, indicating they needed to start walking towards the shipping container. But that wasn’t what concerned them, they could make out the figure of a man by his side, it was Ralph, holding his nose as blood flowed like a river down his face.

“Cl…ark?” His partner looked at him, her brown eyes wide with surprise and apprehension. Lois could tell by his countenance he was calculating the time and speed required to fly her away, but such an action was out of the question. Doubly so with the Daily Planet’s worst reporter standing before them. Ralph would happily reveal to the whole world Clark’s secret identity. Thus, Clark had to be patient and wait for an opening to get her safely away from danger. “Shh… it will be all right.”

Cliff impatiently pointed his gun in the direction of the green container, and the three reporters reluctantly walked over. Their guard breathed hard and Lois could smell the faintest whiff of alcohol. By his voice, she could tell he was the same man who searched Dr. Scott’s office the night of her break-in. Cliff was his name. If she could just distract him, Clark could get away and change into Superman. She wanted to know what Ralph was doing here. His idea of a stakeout was loitering around City Hall listening to stray gossip, not walking around Metropolis waterfront on a damp and foggy night.

“What are you doing here, Ralph? Trying to be a ‘real’ reporter by stealing our story?”

Ralph refused to answer; obviously the injury and his acute sense of self-preservation silenced him.

Clark turned his attention to Cliff. “So they have you doing guard duty while the rest of them share in the loot?”

“Nope, I was just walking back after going to the bathroom and saw this guy wandering around with a camera. I hit him and decided to bring him over to the container with the Intergang guys. Because of the SUV’s headlights, I spotted you two hiding behind the crates. I figured it was wrong for anybody to be out on a night like tonight. So you people have gotta be either reporters or feds.”

“We are Lane and Kent from the Daily Planet and we can put in a good word with the authorities if you’ll let us go.” Clark said, with a whiny plea in his voice.

“Yeah. Right. Do I look dumb or something?”

<Now that you mention it… > Lois thought with grim amusement.

“Hey you two listen to him! He’s not playing! Look at what he did to me!” Ralph whined.

The hulky guard said nothing further, only pushed his gun offensively hard into Lois’ back. She groaned in pain and stumbled. She sensed Clark’s body go tense and knew his Kryptonian reflexes were about to come into play, perhaps seriously harming Cliff. Ralph’s presence be hanged. “Clark!” She gasped out, taking his arm, “I’m all right. Don’t do anything.”

Cliff laughed a nasty barking sound. “What’s the boyfriend gonna do? Nothing as long as I have this.” He waved the weapon around like a mute symbol of his bravery and started to laugh again. As they walked closer to the light from the container, Lois could make out Clark’s features and what she beheld truly frightened her. Clark stopped, turned and spoke to Cliff, his voice low and ominous. “Touch her again and you will see what I can do. Trust me, you have no idea who you are dealing with.” The guard must have seen Clark’s face as well; he cursed loudly and pointed his gun towards the container and his captives.

“Hey, Dr. Scott! Look what I found!” Cliff shouted as he pushed the trio into the light coming from the SUV.

Dr. Scott glanced up to find his henchman pushing two men and a woman towards him. “Moron! That’s all we need are witnesses to this transaction. I’ll deal with you later.”

“Scott, these are not just any witnesses, but the famous Clark Kent and Lois Lane, ace investigative reporters for the Daily Planet. I’ve tangled before with them and it got me arrested and deported. Who is this other one?” Lucky Leon snarled.

“If you were deported, what are you doing back here?” Lois demanded in a bid for time.

“Come Miss Lane, a power source like Harmonic Crystals is too valuable to be left in hands of a bunch of nerdy scientists. It must be shared with rest of world… or our version of it.” Leon said.

“Oh great, reporters, just what we need!” Scott shouted. “Cliff, tie them up and throw them into the shipping container until we complete our business here.”

Cameron Axelrod stepped up and spoke. “Shut up. I speak for Intergang and this bunch aren’t going to be tied to anything but an anchor. But before anything else happens, where are the crystals?”

“Wait a minute.” Scott said genuine fear crept into his voice. “Nobody said anything about murder!”

“Welcome to the real world, Frederick… not that you’re going to be in it much longer.” Axelrod pulled out a gun and pointed the business end at the frightened scientist. Meanwhile an Intergang cohort disarmed Cliff. “Now the crystals if you please.”

Dr. Scott dug into jacket pocket and tossed over his keys, “In the back of the SUV.”

One of the gang members took the keys from Cameron and opened the vehicle. Inside were four very large black crates. It took two men to lift one crate out and drag it over to Cameron and Lucky Leon. Cameron bent down and opened the lid. Inside were dozens of glowing lavender and white crystals, each the size of a man’s fist.

“Oh, now will you look at that,” Cameron whispered reverently. “The ultimate power source of the new millennium. Thanks to you Dr. Scott, Intergang is going to be embarrassingly rich.”

“Since you have what you want, how about letting me go?” Scott pleaded.

“Sorry, Frederick, but Intergang prides itself on tidying up loose ends. You and your man get over there with those reporters.”

Scott started beseeching Cameron to release him, all traces of arrogance vanished. Between his pleading, the insistent rain and the anxiety of the gathering in general, the atmosphere around the shipping container became fraught with tension. Clark leaned down and whispered to Lois, “I’m going to use my heat vision to put out the headlights. When that happens, get behind me and I’ll fly you out of here. I’ll come back for Ralph in the confusion. ”

Lois opened her mouth to answer when a gunshot went off, shutting off the light from the container. Suddenly the night air became filled with the ugly harsh sounds of Dr. Frederick Scott screaming shrilly. Axelrod, tired of listening to Scot,t decided it was time to get rid of any witnesses, and shot the scientist.

Cliff, in a misguided attempt to help his employer, struggled with the two men holding him. One of the thugs had Cliff’s gun tucked in his belt, In the ensuing scuffle, the firearm fell out onto the ground and discharged. The security guard’s stupidity saved his life. He had neglected to activate the grip safety. The bullet lodged in the thug’s shoulder causing him to release Cliff, who turned and landed a solid punch to the stomach of his other captor. He made a swift dive towards the gun before anyone could stop him and began shooting randomly towards the men remaining in the shipping container.

Suddenly, a crisp and commanding male voice using a megaphone could be heard through the thick gloom, “This is Captain Maynard of the military special ops! You are surrounded! Keep your hands where we can see them!”

“We’re saved!” Ralph shouted. His voice was on the verge of hysterics.

“Yeah, the cavalry has finally arrived!” Lois responded acidly.

***

Clark realized this was his chance. He grabbed Lois, moved into the darkness, and flew away. The sounds of rapid gunfire ricocheting off the massive shipping containers, men’s frightened shouts of anger, and Dr. Scott’s screams of pain punctuated the heavy dampness of the night air.

Clark flew at super speed to get Lois out of harm’s way. He set her down by another shipping container, close enough to observe the action, but far enough away for her safety. He spun into the suit and prepared to return to the battle when he heard Lois say, “Be careful, Superman. I’ll wait here and get some great shots of you mopping up the bad guys”.

He could not help but ask, “Are you sure you’ll stay right here?”

“Yes, now go!”

The superhero glazed into her eyes; trust Lois to think about the story first, despite the danger involved. In his best stern, authoritative voice, he replied, “All right Miss Lane.” He sped back to the shipping container and disarmed the criminals and put them in the container just as Captain Maynard and his men stormed into the area.

He counted seven men, not including the still screaming Dr. Scott and unconscious Cliff. He used his night vision to locate Ralph. The coward had run away among the shipping containers. Superman decided not to waste any more time on him.

Where, in the confusion, had Cameron Axelrod, Lucky Leon, and the SUV disappeared to?

A rapid search revealed the crystals were gone as well. Somehow, in all the noise and confusion the two desperate men had managed to elude him. As the special ops team converged on the area, Superman went aloft and crisscrossed the vicinity frantically looking for the rogue scientist and former KGB operative to no avail. To come so close to locating the elusive crystals only to lose them now was unthinkable. He stopped flying and floated a few feet off the ground shutting out all other noises of the wet foggy night. He held that position for a minute or two, listening for the sound of a powerful eight-cylinder engine.

He thought back only ten minutes ago when Cliff caught him off guard. How could he tell Lois he was so intently listening to the gangsters – and the sound of her delicate heartbeat - that he allowed Cliff to sneak up on them? It was a stupid mistake. One that almost got Lois hurt when that goon shoved the pistol into her back. She meant everything to him. If Cliff had caused her any harm…

Unexpectedly off in the distance near Pier Eighteen he heard a heavy car door slam and an angry voice loudly swearing in Russian.

“I knew it! Reporters are dangerous! They trick a professional like you! We should have forced Scott yesterday to tell us where crystals were and take them. But no, you wanted to wait for a submersible to arrive from New London, Connecticut. Idiot!”

Clark did not wait for a response but followed the sound of Lucky Leon’s voice. He arrived in time to see the two men struggling to remove a large black crate from the back of the vehicle. He landed besides them, folded muscular arms over his chest and spoke in his stern Superman voice.

“Gentlemen, I suggest putting down the box and slowly raising your hands in the air.”

“I was wondering when you were going to show up, Superman. Here’s a present for you.” Cameron Axelrod removed a slender black vial from his jacket pocket and opened it, revealing a familiar sickly green glow. Superman’s body broke out in rivers of cold sweat, shaking violently with racking convulsions. He collapsed to the wet ground as waves of nausea and sharp stabbing pains rolled through him.

The Intergang chief walked toward him, knelt down, laying the vial at his feet. Without a backward glance, he returned to his companion and resumed moving the crate. But inexplicably, Cameron turned, raised his voice slightly and spoke to the dying Man of Steel.

“Superman, did you *really* think Intergang would give Diana Stride *all* of our kryptonite? This was just a precaution in case you showed up tonight. These Harmonic Crystals are too important to our future plans to allow any interference.”

Lucky Leon grunted as he helped lift the cumbersome crate. Together the two men struggled to reach the pier’s edge. “Comrade, m…more lifting, less t…talking we need to get to submersible. Superman is no longer problem.”

His companion ignored him and continued. “Oh I don’t know. My street cred would go through the roof if Superman dies by my hand.”

“Fine. You worry about ‘cred’ I worry about getting this crate and others loaded.”

Superman lay on the ground withering in agony, as the deadly mineral’s radiation coursed through his body. His lungs ached. Each breath drawn was sharp, rasping and raw. The darkness around him was closing in and he began to distrust his vision. Any outcries of anguish would go unheeded, knowing these two men did not have a shred of mercy between them. The only thought to give him some small measure of comfort was that Lois did not have to witness him in such horrific pain.

***

After Clark had flown off in pursuit of Lucky Leon and Cameron, Lois fumbled in her briefcase for her cell phone and penlight. Despite the fact that Maynard’s men had secured the Intergang members, she called Inspector Henderson’s precinct and quickly told the duty sergeant what had taken place and where. She hung up, and then ran over to where Dr. Scott lay whimpering in pain, his body covered in water and blood.

“Don’t worry, the paramedics will be here soon.” She spoke comfortingly.

“Fat lot of good a bunch of paramedics are going to do me! At best, I’ll end up in jail. But I ain’t planning on going alone...” Blood frothed between gritted teeth. Before the scientist could speak again, he passed out.

Lois groaned in frustration. The rain had suddenly started coming down harder. She was thinking of heading back to the Jeep when she heard another cry of pain cut through the foggy night. <Clark!> She stood up, took out her penlight and ran swiftly towards the source of that cry, ignoring any thought of danger.

A tense five minutes moving among shipping containers passed with Lois growing more frantic by the second. The fog, rain and darkness were a serious impediment to her progress, but somehow she sensed Clark drawing her to him, guiding her through the maze of containers. As Lois scraped her hand against yet another container, she emerged from the maze and flashed her light upon Clark lying motionless on the sleek ground. Her heart broke at the sight. Off in the distance, Lucky Leon and Cameron Axelrod had their backs to him as they strained to carry a large black crate to the end of Pier Eighteen.

Fear at seeing the man she loved lying helpless motivated her into action. Murderous thoughts of vengeance against these two men for endangering him so callously raced through her mind. Pulling the briefcase over her shoulder Lois ran silently behind Cameron Axelrod, lifted the heavy bag over her head and slammed it down on his head with all her might. The man crumbled and fell wordlessly to the ground, dropping his end of the crate. Lucky Leon howled in agony as the crate landed on his foot with a sickening noise of crushed bone. He too fell, but not as soundlessly.

The reporter spun her back on the criminals and ran towards Clark. She quickly located the kryptonite vial, capped it and placed it in her now battered briefcase. <Maybe Dr. Klein can search for an antidote to this vile mineral.> she mused.

Kneeling down beside Clark, she began to shake him. “Superman, wake up. It’s me, Lois. The kryptonite can’t hurt you anymore.”

L…Lois, why did you risk your life? Cameron might have killed you.” He groaned, trying to sit up.

“Because, you big lunkhead,” she whispered wrapping her arms around him while gazing at his handsome, but deathly pale face through tears. “What are partners for?”

Part Nineteen

“Wait a minute Lane. You took out a two hundred plus pound man with your briefcase? What’s in it? Buckshot?” Henderson exclaimed.

“No, just my makeup case, binoculars, camera, etc… “

“Never mind.” Exasperated, the laconic detective raised a hand to stop her. “Kent told me about that particular bag, but I never believed him. Next time you come down to the station, leave that thing at home. Otherwise, I’ll have it registered as a lethal weapon. Hey, where is your partner anyway?”

“Uh, Clark? He’s huh..”

“Right here!” Clark slowly walked over to them. His usual easy smile was absent, replaced by a grimace. “Hello Bill.”

“Hello yourself!” Henderson looked the other man over through his glasses and grumbled in a well-meaning tone. “You look worse than the time that bum brought you in with amnesia.”

“I have felt better...” Clark began tiredly.

Lois spoke up, “Poor guy, it’s all this damp weather, he probably caught a chill. Henderson, don’t you flatfoots carry around a thermos of hot coffee?”

“No, Lane, we don’t.” He responded tersely. Turning to face Clark, he continued in a kindlier tone. “Look Kent, come down to the station tomorrow and give your statement. Let Lois take you home. Oh, don’t forget, there’s a story behind all these special Ops guys being here and I want to know what that story is!”

Grateful for any excuse to get away, Clark allowed Lois to lead him back to the Jeep. Only when he was safely sitting in the passenger’s seat did he allow himself to slump over and give in to his pain.

“I remember your previous exposures to that disgusting substance.” Lois remarked. “It’s taking an unusually long time to get over the effects to the kryptonite especially with such a small amount.”

“T…the amount of the kryptonite doesn’t matter, only the radioactivity. Cameron left it right at… at my feet. Besides… need sunshine to strengthen… aura after an attack, otherwise it will be some time before my powers return.” Clark managed to say

At that moment, a man in paramilitary garb ran toward the Jeep, waving his hands and calling out Clark’s name. “Mr. Kent! Mr. Kent! I need to speak with you, please.”

Clark recognized the man as Captain Maynard. They waited as he came up to the passenger side of the Jeep and spoke. “I wanted to apologize for arriving five minutes late. If it hadn’t been for Superman, you and your assistant, Miss Lane, might have been killed. But even Special Ops vehicles get flat tires.” Part of Clark wanted to smile at the word ‘assistant’, but he knew Lois was bristling beside him so he quickly corrected the Captain.

“Lois Lane is my *partner*, Captain *not* my assistant. As a matter of fact, if she had not pushed to follow some very thin leads, it is doubtful the crystals might have ever been found.”

Slightly discomfited, the man faced Lois, nodded his head, and quickly uttered a heart-felt apology. “Sorry, Ms. Lane, I didn’t know. The guy that answered Mr. Kent’s phone said you were his assistant.”

Clark waited, knowing a prickly comment was coming, but surprisingly Lois’ words were cordial - even gracious - for Lois. “Apology accepted. Still, I’m surprised that a crack ops team such as yours was late at all. What happened?”

Relieved to be off the hook Captain Maynard replied. “Well to be honest, I called the Daily Planet in order to let you know we would arrive at 8:30. A man answered Mr. Kent’s phone saying he worked with him and told me the location was Pier Eighteen. That was a definite lie. Clark here would have found some way to inform us if there was a change in plans. That was when I was told you were Mr. Kent’s assistant. My team deployed, but just as we reached the waterfront district, our lead car’s tire blew out. We stopped long enough to pick up the men from that transport then headed here. The rest you already know. Good thing Superman arrived in time, otherwise the outcome might have been very different. Please let the big fella know the military really appreciated his help in this matter.”

Clark did not need super hearing, by the sound his partner’s sharp intake of breath to know she was fuming in the worst possible way. He guardedly lay what he hoped was a restraining hand on her knee to stem the tidal wave of words about to strike him and Captain Maynard. He intended to forestall her, but not before she was able to say, “Ralph! Assistant, indeed, I’ll kill that low life!”

Ignoring Lois’ outburst, Clark replied to Maynard in an even tone, “Thank you sir, I will tell him.”

“Oh… uh and one other thing,” the other man suddenly looked nervous and uncomfortable.

“Yes, Captain Maynard?” Clark sighed. He was desperate to get away from the damp surroundings and return to the warmth of his apartment.

“General Zeitlin has asked that no mention be made of the Harmonic Crystals in your newspaper account. National security concerns… you understand?”

Ignoring the reporters’ stunned faces, the Captain saluted crisply and turned back to Pier Seventeen where the military and Metropolis police were loading the Intergang members into vans.

“What? After all we went through to find those crystals for those ‘Special Ops’ guys! Now they want us to *bury* the story!” Lois exploded. She pounded the steering wheel in anger.

“O…only the crystals.” Clark said tiredly. “Look, the military knows we are the ones responsible for finding them. In the future Captain Maynard will owe us a favor.”

Lois was ready to launch into full Mad Dog harangue when she stopped and stared at Clark. They both returned to the previous topic, “Ralph.” The distasteful name rolled off their tongues in unison without hesitation.

“I don’t believe that… that weasel! Not only that, but he tried to steal our story. If it had not been for Superman, his lie could have gotten us killed!” Lois exploded.

Clark wearily nodded in agreement. Weakened from kryptonite radiation exposure, he was in no shape to argue with Lois or defend Ralph. Through half-closed eyelids, he observed Lois start up the Jeep’s powerful engine and drive in her take-no-prisoners manner. Giving in to exhaustion, he closed his eyes and tried to rest, so they drove in companionable silence. After dodging around Metropolis’ late night traffic, they finally arrived in front of his apartment on 344 Clinton Street.

“Let me help you upstairs.”

“It’s no… no problem, I can manage,” he mumbled.

The reward for that last comment was a pair of explosive brown eyes boring into him like a laser. “Ha! I remember saying pretty much the same thing not too long ago. You need help, Kent…besides, I’m the only one around.”

“Is this an indication of… the future?” Clark said in a feeble attempt to tease.

“We’ll see, partner,” she responded in like manner.

So saying, she parked, jumped out of the Jeep, came over to his side, jerked open the door and helped him out. He placed his arm around her shoulders and they began the slow walk toward his building. Several minutes passed as the two of them made a crazy drunken waltz to his apartment. Lois gritted her teeth and was grateful to be in shape, Clark weighed a great deal more than she imagined. Somehow, with his help, they mounted the metal outside steps. He gave her the key, and she opened the door. After more stumbling across the landing, they managed to get down the stairs and entered his cozy home. She deposited him rather unceremoniously onto the couch.

“Whew!” she gasped. “Who needs to go to the gym tomorrow? That was a workout by itself!”

From the couch, Clark nodded and mumbled. “Thanks Lois, I’m home safe and sound.”

“Meow!” A flash of black, white and a little bit of brown hopped onto the back of the couch and cuddled up to Clark.

“Apparently the furball agrees with you.” Lois said, smiling down at the contented feline. “Seriously, Clark, are you sure?”

She stared intently at the handsome young man. Currently he didn’t look strong enough to lift up his head, much less make it to the bedroom and change into sleep clothes.

“Yes. I need a good night’s rest and plenty of sunshine. Hopefully the overcast weather will stop by tomorrow. Please tell Perry I’ll be in late. But the ‘Hottest Team in Town’ the team of Lane and Kent will write all about solving the case of the Shackleton hijacking.”

Lois eased herself onto his couch and picking up his legs and putting them across her knees, she proceeded to remove Clark’s shoes and rubbed his feet. “Even if we can only write about part of the story as per General Zeitlin’s ‘request’ or should I say demand?” As she finished her chore, she gently put his feet on the floor.

“Yes.”

Standing up and looking down at her partner she said, “Tomorrow at the Daily Planet is going to be very interesting Mr. Kent.” Lois bent down over her partner, and brushed his lips with a sweet, but brief kiss, she than stood up and walked towards the door. “Good-night Clark,” she whispered softly with a hint of regret, than let herself out of the apartment.

“Urgh.” Clark groaned as he looked after her. “I *hate* kryptonite!”

***

Clark lay outside on the terrace wearing nothing but a pair of black swimming trunks. For the past three days, he lay in the sun re-charging his powers. Although they were not returning as rapidly as from previous, kryptonite encounters, his unique physiology had already provided subtle indications of healing itself. Lois informed Perry a nasty flu bug had attacked her partner while on the stakeout. Perry wholeheartedly agreed Clark should use some of his accumulated sick days in order to recover.

Lois was over every night, making sure Clark and Pepper were properly looked after. Neither man nor feline complained.

At that moment, he was talking with Martha and Jonathan, reassuring them he would make a complete recovery.

“Now, son, we can be on the next plane out if you say so,” Jonathan repeated for the second time in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Dad, everything is fine. Lois takes very good care of me. We will be out there for dinner as soon as my strength comes back. No way will she miss out on a slice of Mom’s German chocolate cake!”

“So, Lois is coming to visit via Superman express? You two are moving along very nicely,” Martha interrupted; she tried and failed to disguise the chuckle in her voice.

“Mom!” Clark pretended to be upset, but he knew she could hear the smile in his voice. How great it was to chat about his girlfriend to them and be certain about the relationship. It still seemed strange to consider Lois as his girlfriend. She had always been his best friend; now there was something richer and deeper between them.

“Martha, stop teasing the boy about Lois. There are more important matters to be discussed. What happened to the vial of kryptonite Lois took from that crook, Axel?”

“Cameron Axelrod. Dr. Klein has it safely hidden in S.T.A.R labs. He says the distilled kryptonite in the vial was a purer form than anything else I have encountered before. That explains why my body is not at one hundred percent yet.”

“Oh dear, there’s no chance of somebody else getting their hands on it?” His Mother asked.

“No. Dr. Klein assured me he is the only one who knows the vial is in his vault. He wanted to study it and perhaps – someday – find a cure from the effects of kryptonite poisoning.”

“Now son, that sounds like good news. After all, until that rock showed up you were invincible.”

“Yes, but with Dr. Klein’s efforts I might return to that state. Although he’s not exactly sure how long it will take before he can create the antidote.”

Abruptly Clark heard the metallic scratching sound of a key turning the lock, and then a familiar voice called out, “Clark! Are you on the terrace?”

“Yes! Come on back!” He called out. “Mom, Dad I have to go. Lois is here and from the smells of roast chicken, Uncle Mike has sent over another one of his ‘care’ packages.”

“All right dear. Give her our love,” Martha said. Again, she barely managed to conceal a happy chuckle.

“I will, Mom. Bye, Dad.” Clark hung up just in time to see his partner storm onto the terrace and launch into a full-blown babble session.

“Blasted military! Who do General Zeitlin and ‘Special Advisor to the President’ John Cosgrove think they are making us sit on the story of the year! *We* broke this whole thing wide open. If it hadn’t been for us, those crystals would be in the hands of a foreign power by now. They never had a clue! Perry *and* Franklin Stern are trying to get them to see reason, but those government types are as thick as thieves! Urgh! Sometimes I think I should just pack up my word processor and become a lounge singer!”

“Lois, what is this all about?” Clark asked in utter bewilderment.

She rolled her eyes is outraged disgust. “Honestly Clark, weren’t you listening? General Zeitlin does *not* want us to write the story if we even hint at the existence of Harmonic Crystals!”

“I thought we agreed with Captain Maynard that it was a matter of national security to keep knowledge of the crystals’ existence and theft out of the papers?”

“Okay, so we don’t write about the theft, but the crystals’ *existence*? Come on, you knew about them when Bobby first came to us with the information months ago.”

“Yes, but that was within the scientific community, it is not truly public knowledge. We need to stick with our agreement with the military in general and General Zeitlin in particular.”

“Oh, I hope you didn’t mean that play on words, mister!” His partner shot back without rancor.

“Pretty good for a ‘sick’ man,” Clark grinned. “Besides Lois, this article will have all the ingredients of a headline-grabbing, Kerth award winning story: International intrigue, a dangerous former KGB operative illegally on America soil and the notorious crime syndicate Intergang involved. Hey, there’s even a little romance.”

“Romance? What romance?” His partner cocked an eyebrow and gave him a very odd look.

Clark stood up from his deck chair and walked over to Lois, who was all too aware of his current state of near undress. “Why Miss Lane, I thought *everyone* in Metropolis knew about ‘The Hottest Team in Town?” He continued to approach Lois, took her in his arms and kissed her lips ever so gently.

“My… we are feeling better, aren’t we?” She answered grinning.

Slowly they swayed together, enjoying the intimacy of their embrace, when the ground gave way under them. They both looked down and noticed their feet were hovering off the terrace.

“Clark! We’re floating! Your powers are back!” She squeaked in delight.

“Great! I thought they might never return!” Gently, with the ease born from experience, he lowered them to the terrace floor. “Now we can go into the newsroom tomorrow and write the finale to the Shackleton freighter hijacking case.”

“Why wait until tomorrow? We can discuss the outline over dinner and start writing the article. Just like before. Only, could you put on a pair of jeans… and a t-shirt?” Lois looked amused, but slightly embarrassed.

Her partner grinned, “I’ll be back in a jiffy.” A gust of air blew by Lois. Within seconds Clark returned, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt.

Clark set the table while Lois opened the take out bag from Mike’s Americana Café, the savory aromas of rosemary chicken lingering in the air.

“Please tell Uncle Mike thank you, but he doesn’t have to do this for me. I can cook,” Clark said as he reached for a bottle of German Riesling, a light dinner wine.

“Clark, my uncle likes to do this for us, especially since he knows we are going to be working on a story. Now listen, here’s the update on the Intergang members, they are all refusing to talk.”

“No surprise there.”

“True, but the one thing they all do say is that Dr. Scott was the one who engineered the whole plot. Apparently the police search of his personal computer reveals he embezzled the money from LexCorp in order to finance the operation, and then planned to sell the crystals to the highest bidder, using Intergang as a fence.”

“I take it Scott still hasn’t revived from his coma? To deny or confirm what the police found?”

“No. Apparently, he went into shock shortly before the paramedics arrived and despite efforts from the ER doctors, he slipped into coma. It’s not fair, Clark; we were so close to proving Luthor was behind all of this! But without Scott to corroborate what we heard at the energy conference, Luthor walks!” Lois’s expressive eyes flashed in anger.

“Cameron Axelrod still won’t talk?” Clark asked.

“Not a word. Except he did admit to something very strange, evidently Dr. Scott took all the credit when things went well, but Luthor was the scapegoat in case anything bad happened. Axelrod truly believes Scott to be the mastermind behind the hijacking. Scott embezzled LexCorp funds to finance everything. This was all a desperate attempt to clear his gambling debts. That’s pretty much what the police said. Is it possible Luthor is in the clear on this one?” She rubbed her chin while contemplating the matter.

“Wait a second. Lucky Leon was there!”

“Sorry, partner, more political interference where Leon is concerned, this time *another* government has announced their prior claim to the former KGB operative. General Zeitlin has him under wraps in a federal prison awaiting extradition to Russia. They want him more than we do. Let’s face it, Clark. Luthor wins.” She said this while filling his plate with scalloped potatoes, grilled squash and the chicken.

“Well, going back to your original interview with Ms. Milan, she withheld nothing from you. All the legal paperwork her assistant sent over checks out with our in-house counsel. Everything points to Dr. Scott as our man,” Clark sighed, as he poured some cat food into Pepper’s bowl. Hearing the dry food hitting the bowl, the hungry feline bounded out of the bedroom alcove and into the kitchen, eager for his dinner.

“Yeah, but why not embezzle the money, pay your gambling debts, and leave town? Why get involved with Intergang in the first place? They are not known for being reasonable. Come on, let’s eat dinner before it gets cold,” his partner said, barely hiding the disappointment in her tone.

As if by silent agreement, any discussion of the case was on hold while they ate. Unbeknownst to them, this was to become a nightly routine. Have dinner, but stop all office discussions until the dishes were put away. In this way, they created a distinction between their lives at the Daily Planet and their new life as a couple.

The sun had sunk into the horizon and the apartment was getting dark, when Lois finished drying the dishes. She walked over to Clark’s small desk and looked over his shoulder while he began typing the outline of the story.

“You’re starting with our original stakeout? I don’t want people to think we missed an opportunity to bag the bad guys!” She squeaked.

“Hey, the story needs a beginning. Have the reader follow us on an investigative journey… ”

“Journey?” His partner responded stiffly, cutting him off. “Are we writing an article or a bestselling novel? We need to get to the facts! Let me sharpen my pencils and break out my yellow pad. I’m so glad to finally see a pencil sharpener in this apartment!” She dived into the recesses of her briefcase.

“The best conclusion to this story would have been if we had solid proof Luthor was the true mastermind behind this entire plan,” Clark muttered as he typed.

“I hear he’s in Greece attending a business conference with Ms. Milan and some of his staff. Isn’t it just like him to be out of town when all of this blows up? The perfect alibi,” Lois sighed and shook her head.

***

The two young men, impressed into service for that evening’s activities, opened the large ancient oak double doors. The doors led to a short flight of broad white stone steps onto an expansive stone and marble terrace. In the doorway stood a graceful, but nervous, Jane Winley wearing a very pleasing-to-the-eye sleeveless and gathered-at-the-waist ruby red gown. She carried a simple bouquet of white roses, wrapped in baby’s breath.

The small gathering of seated guests, including her husband Jason, gazed upon her, smiling with approval. Asabi, standing in his place as Best Man, nodded to someone and Handel’s “Water Music” began to play. With a delicate even stride, the Matron of Honor descended the stone steps and walked down the aisle toward the officiant. Behind her in the brightly lit passageway, stood the bride and groom, eagerly waiting to make their entrance.

***

While they waited to make their entrance, Aykira was thinking. <Has it only been three days since he proposed? It seems so much longer. I wish there had been more time to savor our engagement, but Lex is correct, time and the media are against us. Jane and I were able to get our dresses without Ms. Grant discovering us at Darcy’s. There were so many details to handle and all of it under the radar. Still everything came together perfectly. This is the happiest day of my life!> A hint of sadness fleetingly moved through her heart. Despite having a few good friends like Jane and Jason, she wished Bern could have been there. But of course, that was impossible. She did wonder about one other thing, Lex’s reaction when he discovered tonight would be her first time.

“Are you ready, my love?” the groom asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“Yes Lex. Are you ready?” she answered, hazel eyes shining.

***

Her answer triggered reflective view of his own. Once more Lex thought about the space station, former lovers and vain pursuits. <How foolish to waste precious time! I should have been pursuing Aykira, not chasing a dream of building a space station - the highest manmade object in the heavens. What rubbish! Marriage to a good woman is a better monument to my parents. These past few days have been the real dream. Aykira by my side, making plans for this day and the seven perfect days remaining to us until the surgery will be heavenly. Afterwards… ah, afterwards must attend to itself.>

Lex put any further thoughts about his surgery aside and answered by taking her slim hand in his and kissing it affectionately. Since arriving at the island of Santorini, Aykira’s brown skin had deepened to a glowing bronze from exposure to the Mediterranean sun’s intense rays. Her wedding gown, a luxurious, double-layered white shirred silk creation with a bodice, defined Aykira’s slender waist. The details of princess seaming with corset-inspired rhinestone embellishment visually sculpted her shapely, silhouette. Her bouquet was fashioned from majestic red anemone or ‘windflower’ which means undying love, accented by lush wild green ferns found in the Stone Villa’s garden.

Lex wore a simple collarless white linen shirt and pants with a red linen sash tied smoothly around his waist. The sash gave him an air of a swash-buckling adventurer.

She smiled, eyes glistening with unshed tears. How much she loved and cared for this man! No matter how long her life spun out, no matter what future trials they would face together, her mind would always hold today’s events forever etched in stone.

Jane arrived at her place by the railing; she turned around looking back at the couple, beckoning them with a slight nod of her head. Lex took Aykira’s arm in his and together they walked down the steps to the terrace where the officiant, Mayor Spyros Chiros, awaited them. He was an impressive figure of a man in his mid-sixties with a shock of white hair, twinkling blue eyes and on his upper lip a perfectly trimmed white mustache. He stood close to the black wrought iron railing, his back ramrod straight to the sea.

Aykira’s breath caught in her throat by the majestic view. The exquisite Mediterranean sunset played over waning light, reflecting off the mildly sparkling azure blue Aegean Sea. In the distance, hungry seabirds cried aloud for all to hear. Light gusts of air swirled around them, filling their nostrils with the scent of fresh flowers and ocean breezes.

Aykira and Lex halted. Asabi and Jane smoothly took their places behind them. The couple then stood serenely before the mayor, listening intently as he bound their separate lives into one.

“My friends, we gather here on this day to celebrate the love and union of two people, blending their formerly separate lives into an unyielding woven tapestry of everlasting love and friendship. May they rejoice in their strengths and work with each other’s weaknesses. May they provide refreshment for each other at day’s end. May they remain in each other’s eyes eternally as they are today, forever beautiful, forever loved. May they remember to be each other’s shelter from the wind as times shall be good in their lives as well as troublesome.”

The bride’s eyes shone with unshed tears. Aykira thought, <How sweetly true the Mayor’s words were!> They had pledged themselves to each other the day Lex gave her the engagement ring. This ceremony made it official in the eyes of God and man.

“Are there rings to be exchanged?” The Mayor asked the couple.

A smiling Asabi, resplendent in a dark red silk jacket, reached into his pocket, and removed a small box, similar to the one which had held Aykira’s engagement ring. This one contained two rings. One was a diamond and gold band shaped to fit up snugly against her engagement ring; the other was a man’s gold wedding band, etched with a design very familiar to the bride. He handed the ring to Jane who turned and gave it to Aykira.

She looked at it and took in a quick breath; Lex’s ring matched her silver beacon ring. Mute acknowledgement to the world he understood her mission and valued the sacrifice she was making by remaining here with him. The gesture deeply touched a heart already overcome with emotion.

“Aykira, please place the ring on his finger.” When she had done so, the Mayor spoke again. “Aykira Kamaria Milan, do you take this man as your companion in life – your husband?”

“I shall… with all my heart,” She responded in a trembling voice.

“Good. Lex, please place the ring on her finger.” With hands, slightly shaking he slipped the dazzling ring on Aykira’s finger. Her delicate long bronze fingers set off the jewelry perfectly.

“Alexi Anton Luthor… do you take this woman as your companion in life - your wife?”

“I shall... with all my love.”

“Then by the power vested in me by the people of Santorini and Almighty God, I now pronounce you man and woman… husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

They turned to each other, faces wet with tears, hearts engulfed in deep satisfaction. Lex gathered Aykira into his arms, kissing her with all of the ardor he possessed. Behind them the guests stood on their feet, cheered and applauded happily.

After enthusiastically thanking the Mayor for performing an exceptional, yet simple service, in high spirits, the radiant couple moved back into the Villa’s large garden with their joyful guests to share their first meal as husband and wife.

Chef Andre’s staff had outdone themselves classically decorating each guest’s table with snowy white linens and red scented candles. In the center of the garden were square guest tables set in a “U” shape surrounding the bride and groom’s circular table. The newlyweds’ table had white linens with a red runner. Atop the linen were clear votive candleholders painted with metallic gold stripes around the base. Each was filled with aromatic white candles creating a circle in the center of the table. Within the votive center sat a low vase of white roses, their delicate scent wafted soothingly through the outdoor dining room.

As the guests mingled and looked for their seats, in the background, Mozart’s “Eine Kleine Nachemusik” played softly.

On each plate lay a placard; on hers it read in flowing golden cursive script: Aykira Milan-Luthor.

“Mrs. Luthor,” Lex smiled as he indicated the chair.

Lex pulled back and held the chair, than pushed it in when she sat down. Both of them were excited and nervous, like a couple of teen-agers on their first date. Lex took a silken napkin from the table and lightly dabbed the tears from Aykira’s face. They both wanted time to slow down and allow themselves to enjoy this evening, to imprint it into their memories to return and visit frequently.

Once the guests stopped mingling and found their seats, Chef Andre and his wait staff appeared from the kitchen holding meze appetizer platters consisting of olives, feta cheese chunks, hummus dip, carefully sliced warm pita bread and stuffed grape leaves. A smiling, chubby young woman presented the bride and groom with a carafe of red wine and two crystal cut wine goblets. She poured the liquid with a flourish, giggled, and quickly disappeared back into the kitchen.

Several minutes later, the main course of lamb, roasted herbed potatoes and spinach salad was brought to the tables. Everyone acknowledged the sumptuous repast and soon only the sounds of silverware clinking on bone china could be heard over the softly playing dinner music. Lex turned to his wife and smiled.

“My darling, may I say you look ravishingly beautiful this evening.”

“Thank you Lex. This is like a dream. I love being here on Santorini at the Stone Villa with you tonight.”

He took her hands gently into his own, kissed them and whispered. “No. I should be the one thanking you. There has never been a better day in my life. I love you so much and look forward to showing you just how much… ” Lex’s eyes shone with desire.

Her face grew flush with warmth and not a little nervous anticipation. “We have each other and… the nights ahead.” She glanced at the beautifully decorated table, their happy guests, and the open space in the garden and smiled. In the background, could be heard the wonderfully romantic classic song from Casablanca “As Time Goes By”. She looked at him and whispered. “Would you care to dance with your wife?”

Lex’s lips pursed into a wooing smile, “You need but ask.”

He took her hand and led her onto the floor. They came together in perfect unison, moving easily to the strains of the classic song. The guests smiled contentedly and softly sang along, watching them sway tenderly. Aykira laid her head on Lex’s shoulder listening to him hum the melody in her ear. All too soon, the song ended. Holding hands, they returned to their seats.

In a turnabout of tradition, the wedding guests walked over to the bridal table, offering congratulations and well wishes. Mayor Chiros with his wife Anna and their sons, who acted as ushers, approached first. Asabi bowed deeply and clasped his hands together, profoundly moved to see Lex so at peace. Jane and Jason came next wishing them joy and a long life together. Jason wrapped a beefy arm around Jane and boomed out, “Lex, if you are *half* as happy as I am, married life will be a very good thing.”

Sheldon Bender had hung back until the other guests had spoken than came over with his wife Liz. The two men exchanged pleasantries, shook hands, and smiled. “Look after the board while we are gone, Sheldon. Let them know about my marriage to Aykira as soon as you return.”

“Of course Lex, the board shall have a number of questions. This marriage is - quite a surprise.”

“Not as surprised as they will be.” Lex smiled tightly. Even Sheldon did not know the extent of Luthor’s condition. However, Sheldon did agree… reluctantly that Aykira was the perfect solution to whom should run the corporation while Lex recovered from surgery.

“Enough with business talk!” The petite Anna Chiros shouted good-naturedly. “This man,” she pointed emphatically at Lex. “Exchanged vows less than an hour ago and already talk turns to work! Shame on both of you, now is a time for music, dancing and laughter!” She pointed to the couple. “Come now; cut the wedding cake, yes?”

“Lex, my love, a wiser mind than yours has spoken. Come.” So saying, Aykira took him by the hand and they walked over to a scrumptious white three-layer cake with delicate red piping, baked not by Chef Andre, but one of the local Santorini bakeries Lex was fond of. To happy shouts and enthusiastic applause, the couple sliced into the cake and placed thick wedges onto crystal plates, which glistened in the candlelight. They each took a plate and began serving to the reception guests. It was definitely not traditional and everyone thought it was very sweet.

***

Time seemed to move so rapidly. No matter how many photos they took with people, dances spun out on the floor or quiet chats with friends, the evening drew to its inevitable conclusion. Guests began to drift away, calling out their congratulations to the bride and groom. Aykira gave Jane a final hug than thanked her for all she had done. Lex had a few words with Sheldon Bender then bade his lawyer goodnight.

They walked to the bridal table. Lex bent down and took a fork in his hand and then he cut a small piece of cake and fed Aykira. She did the same to him. They laughed and gave each other a generous hug, then sat down for a moment to listen to the quiet of the evening. Lex traced the line of her jawbone with his lips. The candlelight caught a wickedly mischievous glint in her hazel eyes as she gently gasped in pleasure. “Suddenly I do not feel very hungry for cake. However… I am rather sleepy. Care to join me?”

Her husband made no secret of the eagerness he felt. “My sweet, I thought you would *never* ask.”

They stood up from the table. Lex softly blew out the candles then came around to her side of the table, took her hand in his and together they walked up the white stone pathway and entered the Villa’s master suite. Aykira’s husband closed the heavy wooden door firmly behind them.

Chef Andre emerged from the kitchen, followed by the chubby servant girl and others. He shook his head, but smiled happily. Tonight, he and the rest of the kitchen staff would work - then feast.

***

After nearly four days of battling with General Zeitlin, John Cosgrove and the federal government over the right to mention the Harmonic Crystals, Lois and Clark were finally permitted to write the story of the Shackleton hijacking from beginning to end… still omitting any knowledge of the crystals.

It was galling censorship at the highest level, but everyone on at the Daily Planet involved from Mr. Stern and the Board of Directors to Lois and Clark agreed it was the only way to get the story told.

***

It was very early the next morning as the reporting team emerged from the elevator. With quick steps, they jauntily walked down the ramp and entered the unusually quiet newsroom. They were still intensely discussing the government’s censorship of their story.

“I still cannot believe you are so calm about this whole situation, Clark. What about freedom of the press?”

He looked at the snapping brown eyes and the flush of emotion in her voice; at times like these, she stirred his heart more than he could bear. But the conversation was one of a serious nature, not a time for romance.

“Look, it’s like this, all things should be recorded, but not all things should be reported immediately. The crystals are a completely proven energy source; unfortunately, EPRAD is afraid of adverse publicity about the new technology. The agency wishes to avoid the media embarrassment of failure.”

“You mean like the tiles falling off the old space shuttles?” Lois responded.

“Yeah, government funding might dry up if there is a problem and the public might point to the crystals as a ‘scapegoat.’”

“Maybe, but the public needs to be educated. The people have a right to know. What better way than to learn from our article?” Lois answered, completely dissatisfied with her partner’s answer.

“Is this the best way to introduce something this important? Who knows? In six months, the gag order will be off and we can have an exclusive in our laps! Remember, Captain Maynard and his boss *owe* us. Consider them a future source.” They reached Lois’ desk and he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Honey, you’re not happy with this arrangement, neither am I. However, we have a story to write. Let’s give Perry our best. Show those guys on the Kerth committee a good, strong finish!”

He noticed the lines on her forehead slowly disappear as his words began to sink in. Finally, a small smile came to her lips. “Okay partner. One of these days soon, General Zeitlin, and his cronies better give us an exclusive on something worthwhile!”

“Great!” Clark said, “Now let me…”

Before Clark could finish his sentence, they both looked up to see Franklin Stern herding Ralph into Perry’s office.

“I wonder what that’s all about?” Clark said into her ear.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good. Mr. Stern rarely comes downstairs this early for idle chats. Ralph is in serious trouble, which I doubt he can wriggle his smarmy way out of,” she said.

Putting the incident to the back of their minds, the reporters busied themselves with their early morning work routines: Lois sipped on her low-fat mocha, thinking about how to weave a number of sidebars into the main article while Clark organized his notes. In a few moments, they were deeply engrossed in constructing the Shackleton story’s final outline.

Unexpectedly the morning quiet was broken when Perry leaned outside his office and quietly – almost gently called Lois and Clark in for a meeting.

“Uh oh,” Clark said, as he nervously touched his glasses. “This could be another round of arguments with General Zeitlin and company.”

“Yeah, but why include Ralph?”

Her partner shrugged his shoulders and gently placed his hand on the small of Lois’s back as she walked ahead of him to the senior editor’s office. Off to the side, Clark noticed a morose Ralph stood by the window, trying hard to disappear.

“Lois, Clark, thanks for coming in. This won’t take very long. Clark, glad to see that flu bug finally let you go.” Perry’s smile gently faded as he turned to the Daily Planet’s owner and publisher sitting nearby. “There’s a matter Mr. Stern and I need your participation on before we can go further with any action.”

“Sure chief. What is it?” asked Clark as he sat down in his now familiar spot on the plaid couch.

Before Perry could speak, Franklin Stern’s booming voice filled the suddenly tiny office. “Excuse me Perry, but let’s forego the delicacies. We need to get to the bottom of this situation,” Turning to the reporting duo, he asked. “Did either of you inform Ralph of a change in location for your stakeout?”

Clark watched as Lois turned, eyes dancing with fury at Ralph. Her voice steely as the angry words lanced the air. “We most certainly did *not*.”

“She’s right, chief. I never had a discussion with Ralph about our stakeout’s location.”

Perry sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin, “Well, now. Ralph here just finished telling us something very different. Care to straighten matters out, Ralph?”

The toadying man bolted from his position by the window, as if suddenly brought to life. “I thought it was Pier Eighteen, so I told this guy the same thing. I was just passing on the message. No harm. No foul.”

“But that does not explain why you lied to the caller. Captain Maynard said as much. Also, why did you show up at Pier Seventeen rather than Eighteen? Was it to possibly steal our story? If it were not for Superman and the Special Ops team, we all would be dead. Did you think about that?” Clark asked. His normally mild voice had a decided edge to it.

“Uh, well, no.” Ralph, sensing things were not going his way, changed tactics. “Besides, if it hadn’t been for that no-good snitch, Bobby Bigmouth, I would be the one with this story, not the ‘Hottest Team in Town!” This last was said sneeringly. As if, Lois and Clark owed him something. He continued by saying, “I just wanted to prove myself you know? Maybe get a little respect, like Eduardo or Steve.”

“Wait a second. You were the one who paid Bobby with a rotten Egg Salad Sandwich?” Clark fired back, his voice filled with surprise.

“Yeah, I was in a hurry. So I grabbed a day old sandwich from the mission shelter before I met him,” Ralph shrugged, “I didn’t think he would notice… ”

Clark could sense rather than see Lois roll her eyes in derision. ‘Mad Dog’ Lane was in full attack mode. She laced into him. “Ralph, Bobby may be a lot of things, but he does not lack taste buds, a keen sense of smell nor is he stupid! No wonder he called us that night.”

“How was I supposed to know? He was just a snitch!” Ralph whined.

“The first thing a good journalist remembers is to respect his sources. That ‘snitch’ in the past has provided Lois with top grade information. How do you think she got her first Kerth? From a tip Bobby gave her!” Perry shook his head. “It’s the reason why Lois and Clark are exceptional investigative reporters. It is also the reason why Eduardo and Steve are highly esteemed for what they do in their particular fields. Jimmy Olsen, while collaborating with Lois, wrote his first story for this paper during the Nightfall asteroid threat. The story needed a polish and Lois partnered with him - but despite his rocky start, he is a better reporter than you’ll ever hope to be.”

Franklin Stern sat in the big leather chair watching the byplay between the three journalists and their editor. When he spoke with his dark rumbling voice, all eyes turned to him.

“Ralph, apparently this Bigmouth fellow was treated in a rather shabby manner. The same slipshod attitude was displayed toward your fellow reporters. That seems to be a pattern. I spoke with HR and apparently, your file lists a number of discipline and behavioral problems. At least two female reporters hinted at harassment.” Stern brought his cool gray eyes to gaze hard at Ralph. “Got anything to say about that?”

Ralph’s face grew flush and he stumbled over his words. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I see.” The big man stood up and walked over to the door with a prizefighter’s grace, belying his age. “Well, those days of pretending ignorance and sponging off this paper are over. This morning I had a little talk with your uncle. If it were not for him putting considerable pressure on Perry, your sorry butt would have been tossed out of here ages ago. He is no longer on the board of directors at the Daily Planet. I figured it was time to clean house in the bullpen as well.”

Looking to Perry, the publisher said, “The executive suite is my neighborhood, this is yours. Miss Lane, Mr. Kent, please accept my apology again for interrupting your morning. I look forward to *finally* reading the Shackleton article from beginning to end.” With those words, Franklin Stern exited Perry’s office, closing the door firmly behind him.

Ralph turned to Perry, his mouth open. “Now wait just a minute. He can’t do this!”

Perry grinned fiercely, like a hungry lion. “Oh, he meant it all right. The Daily Planet stands for decency and honor. We expect our employees, *especially* the reporters, to uphold that standard. On many occasions it has been painfully obvious you want nothing to do with those standards.”

“By willfully lying about where Lois and Clark were, they might have been killed. Then you decide to slip over to the docks with the intention of stealing their story. Again, putting lives at risk. We cannot tolerate such behavior. As of this moment, Ralph you no longer work for this paper. I intend to make sure the other newspapers in Metropolis and the state of New Troy are aware you are not worth hiring. Pack up your desk now. A guard is waiting outside and will remain in the bullpen until you leave.”

Ralph, in shock, stood trying to talk, but words failed him. Slowly, he walked in a desultory fashion out of Perry’s office. The security guard, waiting just outside the door, escorted him to his desk.

Clark let out a slow, low whistle, looked at Lois and said, “What a morning, it’s not even seven thirty yet!”

“Great shades of Elvis!” Perry crowed, “I’ve wanted to do that since the first day he walked onto the newsroom floor.”

“Obviously, it explains why he seemed to slip by all the rules. Chief, it must have been awful.” Lois said.

“Yeah, his uncle’s ‘subtle’ pressure was difficult to deal with, but now at last his meddling stops.” Perry’s face relaxed and a brilliant smile erupted. “What are you two sitting around for? Elvis is most certainly not coming into the building! We have a newspaper to run! I expect to read all about the Shackleton hijacking in the evening edition!”

Grateful to return to their work, Lois and Clark began to walk towards the door, when the sound of Perry clearing his throat stopped them. “Uh, don’t forget you two promised to tell Bill Henderson ‘the story behind the story’.”

“Right chief,” Lois squeaked in response.

***

“This is the best thing you two have written since… well since ever!” Perry exclaimed for the entire newsroom to hear. “Lane and Kent, the hottest team in town, does it again!” Cheers went up as the latest copies of the Daily Planet front page made its way around the bullpen.

SHACKLETON HIJACKING SOLVED! INTERGANG MEMBERS CAPTURED!

By Lois Lane and Clark Kent

Jimmy, Eduardo and several other co-workers came over to offer sincere congratulations, followed by hearty handshakes and in the case of Diane a warm hug to Lois. Even Cat came over, generous in her best wishes to the reporting team.

“That’s quite a coup, bagging an international criminal, four rogue scientists, and several Intergang members, all of whom have outstanding warrants,” Jimmy shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “Just another working day in the lives of Clark Kent and Lois Lane: reporters extraordinaire!”

Eventually the noise died down, well-wishers went back to work, and the Planet’s bullpen settled down. Clark stood at Lois’ desk talking with Perry.

“The only ‘fly in the ointment’ is Dr. Scott. I wish he would regain consciousness so we could establish a link between him and Luthor.” Clark complained uncharacteristically.

“I don’t believe it!” A familiar voice shrieked.

Lois, Clark, Perry and the entire newsroom looked over to Cat, the gossip columnist was standing up, her animated face in shock. Lois responded nonchalantly. “That could cover a lot of ground, Cat. What don’t you believe?”

After her initial reaction, Cat put down the receiver and began excitedly thumbing through her rolodex… snickering gleefully. She tilted her chin to the phone, “That was Anna, our correspondent in Athens. Lex Luthor got married - *last* week at his home, The Stone Villa, on the Greek isle of Santorini!”

The entire bullpen turned around. A group normally jaded from hearing just about any kind of story. How could something so completely newsworthy slip past some of the best journalists in the business, if not the world?

A chorus of voices rang out:

“Who did he marry?”

“Congressman Gregg’s daughter?”

“Arthur Chow’s niece?”

“A stripper?”

This last comment came from Eduardo. Steve quickly shut him up by punching him in the shoulder. Diane followed by tapping him on the head. “Eduardo. That comment is so unlike you!” she snapped.

“Sorry,” he muttered sheepishly, “but with Luthor anything is possible!”

“OK, who did he marry?” Lois asked.

“Lex Luthor’s new wife is his long-time assistant… Aykira Milan.” Cat shouted in utter disbelief.

“When did they start seeing each other and how did we miss it?” Was the consensus in the bullpen.

“Yeah, can you believe it? There was not the *slightest* indication they were dating. Hey, I’ve *got* to call my source at LexCorp. *Somebody* has the dirt on this wedding and I’m going to find it!” So saying, Cat picked up the phone and furiously began punching the number to reach her source.

“Chief, this story is way too big for a gossip columnist to handle! I interviewed Ms. Milan…uh Mrs. Luthor only a few months ago. She’ll talk to me!” Lois pleaded.

The Planet’s Senior Editor started issuing orders to the bullpen at large. “Find out everything you can about this woman!”

“Way ahead of you, chief!” Jack answered as he produced a thick file and handed it over to a grateful Lois. “This is all the research on the former Ms. Milan. Miss Lane asked me to work up the information a while ago. It should save us some time.”

“Great work, Jack!” Jimmy beamed at his young friend and protégé.

Cat slammed down the phone, stood up, pumped her fist in the air, and shouted triumphantly, “I got a quote from the new Mrs. Luthor!” She started reading from her notepad, ‘My marriage to Lex is taking us on a sojourn, a magnificent sojourn. I have found my other half in him, my friend. In him, I have found my lover, my companion. The man I was searching for.’

Jimmy whistled, “That’s quite the quote. She must really be in love.”

“Or have a great speech-writer,” Lois mumbled under her breath.

“Come on Lois, even you can tell true love, especially now.” Clark said softly.

His partner blushed ever so slightly and placed a gentle hand on his. “I’m very surprised that Clark Kent, Lex Luthor’s greatest detractor, is hoping his marriage is a success.”

Clark shrugged his shoulders and said, “As long as he’s not trying to marry a certain beautiful reporter, I can wish him the best of everything!”

Suddenly the phone rang shrilly on Lois’ desk. She picked it up and after identifying herself, she listened to the person on the other end. Her eyes suddenly grew wide with astonishment and she grabbed a notepad and pencil, writing furiously. “She wants to meet us when? Ok. We’ll be there! Thank you!”

Lois’ smile was one of smug satisfaction. She leaned back in her chair and began to laugh very quietly. “Poor Cat. That was the new Mrs. Luthor’s assistant on the phone. Clark and I have been invited to her office for a two on one interview in a week.”

“Great Shades of Elvis!” Perry raised his clutched hands skyward and crowed, “The circulation is going to go through the roof!”

Part Twenty

Clark and Lois walked slowly down the ramp into the bullpen after a thoroughly exhausting day chasing down a lead provided by Lois’ other favorite snitch, No Knees Nolan. He had information regarding the CEO of Stone and Mercantile who was finally going to name names in a tax scandal guaranteed to send several prominent Wall Streeters running for their lawyers. Unfortunately, after cross-checking Nolan’s tip with impeccable resources within the financial world, the story did not pan out. Neither reporter was very happy about returning without even the faintest glimmer of an article.

Currently, the ‘Hottest Team in Town’ was stone cold. They both hoped the upcoming interview with Aykira Milan-Luthor yielded better results.

Lois glumly sat down in her chair, kicked off her red pumps and turned on the computer. She glanced around the bustling newsroom and was grateful Ralph’s tenure at the Planet had ended. The last thing she and her partner wanted this afternoon was listening to his needling sneers. She glanced over to Clark’s desk in time to see him open a card accompanied by a small bouquet of flowers on his desk. Curious, she spoke up, with only a tiny hint of jealous concern in her voice. “What’s that – a love note from a secret admirer?”

He finished reading the card then smiled softly, “No, it is a thank-you note from Grace Chen for the story on Rhapsody Knits.”

A puzzled expression crossed her lovely features, “But that was written over four months ago. Why is Grace sending flowers now?”

Perry leaned out of his office and boomed out happily for the bullpen to hear. “That was *before* the story was nominated for a Merriweather award! Congratulations Kent! Great way to close out the year!”

Members of the bullpen came over to pat Clark on the back with hearty well wishes. After all, being nominated for a Merriweather in the newspaper publishing business was like being nominated for an Oscar in the film industry. Imagine having two such talented persons on the Daily Planet’s reporting staff! No wonder they were the ‘Hottest Team in Town’!

“Smooth moves, CK!” Jimmy gave him the thumbs up sign.

Steve, Eduardo, Diane, and Cat came over with personal good wishes. Jack phoned from the stacks; apparently he was working on a rush research project for Steve.

Clark accepted the accolades with his usual combination of modesty, humility, and Midwestern charm. His partner stood nearby, basking in the reflected light of his glory. After all, what was good for Clark was good for her. The story was excellent, he had worked extremely hard on it and although it was laced with his touchy-feely style of writing, it was Clark Jerome Kent at his best.

Franklin Stern came downstairs a few minutes later to congratulate him personally. This was indeed a very different publisher than the previous owners, who preferred to remain upstairs and only interacted with reporters when they wanted to put - or in some cases keep - their names out of the paper. Mr. Stern’s fascination with the daily workings of a newspaper was refreshingly different. Therefore, whenever he was in town, it was unusual *not* to see him walking through the newsroom asking direct questions of everyone, from reporters to copy boys. The best part of all; Franklin Stern seriously *listened*.

The results of those direct questions produced improvements in the newsroom décor, the vending machines and especially computer upgrades. The one thing it did not change was the coffee maker - Mr. Stern loved the sludge dispensed out of the cranky old machine.

Eventually the bullpen settled back down to work, Mr. Stern entered Perry’s office laughing, a good sign that peace existed between the Senior Editor and Publisher. Lois walked over to Clark’s desk and sat in the visitor’s chair. “Care to go to dinner tonight and celebrate…my treat?”

“Dinner sounds good, but I know this perfect little place outside of town and I hear the cook is expecting us.” Clark answered in a conspirator’s whisper.

“Is the cook baking German sweet chocolate cake?” Lois asked hopefully.

“She might be,” he teased.

“Great! We could use some comfort food after today! Perry needs an update on one of my other stories, then we can get out of here.”

***

Once their respective journalistic duties were complete, the energized duo raced upstairs to the roof, a very different pair from the couple that walked into the newsroom an hour previous. Clark spun into the Suit and gathered Lois into his powerful arms. They stopped for ten minutes at her apartment so she could change into jeans and a blue t-shirt. There was also a pair of crazy socks Lucy had mailed over as a gag gift. Not exactly Lois’s style, but they were fun in a quirky kind of way. She opened her back window and via ‘Superman Express’ they lifted into the Metropolis twilight sky towards Kansas. After a brief flight, Clark descended from the late afternoon sky and gently landed on the dirt road leading up to the Kent farm.

His partner looked around taking in what few sights she could in the waning light. “This is certainly different from the last time we came out here. Instead of flying via airplanes and waiting for trains to pass, we cut out several hours of travel! Dating Clark Kent has its perks, and is going to save us a ton on airfare. Guess my frequent flyer miles won’t pile up as fast as they used to!”

“Maybe not, but that means more time for enjoying things like de-stressing after the day we’ve had! Come on, they are waiting for us.” He gestured towards the quaint farmhouse perched on the hill, the lights of Martha’s kitchen - and the tantalizing smells within beckoning them.

***

A long happy time later, with the dinner dishes cleared and washed, Martha announced the cake still needed to cool for a while, before frosting it. The Kent men folk went out to the barn, once again to work on Jonathan’s obstinate, ancient tractor. Lois and Martha sat down in the living room, serene in each other’s company. The older woman took out her knitting and began to talk, “This is so nice, after nearly thirty years to be able to speak honestly with another woman about my son. You have no idea how happy he has been since arriving in Metropolis and working for the Daily Planet. Almost from the very first day and ever since, ‘Lois Lane’ was the name we heard the most. Having you share his secret has been like finally welcoming you to the family... officially.”

“So you weren’t concerned with my knowing about…” Lois made a swooping motion with her arm.

“Oh well, at first Jonathan and I were a bit surprised, but Clark needed someone special in his life to share such a secret… to have a family of his own.” Martha put her knitting down and signed deeply, “Jonathan and I won’t be here forever. That’s another reason why we are so pleased he has such a special friendship with you.”

Lois blushed. “The relationship I share with Clark is the most precious thing in our lives, but it’s not quite ready to take that final step.” Feeling a shade self-conscious, her voice trailed off.

“Oh no, honey, I didn’t mean to embarrass you! Relationships take time. Gosh, when Jonathan asked me to marry him I had to decide on being a farmer’s wife or continue working as an administrative assistant for one of the biggest engineering firms in Kansas City.”

Fascinated, Lois leaned forward very curious to hear about Martha’s early life. “I had no idea you worked in a city.”

“Oh, I was employed by Blaise and McCleary for three years. At the time in my life, I thought that was the place I was supposed to be. I turned Jonathan down flat three times before saying yes.”

“No way! What did he do?”

“Dived right into his work, he plowed up two fields of snow!”

Laughter rocked the comfortable living room, as the two women continued talking about the men in their lives. Father and son. Husband and lover. Each cherished in their own way.

After several minutes, of listening to funny stories about Martha’s ‘business’ life, Lois sat back wiping happy tears from her eyes. “Seriously, Martha, what made you leave the company? From the sounds of it, you were on the fast track.”

“In my day we called it advancement,” her eyes gleamed mischievously, but then her features turned thoughtful. “Sadly, Blaise and McCleary had what is now referred to as the ‘glass ceiling’. I was passed over for promotion a number of times in favor of a man. No matter how hard I worked, some freshly pressed college boy with a crew cut took a position I was perfectly qualified for.”

Lois nodded, “it still exists. Sometimes, I think it’s harder than ever for a woman to break into a male-dominated field. But, that doesn’t stop us from trying! So, what finally made you accept Jonathan’s proposal?”

Martha grew silent, ran her fingers over the sweater she was knitting, drawing strength from its bright colors and smooth texture. Then she spoke in tones shadowed with regret and pain. “I…I wanted children. The only man I could imagine having them with was Jonathan. No job could hold a candle to that. Sadly, we know how that turned out.”

Lois got up from her chair and sat next to Martha, giving her a fierce hug. “Maybe together you couldn’t have children, but look at how great Clark turned out! That’s better than working for some engineering company!” In Lois’ mind she thought. <Did I actually say that? Spending even this short time with the Kent family has changed my attitude towards marriage and children! Imagine *me* telling anyone to be a wife rather than actively pursue a career?>

***

As Lois and Martha chatted, the men folk of the Kent family worked in the hushed atmosphere of the old barn. The comfortingly familiar smell of hay filled the night air as they worked diligently on the tractor. Clark’s mind went back to his youth, in the days when he was just discovering his powers and how their alienness frightened him. How they set him apart from all of his friends except Pete Ross. In this barn, he talked with his father, revealing his fears and dreams. It only seemed right that he continue to do so again. Now, voicing the concerns and plans of a mature man. After a time, Jonathan spoke, his calm gentle voice cutting through his son’s thoughts.

“Son, it’s good to see how happy the two of you are together. Hand me the channel locks please.”

“Sure, here you go,” Clark said as he passed over the large tool. “Being together… it feels right, Dad. She’s the only woman I can imagine sharing my life with.”

His father smiled indulgently, “Good, for a while there, Mayson Drake’s name kept coming up. She was a pleasant enough woman, but not the right personality. Funny, she kinda reminded me of Lana – too pushy. So, when are you going to ask Lois for her hand in marriage?”

Clark answered this question with a smile as well, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small blue and gold box. He opened it slowly to reveal a gleaming diamond solitaire ring. “We aren’t there yet, but I just want to be prepared.”

Jonathan shook his head laughing, the gentle blue eyes twinkled behind the wire rim glasses. “Between me and the Boy Scouts you learned well! Now son, speaking of preparation and the future, the apartment lease is going to be up pretty soon. If memory serves me correctly Lois’ place isn’t much bigger. Where are you going to live? After all, women like their closet space.”

“It’s odd to hear you say that. I need to talk with my landlady about a few things and then if matters pan out we can discuss it further.”

“Fair enough.” Jonathan’s face turned serious then said, “Son, Lois is a good woman and no matter what happens, we will always consider her a member of our family.”

“Thanks, Dad. Without your advice I don’t know where I would be by now.”

The elder Kent walked over to his workbench, grabbed a towel, and rubbed the oil and grease from his calloused hands, “Right where you should be - at Lois’ side.”

“Jonathan, Clark, come in for cake and coffee,” Martha called from the porch. The two men smiled at each other and walked to the house.

All too soon, dessert was over, and the couple prepared to depart.

“Here take some of this cake. It will be a nice snack for later,” Martha insisted.

“Mom, I still have cookies from the last trip!” Clark protested mildly.

“Oh don’t worry Martha, I’ll take it. This cake is too good to leave here! I need a couple of extra sessions at the gym anyway.” Lois gingerly took the bundle into her arms.

Effervescent but quick hugs were exchanged. Clark spun into the suit, gathered Lois up, and then flew off into the night. His parents watched from the porch until the familiar sonic boom reached them and their children were gone from sight.

***

Lois felt a curious sense of warmth and peace while she and Clark flew back to Metropolis. On the distant horizon, she could see the smudge of the great city’s lights beckoning them. They were heading to their separate homes, but here at this moment she felt ‘home’ in his arms. <Where would I be tonight without this man? Sitting alone in my empty apartment; eating a melting dish of low-priced, low-cal chocolate ice cream? On the other hand, I could be wasting an evening getting cheap, vicarious thrills watching my favorite soap opera, ‘The Ivory Tower’? Since Clark has welcomed me into his life, my own life has become enriched. Lois Lane is so much more than just a byline – she is a person – who has a fantastic new family!>

Suddenly her chest grew tight with emotions, chiefly being gratitude, and something akin to joy. The realization hit her with the force of clean, clear waterfall: she had found true love and acceptance at last. For that, she would forever be grateful to Clark. She tucked her head against his chest sighing softly.

The familiar rumble of Clark’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Lois, we are almost at your apartment.”

“Oh, let’s spend some time at your place; I’m not ready to go home yet,” she begged.

“Okay, but remember, we have to be at the Planet bright and early,” his deep voice caressed her ears.

“Yes sir,” she giggled, cuddling her face into his neck.

***

A scant ten minutes later, shoes off and seated comfortably on Clark’s couch, they enjoyed warm cups of Oolong tea. The coffee table held two plates; atop each were generous wedges of Martha’s cake. Sitting on the floor by the kitchen table sat Pepper, silently observing *his humans*.

“Mmm, eating at this hour cannot be good for my waistline! Oh well, Tae Kwon Do class is tomorrow night. But Clark, in the future, stop me from having too much rich food. Maybe your Kryptonian body can eat whatever it wants, but my earthbound metabolism can’t handle it!”

“Hmm dangerous job that, you get pretty cranky when the Double Fudge Crunch Bar supply gets low,” his eyes twinkled with humor.

“Since hanging around with a certain guy, I don’t need chocolate quite so much as I used to,” she leaned towards him.

“Do I know this guy? Who is strong enough to make the Daily Planet’s best investigative reporter give up her beloved candy stash?” Clark inched closer to meet her.

“Only the strongest man on Earth,” she whispered back. Then in a typical sneaky Lois move, she planted a kiss – on his nose.

“Hey, no fair! “He growled good-naturedly, “I wasn’t expecting that!” All discussion of cake forgotten, swiftly he gathered her up in his arms and sat her on his lap. “Now…here’s where I get even!”

“Yeah right Farmboy! You, and what army?”

“Minx!” He laughed and gave her an enthusiastic hug. The hug lasted for a moment or two longer than it should and they awkwardly separated. Tentatively Clark held her face in his hands, burrowing his fingers through delicately jasmine scented brown tresses, and kissed her sweet lips, his tongue dexterously searching her own. This time they did not separate, but lay perfectly in each other arms savoring the moment’s serenity.

***

This was what he always wanted, to share his life with her. It was only a matter of being patient and forever would be theirs.

A long time later, Clark whispered. “Lois, many are the times I dreamed of an evening like this. This is so much better than the last time you stayed late here.”

No response was forthcoming from his partner; her head comfortably on his shoulder, Lois had effortlessly drifted off to sleep. Tenderly, he stood, then floated her noiselessly into the bedroom. He removed the cute white socks with pictures of flying typewriters from her delicate feet. That done, he carefully pulled up another one of Martha’s knitted afghans to keep her warm.

Lois’ boyfriend smiled down as the petite figure contentedly nestling herself into the pillows. “Oh yeah, this is so *definitely* much better than the last time!” He whispered to himself.

He floated back to the living room, cleared the dishes, put away the cake and spun into the suit. Time for his nightly patrol. Hopefully, she might still be asleep when he returned. He snapped his fingers and remembered one last task.

“Pepper,” he called softly.

“Meow?” came the reply. His super hearing picked up the light-footed stroll of his feline roommate. The little cat padded over to his friend, paused, and then stood on his hind legs enjoying the petting Clark gave.

“Hey buddy, can you look after Lois for me? Try not to wake her, it’s been a long day.”

“Meow!” Almost as proof he understood the request, Pepper walked into the bedroom where Superman was assured the cat had made himself comfortable next to Lois.

Superman smiled while shaking his head. He was really going to miss Pepper when Mrs. Harper came back. The amicable feline had been wonderful company. Satisfied that his girlfriend and furry charge were safe and secure, he flew into the night.

***

Less than thirty minutes later Lois woke with a start. <Where am I?> Slowly, thinking backwards, her mind began to recollect the evening. She seriously considered grabbing her shoes and going home. But she was too tired and Clark’s warm scent from his bed was so comforting. Moments later she fell asleep, dreaming of her prince as if she were in a fairy tale.

***

A month later, on a bright and sunny afternoon in early September, a Metrocab pulled up at the LexCorp building. Inside, deep in discussion were Lois and Clark, eager to interview Aykira Milan.

“Finally, we can get to do this interview after two delays! At this rate, the Luthors’ elopement to Greece won’t even be newsworthy. Maybe we can find some way to trick them into admitting their involvement with this whole crystal theft plot.” Lois spoke enthusiastically.

Clark shook his head. “Not likely. Scott is not showing signs of regaining consciousness. Without him providing concrete proof, we have nothing to pin on either Lex or his mysterious wife.”

“Yeah, Henderson says Scott’s work computers have been wiped clean, by an expert. But his home computer might yield something yet. I still say we should let Jimmy take a crack at it.” Lois said

“Metropolis PD had some of their best forensic technicians go over those machines. If they couldn’t find anything, no one can. Come on, let’s leave any computer work to the experts.” Clark smiled softly; his partner was still determined to prove Aykira was just as involved as her husband.

“Humph! I’ll take a desperate and determined hacker over a bored techno any day!” Lois snapped.

“Lois, what does Jimmy have to be ‘desperate’ about?”

“Not what… who.” Lois responded archly.

Looking down at the slender woman by his side, Clark knew exactly ‘who’ Jimmy would face if he didn’t provide the results Lois desired. Shaking his head in bemusement, he stepped out of the cab and they made their way towards the building.

***

Several stories above the two reporter’s heads in the luxurious gold and burgundy master bedroom suite he shared with his wife. Lex slowly pushed back warm satin sheets, each motion an effort to muscles still unused to the activity. After a few abortive attempts he managed to place both feet on the floor and painfully stood up.

“Asabi!” He called out with a voice he hoped was strong and asked. “Where are my clothes?”

With his usual quiet efficiency the manservant responded, “Here, sir.” He held the perfectly pressed suit on a padded hanger.

“Just the thing,” Lex muttered as he looked over the garment. “The charcoal pinstripe is always her favorite…”

“Sir, do you think it is wise to go downstairs? Mrs. Luthor said…”

“Now, don’t *you* coddle me, Asabi! We have been associates for a long time. Besides, she needs me to put in an appearance. A show of competency and strength as it were - high time for the board members to realize I am not completely incapacitated.” Lex walked slowly towards the bathroom. “Please lay out the burgundy tie, socks and white Egyptian cotton shirt. Also the…” Lex searched his brain for the correct words.”

“Gold cuff links?” Asabi said.

“Yes! Exactly right!” Lex’s cheerfulness faded quickly when he whispered. “Who am I trying to fool? My brain once devised plans to build a business empire. Now…now, I need your help getting dressed!” He moved his arm in a weak, childish slashing motion. He covered his face and wept softly, awash in the backlash of his self-pity.

Asabi bowed his head and whispered. “If you wish… perhaps I may return later?”

For a moment, Lex was about to shout at the other man, but he stopped and placed his hand on the small bandage at the base of his head. So small, but what lay hidden beneath skin and bone terrified him. Despite his trepidation, he could not allow himself to fall victim to pity and morose anger. He refused to be remembered by the ones he held dear as a sad, pathetic shell of his former self.

He studied Asabi’s face and the realization hit him… the man was more than a servant he was his friend. He deserved better treatment from him than this.

“Come,” Lex smiled at Asabi, “time to prepare for today and whatever challenges it may bring.”

The glint of understanding entered Asabi’s dark eyes, “May I assist you, sir?”

“Yes, Asabi. I think… assistance might be a very good idea.” Lex said wearily.

***

An hour later, with aid from Asabi, Lex completed his daily ablutions and slowly ate a light breakfast of egg whites and plain yogurt. He went into the spacious living room to read a book of Keats poetry. Previously the space had only been used to impress guests and business associates. Since their return from Greece, his wife had artfully included some of her furnishings and photos of her travels and their wedding. He grudgingly admitted she had a talent for creating an atmosphere of warmth and welcome to any room. Since the surgery, he and Aykira had spent many a quiet evening reading poetry to one another.

The evenings had been enjoyable, only the dull throb in his brain dampened that pleasure. He was determined to hide the pain from Aykira as much as possible. Each day was a gift, every moment a precious memory - for her.

He made himself comfortable on the couch, once his mind was settled and relaxed, he would make ‘the rounds’ as it were of the executive offices. Funny, once upon a time this sort of leisure was excruciatingly boring to him, now he craved the peace of his life. He sighed heavily. There was no guarantee it would last, but he desperately wanted it to. He wanted to enjoy every moment with Aykira, and watch her mold LexCorp into something finer than what it once was. He relaxed and began reading.

Nearly forty minutes later Asabi came in carrying a tray, laden with a glass of water and his daily regimen of pills. Lex reluctantly took them, thanked the servant and sent him away. He wanted to stretch his legs for a bit, so he walked to Aykira’s small writing desk by the window. It was at that moment he saw Aykira’s red leather bound planner; the page was opened to today’s date. Lex almost ignored it until he noted who she had an appointment with: the reporting team of Lois Lane and Clark Kent.

Lex’s blood ran cold.

<What could they possibly want?>

***

They arrived at Aykira’s elegant office suite. Her assistant Jane greeted the reporters, beckoned them into the waiting area, and assured them Mrs. Luthor was looking forward to the interview.

“Mrs. Luthor? I don’t understand; she’s not calling herself Aykira Milan anymore?” Lois questioned.

Lois caught a look of sadness shift fleetingly across Jane’s normally animated features. “No. Her legal name is Mrs. Aykira Luthor. Old-fashioned perhaps, but it was her decision. Please, Mrs. Luthor stepped away for just a moment. She is aware you are here.” The assistant made a sweeping gesture towards the office door, encouraging them to enter.

Lois and Clark crossed the threshold into her office and Lois could not help but reflect on all the changes which had taken place in her life since the previous encounter with Lex Luthor’s assistant. The office suite’s gentle cream and blue colors drew them in with a soothing sense of welcome. Aykira’s photos of her world travels were still evident, but rearranged to make room for her wedding photo. Lois’ eyes were utterly captivated by the sweep of the picture; a very happy and serene couple gazing lovingly at one another. The photo depicted them on a rocky cliff top overlooking a whitewashed village, the blues of sea and sky blending into one another.

Lois was too enthralled with the picture to hear the door open, but Clark did. He was momentarily stunned by the incredibly beautiful black woman entering the room. Her pictures, he realized, did not do her justice. She was wearing a black Armani business suit; the jacquard jacket was fitted perfectly to her athletic body, the long skirt was a classic cut with a modest slit on the side. Clark could not help but imagine that the suit looked more like a uniform or perhaps - armor.

She smiled acknowledgement of Clark and bade him to have a seat. Her hazel eyes were filled with warmth, but at the same time extremely watchful. Again, he could not help but feel he was being observed by an armored warrior defending her ground.

“The photograph is breathtaking,” Lois whispered reverently.

“Thank you.” Aykira said as she crossed the room and stood next to Lois. “It was a beautiful day, one I shall treasure for the rest of my life. Lex’s…” she paused, smiled to herself then said, “our villa is not too far from the village of Imerovigli, which sits above the volcanic shores of Red Beach. Most days we would stroll through the village streets hand in hand, not really going anywhere, just happy to be together. There are excellent vineyards on the island, but Lex took me on a private tour of the Volcan Wines Museum and the ancient ruins of Thera along the hillside.”

“He has lived there off and on for several years; hence, the people treat Lex and now me as locals, not tourists. Metropolis’ Lex Luthor does not exist for them. On Santorini, he is a kind, generous landowner who happens to be wealthy - now newly married. Several of the older residents stopped by to convey congratulations and gifts. Our honeymoon was absolutely wonderful. The days went by all too swiftly.” Aykira finished her narrative with the tiniest hint of wistfulness in her tone.

Lois walked over to Clark and sat beside him, smoothing out her long burgundy skirt as she did so. She felt a sense of loss in the other woman’s words and wondered what that meant. With an effort, she shook off the uneasiness, remembering they were reporters with a job to do. From the depths of her briefcase, Lois fished out her notebook and started to conduct the interview.

“Everyone was surprised by the announcement of your marriage. After all, no one in town knew anything about it.” Lois said.

“As you can imagine, Miss Lane, should the media have discovered our relationship, we would have had little peace. Therefore, our courtship was conducted safely away from the public eye.”

“Just how long was the dating ‘conducted’ before Mr. Luthor proposed?” Clark asked curiously.

“Long enough to know marriage was the only right decision for us,” she answered smiling.

***

The interview continued for several minutes, both Lois and Clark asked a number of staid questions for a standard article regarding the marriage of the fabulously wealthy. Aykira provided, for the most part, equally staid and predictable answers. Although the Luthors were far and away a more realistic couple than Tim and Amber Lake, Clark sensed the entire interview was as much a ‘dead-end’ as No Knees Nolan’s tip from the previous month. He was about to suggest they wrap up when Lois spoke.

“Mrs. Luthor, one last question before we go. Our readers want to know what LexCorp’s, or rather LexSolar’s, official stance is on the charges of theft brought against one of its employees - Dr. Robert Scott?”

Clark noted the strange challenging light in Aykira’s hazel eyes. She was anticipating the question. His spine tingled. From here on out he and Lois needed to be extremely cautious. This woman could quite possibly be a greater opponent than her absent husband.

***

After a moment’s consideration, Aykira replied, “Dr. Scott is no longer employed by LexCorp. He stole valuable technology from LexSolar, replaced, I might add, at no small cost to the company. Should any person in our employ be involved in such activities they will be dealt the same hand.”

“Mrs. Luthor, my partner is not referring to microprocessors, but to a new energy source…Harmonic Crystals. They were created through a joint venture between our government and the British company Barontech.” Clark interjected.

“We overheard a conversation between Dr. Scott, Lucky Leon and Cameron Axelrod stating Lex Luthor paid Scott to act as his front man and steal the crystals for LexCorp.” Lois said.

“What possible reason could my husband have for stealing *anything*?” Aykira answered, her tone held the barest hint of menace.

“It’s a well-documented fact Lex Luthor has dreamed and worked towards sending a Space Station bearing his name into orbit. Those crystals would be the perfect power source for that station.” Clark answered somewhat blandly.

“According to the article under the byline Lane and Kent, Cameron Axelrod shot Scott, who is still in ICU and has not regained consciousness, perhaps, he may not even survive, which I am sorry for. I also understand Axelrod is not cooperating with the authorities. Finally, Lucky Leon has recently been returned to his own country to stand trial. So, it’s only by your hearsay, which despite your stellar reputations, is not enough to implicate my husband. I will admit, Lex’s business tactics are sometimes – manipulative. No one creates and maintains such a business empire without making a few enemies.”

“Just because he is wealthy does not place him above everyone else. Dr. Scott – should he regain consciousness - will face charges, trial and jail for stealing the crystals…which he did under Lex’s orders.” Clark pointed out.

“Yes. A corporate crime.” Aykira leaned back in the comfortable chair, placed her chin in slender brown hands, and sat thinking for a moment. “Consider this, Mr. Kent. Dr. Scott committed a federal crime when he conspired with members of Intergang to sell the crystals to a power unfriendly to the United States. A crime neither I nor Lex was aware of while we were on our honeymoon in Greece."

“But Lex was the one who ordered Scott to steal the crystals in the first place,” Lois insisted.

“Oh? Where is your proof, Miss Lane? Your own paper stated Dr. Scott admitted to being the mastermind behind the hijacking, he never implicated Lex. Except in this ‘conversation’ overheard by only Mr. Kent - and yourself. Possibly the file printed out from his computer on the night of your disastrous break-in at LexSolar?”

Lois stood surprised, but quickly recovered and answered. “Wh…what break in?”

“The one where a ‘burglar’ printed out the file entitled ‘Crystal Harvest’ from Dr. Scott’s computer. The break-in where the burglar or ‘corporate spy’ as LNN referred to was shot while making a rather memorable escape. The security guard Todd is an excellent sharpshooter; he *meant* to wing you. Unfortunately, the torrential rainfall of that evening covered your movements. He was smart enough to take a sample of the blood found on the floor at the base of the stairs. Care to wonder if we run a private DNA test whether it will match yours?”

For the first time in years, Clark saw his partner at a complete loss for words.

“Miss Lane… Lois, please let us stop sparring with each other.” Aykira rubbed her fingers over her temples. “You want to write a story accusing my husband of this entire Harmonic Crystals theft. I want him left alone. The government does not want the crystals in the news. The effect on the oil industries alone might create widespread economic panic. What is your purpose in coming here - an interview about the newly married Luthors or a circulation-boosting expose? General Zeitlin and Secretary Cosgrove want this situation buried.”

“How do you know about that?” Clark asked.

Aykira fixed him with a direct stare and was about to speak when, Lois piped up. “Where is Lex anyway? It’s not like him to let someone else face off with one of his adversaries.”

The competent business woman’s cool façade wavered; when Aykira spoke her voice trembled. “Lex’s day to day involvement with the conglomerate he built has come to an end. Six weeks ago, the foremost neurosurgeon in the country, a Dr. Kassaten, operated on Lex. That is why I canceled our initial interview. The doctor says he will make a decent recovery and hopefully he will live to celebrate our second wedding anniversary.”

The two reporters exchanged looks of stunned disbelief. Lex Luthor was a force of nature; it was hard to imagine him as ill, much less dying.

She turned away from Lois and looked at her partner. As if bring to bear another bargaining chip she said, “I promise to keep your dual identity a secret.”

Now it was Clark’s turn to be speechless. However, he quickly found his feet and said, “Mrs. Luthor, this is all conjecture. As you say, where is the proof?

“What dual identity are you talking about?” Lois demanded.

Clark observed closely as a myriad of emotions played across Aykira’s countenance. “Oh, there is so much to talk about.” She sighed deeply in resignation, got up and crossing the floor stuck her head out through the door and said to Jane, “This interview will require additional time. Please clear my calendar for the remainder of the day. When she closed the door she heaved a deep sigh. <This discussion is most definitely not going as I had planned.> “Please, make yourselves comfortable. Mr. Kent… may I call you Clark? Do you drink oolong tea or green chai? Lois, I know you prefer low-fat mocha. Jane can bring the refreshments momentarily. We are going to be here for a while.”

***

Lex walked carefully down the spiral staircase. He took at least ten minutes to calm himself after learning about the appointment with Lane and Kent. It could probably be nothing more than an interview for the masses - hungry for shallow celebrity gossip. If it were any other writing team he would have remained upstairs reading Keats.

But these reporters certainly did not specialize in soft news and most definitely *not* in celebrity gossip.

He knew all too well their involvement in the apprehension of Axelrod, Lucky Leon and the other members of Intergang. He remembered how deeply concerned Aykira’s voice sounded when she read the account to him. His connections in Washington had reported on how the military and Cosgrove had silenced any mention of Harmonic Crystals and their amazing properties. His fist clutched and his knuckles grew white in anger at the thought of that gang of modern day pirates. Not a touch of subtlety or elegance in the lot of them. Once he was gone, how would his wife deal with them? If they wanted to change LexCorp both within and outside, Aykira had to be both wise enough to steer clear of them completely and strong enough to fight them back should Intergang want to move on Metropolis with their legitimate business ventures.

***

Two people sat back in amazement and watched as Aykira removed the ring from its place on the monitor and handed it over to Clark for his unique brand of visual examination. The two bookshelves soundlessly slid back into place, hiding the monitor.

“That’s a remarkable tale, Aykira.” Clark said as he passed Lois the glowing and still warm silver beacon ring. “If it were not for this ring and the conversation with Dr. Bern Klein in your world, it might be hard to believe.”

“Yes it is.” Aykira answered, shaking her head. “If it had not happened to me, I wouldn’t have accepted it as truth myself.”

“How were you able to have this equipment installed without Lex’s knowledge?” Lois asked.

“Oh, that is another long story and we have spent quite enough time on my story already. Suffice to say I only use this connection in case of dire emergency. There is another unit in my former condo.”

Two hours had passed since Lois and Clark entered the office of Aykira Luthor. Their beverages had gone cold while Aykira related her story. Two hours, in which their understanding of their world had in a frightening new way, been turned upside down and inside out. It was a great deal to absorb, learning about two similar worlds existing side by side, not to mention that world had doppelgangers of everyone in their Earth.

Aykira had explained that Perry White had hired her as a science consultant to assist the Daily Planet’s writers of the Weekend section. It was her job to translate the amazing amount of new technologies into something the public could easily understand. She had been called in to assist Lois and Clark on several of their more unusual assignments, such as cracking cases on eco-terrorism or bio-tech corporate piracy.

“Your counterparts in my world are very similar to yourselves. It was actually thrilling to observe Lois interview some rather brilliant men in different fields of science. Often was the time an interviewee attempted to sidestep a question, but ‘Bone Crusher’ Lane refused to let them get the better of her.” Mentioning this, Aykira smiled, remembering a particularly unpleasant condescending computer genius.

“Working for the Daily Planet as a science consultant allowed you to observe ‘Clark and I’ interview people and go after the bad guys? No wonder you knew it was me who broke into LexSolar!”

“To be perfectly honest, I did more than just consult. There were a couple of nerve racking nights when I held the flashlight while you two ransacked files,” Aykira said sheepishly. “For good or for ill, those skills came in very handy a few years later. In any case, I stopped consulting for the Daily Planet after Barontech hired me to work on the Harmonic Crystals research full-time. We all stayed in contact, especially after Bern became Superman’s personal physician.”

“The Bernie we saw on the monitor was vastly different from the gentle and absent-minded scientist who inhabits our world. Except for the balding head, this man was athletic and wore designer clothes. He is even aware of Superman’s real identity! There are so many differences between your world and ours! Did *he* tell you about Clark?” Lois spoke in full babble mode.

Clark stepped in when he noticed ‘Mad Dog’ Lane coming to the forefront. “Uh, Lois, let’s finish listening to what Aykira has to say.”

“Thank you.” She turned to his partner and said, “Lois, Bern brought me in because of an emergency. Superman had taken seriously ill from kryptonite poisoning thanks to Jason Trask and his mysterious agency. Lois, you had sustained injuries while trying to help him escape from those lunatics.”

“S.T.A.R. Labs desperately wanted to help, but with a pack of media hounds crowding the building’s campus everyday it was very hard for them to get anything accomplished without outside assistance.

“Bern needed someone he could trust to help him understand the atomic structure of kryptonite and keep the reporters at bay. I was in Metropolis and being a former employee of S.T.A.R Labs, plus my connections with the Daily Planet, made me the perfect choice to deal with the media.”

“Bern did not tell me your secret identity. It did not take long with the power of deductive reasoning and observing your interaction with each other to reach the proper conclusion: that Superman and Clark Kent were one and the same.”

Clark posed the question. “So you have known all the time about me and never mentioned it to Luthor?”

“Please understand, besides the four of us and Clark’s parents no one in my world has knowledge of the secret. It is an important one to protect. Even though I am married to Lex, he will never hear from me about the unique relationship between Superman and Clark. Just as I trust neither of you will reveal my secret.”

“Excuse me,” Lois interrupted, “but did Dr. Klein in your world find a cure for kryptonite?”

“No. However, he was able to stop the poison, by burning it out of his system in a similar fashion as when Superman was kissed by Diana Stride. Bern is still looking for a cure. Oh, and the Lois of my world made a complete recovery.”

“So now, there are no more secrets. In two years time or less Lex will be gone. He will have paid for whatever sins he has committed in his life.” As Aykira spoke, her voice cracked slightly.

Lois stood up, walked over to the wedding picture. Lex and Aykira looked so happy, but that happiness was fleeting. She faced Aykira. “So you admit to financing Dr. Scott’s plan?”

The black woman leaned back in her chair, again her chin in her hands. “I admit to nothing. But again, the only proof at easy access would also send you to jail or at the very least end your career as an investigative reporter. We are at an impasse, Lois. You do not want to go to prison and our lawyers will tie the case up for so long it will never come to trial.”

“Each of us has something to lose.” Lois said in a quiet deflated tone.

“The Lois Lane of my world was compassionate and understanding. Sadly, circumstances dictate we do not have the same relationship here. But since our government has demanded we keep the existence of the crystals secret what possible good will come from bringing this to light?” Aykira’s voice was tinged with anxiety.

“Mrs. Luthor… Aykira, we cannot ignore what crimes have been committed to gain those crystals. If we cannot publish, at least we can let the government know and they can take it from there. Besides, when – if Dr. Scott awakens, he will testify in court that he did everything under Lex’s orders.” Clark said.

The other woman’s features turned hard and her voice terse, “*If* he ever regains consciousness. Dr. Robert Scott is a traitor to his country. All the proof leading to my husband is gone. Scott would say *anything* to save his own skin.” She sat quite motionless for a time, contemplating her next words, than spoke in measured tones. “What if you tell General Zeitlin and Secretary Cosgrove that Lex stole the crystals in an attempt to heal his brain, but to no avail? If he were to have stolen them for the purpose of healing himself, they could see no evil intent in that.”

Lois shook her head, no, but inside, she could feel her firm resolve wavering.

Aykira gestured to Clark and looked at Lois. “What would you do if a cure for Kryptonite was discovered, but you had to steal it?”

“That’s not what happened,” Lois countered, clutching her hands so fiercely, the nails tore into her flesh.

“But if it did and Clark’s life rested in your hands. What would you do?”

“That’s a cheap shot and you know it!” Lois snarled.

“I… I am sorry. It is all which remains for me.” Aykira stood walked over to the picture window. Her posture, normally so erect looked… broken. For a long time, she gazed out, seeing nothing. “Miss Lane. Mr. Kent. LexCorp has vast international resources, what if we were to utilize those resources to help people rather than cause harm? There are many ills in this world. LexCorp and Superman can work hand in hand to right some of those wrongs. With my help, this company’s Mission Statement can be rewritten for the good.”

“Are you talking about some deal for Lex?”

“No. I am discussing a small means of redemption… for both of us.”

***

Lex made his way down the lushly carpeted corridors of the Executive Suite, greeting assistants, managers and a few of the executives as he went. Some exhibited warm greetings and hopes of a speedy recovery, others suspecting the true extent of his illness expressed soothing, cautious words. All were met by Lex with charm and grace, the business mask after a long absence was now firmly in place.

Pushing the possible threat of Intergang aside, he was determined to take part in Aykira’s discussion with the reporters. He remembered she had mentioned the interview, but his own cares and concerns had dislodged it from his mind. He trusted her with his life, had absolute faith in her abilities, but where those two were concerned they needed to present a united front. He did not want to face a trial. He most certainly did not want go to prison. The time remaining to spend with his wife was too damnably short.

There must be some way to make amends without facing those rather unpleasant possibilities…

Three minutes later, Lex opened the door to Aykira’s office suite and noticed Jane diligently filing some papers. She looked up at the sound of the door opening.

“Mr. Luthor! Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“Good morning, Jane. There shall be time enough for that later. Please tell me, is Aykira busy with the reporters from the Planet?”

“Yes sir.” Jane tried to disguise the worry in her voice, but she knew it was impossible with this man. “They have been talking for a long time.”

“I see…. ”

***

Clark observed the two strong-willed women glaring at each other in emotional combat, each one in her own way fighting for the man she loved. Aykira looked more and more like some ancient warrior woman of myth, steadily holding her ground. As long as he had known her, Lois Lane had never lost a battle, but there was always a first time…

Finally, Lois spoke; her voice had a harsh, bitter edge to it. “Nice try, Aykira, I’ll take my chances with the police. Lex has to pay for what he’s done.”

The office was silent as Aykira walked over to one of the thick comfortable chairs and sat down in utter defeat. Clark watched helplessly. Part of him wanted to make some gesture of comfort to this remarkable woman. She, like himself, had crossed unimaginable distances to live on this Earth. Despite blending in with its people, even marrying one of its inhabitants, she still walked as a stranger in the midst of humanity. Now all she wanted to do was right whatever wrongs both she and Lex and committed. Yet at the same time, how could he allow Luthor to avoid facing charges for his crimes? In the balance, Lois might end up in prison as well as destroy her career.

***

Abruptly the tension was broken when the door was softly opened, Aykira gasped. “Lex… I was not expecting you until later. How are you feeling?” All color drained from her face as she raced over to reach him. The third richest man in the world stood in the threshold of his wife’s office looking pale, yet steady. His hair, once thick, curly and dark brown, was completely gone. The small bandage from the recent surgery was still attached to the base of his head. Jane stood behind him; looking first at Lex then Aykira. Taking his wife’s hand he said, “I feel better. Please my love, sit down.” He sighed gently, “We…we might as well finish this.”

Aykira looked at her assistant and said, trying to hide the tension in her voice, “Thank you, we will be fine.” Jane, sensing this was more than just a routine interview, quickly closed the door.

It took only a few minutes to inform Lex of all that had transpired in her office.

He leaned against the writing table, trying hard to convey a pose of studied elegance and spoke, “Lois, it would be a pity for you to languish in prison, especially over a dead man.” The billionaire strived to maintain his former social graces, but such poise was gone forever. The beautifully cut suit hung poorly on his frame and his energy seemed to leave him. Reluctantly he allowed Aykira to help him into a chair. Once Lex managed a degree of comfort, he got straight to the point.

“My wife and I, although only wed a short time, have faced several challenges. But as she has informed you, our time is fleeting. The four of us need to settle revealing everything about those crystals today.” Lex paused for a breath and with his hand waved to encompass them. “We each in this room have our secrets,” he gazed at Clark with intense scrutiny. “Even the gallant Mr. Kent has something to hide, I’m sure.” Both reporters stared hard at Aykira, panic in their eyes. With the tiniest shake of the head, she indicated Lex did not know Clark’s secret.

“There must be a way we can all come to an equitable solution that will ease your consciences and permit us to continue our lives without any chaotic and very public trials or prison sentences.” Lex, turning to Aykira said, “My dear, I realize this is your meeting, but may I continue?”

“But of course,” she responded.

Clark noticed immediately after Lex had sat down, Aykira’s body language had changed, the shoulders were once again in perfect balance, her head held erect -the warrior’s stance born anew. But most of all, he could not help but see the comfort and strength they drew from one another. It was the soothing, emotional balm of a couple very much in sync with each other’s minds, deeply in love and ready to fight for that love.

“Perhaps the authorities will be further placated if I return the two remaining crystals. My excuse will be the truth; I took them in order to cure my tumor. Even a military hardliner such as General Zeitlin will believe that.”

Clark’s partner spoke up gently, “They might believe you. But what about the crystals Aykira sent to her world? A dozen missing crystals cannot be ignored.”

Lex gave a halfhearted shrug. “I can only account for the two, nothing more. Perhaps we can say they were stolen at Pier 17 by someone from Intergang? Eventually the hunt will cease. LexCorp is a powerful international conglomerate. The economic backlash resulting from tearing it apart might give them pause. Hopefully the authorities are not so desperate to punish me that they would allow innocent people to end up on the street.”

“No, General Zeitlin will never believe that. As Aykira mentioned earlier, creating LexCorp has provided a fair number of enemies for the company. They will badger first you, than Aykira for the truth, which you cannot reveal. Finally, a Senate committee will be convened to carve up, then parcel out LexCorp like penny candy.” Lois said.

“I will pay whatever fines and sanctions are necessary to leave my family and company in peace. Short of going to prison,” Lex’s dark eyes flashed with a dangerous light. His body may be weakened, but his mind and resolve were as sharply honed as ever.

Aykira had been sitting quietly on the arm of the chair, holding Lex’s hand all this time than spoke up. “Why not give them back? Any item can make one round trip through the dimensional device. The crystals can be returned.”

“Won’t that cause problems on the other side for Bern and Alexander?” Clark asked

“No. Do not underestimate the abilities and determination of my friends. We dismantled Bern’s device and brought it from Leeds, England to Metropolis without being detected. Replicating the crystals and sending them here should be quite simple.”

Lois spoke up looking at Lex, “So you will admit to stealing the crystals?”

The Luthors exchanged glances, countless thoughts raced across their faces. Lois and Clark looked on, holding their breath, waiting eagerly for the answer.

“Yes. In exchange for complete immunity, LexCorp must remain under my wife’s control… otherwise life for all of us will become incredibly… complicated.”

Lex felt Aykira’s body stiffen in alarm. She was afraid for her husband. He took her hand and kissed it.

“You honor me with your trust, husband.”

“Now you see why I *had* to marry her?” The smile on his face was filled with joy and pride.

Aykira winked at him, and then grew somber as she walked over to her desk, touched the intercom and said, “Jane. I would like you to contact the Department of Defense. Use Lex’s name, get a direct line to General Virgil Zeitlin please.”

***

Later that evening in Clark’s apartment they discussed the day’s events while drying the dinner dishes. “Clark, that was *the* strangest and most intimidating interview I have ever done!”

Her partner’s eyes twinkled. “One great thing came out of it. Another nickname for you… ‘Bone Crusher’ Lane!”

“Urgh!” I’m going to forget I heard that!”

Clark nodded sadly. “This is galling our professional pride to keep this part of the Shackleton story under wraps. Think of the great addition it will make to the Lane and Kent memoirs?”

“More romance and danger, Flyboy?” she said with an arched eyebrow.

“Romance… always. Danger, maybe not so much so. Remember what I said earlier.”

“’All things must be recorded, but not necessarily reported.’ I may not like it, but there is a certain truth to that particular saying.” Lois sighed as she put away the last dish and yawned.

“Sounds to me like I should take you home. It’s been a very long day.”

“Yeah, but promise me, the next time we have another interview like that I want to go to Paris for dinner.”

“Deal, Miss Lane.” He gave her that brilliant smile then spun into the Suit. Moments later the apartment was empty.

***

It was close to quitting time at the Daily Planet when Jenni Reid emerged from the elevator and walked down the ramp with brisk strides. Her fashionably cut light brown hair swinging, she approached Lois and Diane and spoke, her soft Scottish accent giving a hint of the ancient Highlands. “Hullo! I understand there’s a party happening tonight! Where is the bride?”

“Jenni!” Cat shouted from her desk. “You made it!”

The two women raced across the bullpen and meet in front of Jimmy’s desk giving each other fierce hugs. The Daily Planet’s newest full time staff photographer looked from one beauty to another. “Smooth,” he said in appreciation. The women made a striking duo - a study in contrasts. The tall auburn haired beauty wore a tiger patterned dress that clashed with her friend’s classically cut light blue suit. The petite reporter from across the pond released Cat and started laughing. “When I received the e-mailed from Janet Owens telling me there was going to be a ‘Girl’s Night Out’ before your nuptials I hopped on the first flight out! My editor, Labbie Rathbone, graciously gave me holiday.”

“What are you going to do for two weeks before the wedding?” Cat asked.

“No worries, I have a couple of British Embassy stories that need looking into. Could Perry give me a desk to work from? Labbie is a great gal, but she’s not sending me here on a *complete* holiday! Now, where is the rest of the group?”

“Relax Jenni, everyone will be here in time,” those words were spoken by Corrina Hawk, one of the copy editors. She had emerged from her cubicle near Perry’s office and given her old comrade a quick, hug. “Janet always throws the best outside-of-the-office parties! I’m looking forward to spending time with everyone; it is so seldom all of us are in the same country much less the same building!”

“The Daily Planet has several international editions, Ms. Hawk, as you are perfectly well aware! So, our reporters and contributors are scattered around the globe. As Ms. Reid’s appearance attests to! My dear, it is good to see you again!” Terry Leatherwood, the urbane editor of the Daily Planet’s Weekend section, interjected.

“Great shades of Elvis, what is going on out here…?” Perry crossed the threshold of his office, looked at the newcomer to the bullpen, smiled hugely, and ambled over. “I cannot believe Labbie let you out of her London Times newsroom into ours! How long are you here for, darlin’?”

Jenni beamed at her former boss then gave him a fond embrace. “Perry! I see the bullpen is running as smoothly as ever.”

“Our esteemed chief would have it no other way,” Terry responded dryly. “But then he has the talents of the best reporters of the Fourth Estate to call upon.”

“You bet your sweet Elvis I do!” Perry laughed.

More conversation swirled around the little group as long time staffers came over to greet the visitor.

Stacy Hunter, a young intern who wore thick lensed glasses, came out of the darkroom bearing Jimmy’s latest photos; she slipped furtively over to Lois and inquired earnestly. “Excuse me, Miss Lane, what’s all the noise about? Who is Jenni Reid?”

Clark also came over and sat in Lois’s guest chair. “Thanks, Stacy, I was about to ask the same question.”

“Oh, that’s right, so many people were not here when Jenni, Janet and to a much lesser extent Cat practically ran the bullpen.” Lois said with a smile. “I was only an intern then, but Jenni spent time with me, guiding me through all the interesting things regarding newspaper writing that are not taught in journalism school.”

“My goodness,” Stacy breathed, “they must have been something!”

“They were and still are,” Diane answered, genuine respect in her voice.

“Yeah,” Lois agreed. <I guess I shouldn’t mention Jenni was the one who provided my first lesson in breaking and entering! Clark, invulnerable or not, would have a stroke!> It took some effort, to keep from laughing.

Another woman walked down the red staircase and entered the bullpen, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, a pencil stuck behind her ear. The Daily Planet’s Science Editor carried herself with a serious demeanor, however, Janet Owens’ friendly voice cut through the hubbub of the crowd and welcomed her old friend. “Ha! I knew a little thing like the Atlantic Ocean couldn’t keep you away from this party!” The women embraced and started talking to one another a mile a minute.

“One moment!” Jenni interrupted the gabfest. “The ring! I want to see the ring!”

“See it and weep,” Cat purred as she held out her left hand. “George did me proud.”

“I say!” Jenni agreed and whistled appreciatively.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! This is a newspaper, not gossip central! You ladies have another ten minutes before quittin’ time. I expect *all* of you to be back here bright and early tomorrow morning! No excuses. Oh and one other thing, there had better not be any phone calls from Inspector Henderson to my house! Daily Planet reporters *write* the stories, they do not become them! Janet, you’re in charge.”

Janet smiled slowly, her generous mouth revealed two rows of bright teeth. “Of course Perry, whatever you say. After all… you can yodel.” Janet said sweetly.

At the sound of her voice, the Daily Planet’s Senior Editor realized too late he had made a mistake. “Oh boy, that’s like putting the fox in charge of the hen house! I don’t want to know anything!” So saying, Perry returned to his office, unbeknownst to the staffers in question, a huge grin splayed on his face.

“Poor Perry, he’s still mad at us about Anna’s Girl’s Night Out.” Diane sighed.

Corrina looked up from a sheet of copy. “Pity she can’t make it tonight, still it’s hard to hop on a plane from Athens in the middle of covering a story. Cat, she is going to make it to the wedding… right?”

“That’s what her response stated,” Cat answered. “I’m grateful she told me about Lex and Aykira Luthor’s wedding. That scoop was a pinnacle of my time here!”

“Yes, but Lane and Kent scooped you on the interview of the happily married couple.” Terry interjected.

Cat glanced over at Lois and Clark shrugged and said, “The ride had to come to an end someday!” Then she turned back to Terry, winked and said to her friends. “Ladies, I have to finish up a rather drab story about another serious ‘blockbuster film’ for autumn. The director is trying to get it in for Oscar sweeps. Soon as that’s done, I’ll join you.” Waving her left hand so all could see her sparkling engagement ring, Cat walked back to her desk.

The older man acknowledged Cat’s exit and gave her departing back a courtly bow. He then moved on to his next person of interest. “Speaking of transportation and all things modern and shiny, Diane, where is your story on Suicide Slum? I need that before putting the Weekend section to bed.”

“It’s done! Thanks to Jimmy and Jack for their research, the last paragraph was typed up fifteen minutes ago. Check your inbox.”

“Excellent. Have a superb time at the party.” He headed out of the bullpen and returned to his office.

Another female voice joined the crowd, Erin Klinger, Head of the Daily Planet’s design department, sang out. “I’m looking forward to this get together. Janet, we are still meeting at the Pen and Pencil ‘round 6:00?”

“That is the plan. The owners, Chuck and Sarah, set aside one of the smaller rooms. This is going to be a combination of party and shower. Some of the ladies will be on assignment when the real shower takes place, so this will give them a chance to be a part of the festivities.” Janet consulted a spreadsheet done on pink paper and looked at Erin. “That ought to make the head count about twenty-five - impressive.”

“Good. After the week I have had this will be a welcome diversion!” Erin said with a snicker.

“Erin, I thought you were pleased with the sales results of your latest book? It’s doing quite well on my side of the pond.” Jenni said, happy for the success her friend was enjoying.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love being an author, but my first love is still reporting. However, my editor wants another book.” Janet, Jenni and Erin walked slowly towards the conference room as Erin talked of book sequels and design layout deadlines.

At Lois’ desk Stacy, Diane and Clark watched the interaction between these veteran female journalists and were completely entertained. Clark spoke first, “From the sounds of it, this is going to be some party!”

“It should be!” Diane piped up. “We have been planning it for weeks. I better check my e-mail before we leave, excuse me.” Without another word, Diane hurried back to her desk. Being caught off guard by Mr. Leatherwood was unnerving. He was an excellent and flexible boss to work for, but a ‘mean ol’ man’ when it came to wielding his editorial red pencil.

***

Stacy was about to return to her area that she shared with three other interns. It was thrilling to be in the presence of people she had long admired. If only her parents and siblings could see her now! She smiled to herself; the experience of working here was almost as good as winning the young writers conference last year… almost. Stacy was lost in thought when Lois’ voice cut through.

***

“When did the internship start here?”

“Uh, last week, Mr. Olsen… Jimmy took me on a tour of the building. He’s very nice.”

“Jimmy and Jack are great guys if you need any help, feel free to ask them. Where are you from?”

“Wyoming. I start my first year at Metro U in the fall. My English Literature teacher is an old friend of Mr. White’s… he helped me get this internship.” Stacy was too nervous to say anything else.

Lois and Clark truly looked at the young woman for the first time. She was alone and without family for possibly the first time in her life. That was exciting, but also intimidating. Lois, a Metropolis native, was always in the city she loved, yet she was aware it could be a frightening place to young newcomers. Clark, a seasoned world traveler understood only too well what it meant to be the ‘new kid in town’. Although they might not spare this youngster too much attention, as to bring on the taint of favoritism, a little assistance could not impair Stacy’s progress. After all, they might be looking at a future Kerth nominee!

Lois could scarcely believe she was saying these words until they were out of her mouth. “Listen, if any staff member gives you a hard time, let me know. Also, come with me to the party, it’s a great chance to spend time with some of the Daily Planet’s finest. Past. Present. Future.”

“Thank you, Miss Lane!” Stacy beamed, happily, as she started back to the Darkroom.

“It’s Lois,” she called after the intern. “Now get those pictures to Jimmy, he’s probably ready to recruit a search party for them!”

***

Clark smiled, this was definitely something new for the woman he loved! Imagine, ‘Bone Crusher’ Lane being a mentor to a young woman during her first year of living and working in Metropolis. Abruptly the shrill sound of his phone interrupted any further thoughts. He dashed over to his desk and picked up. “Hello, Clark Kent, Daily Planet.”

<<Oh good, I caught you! Mr. Kent, it’s Janice Harper. I just arrived in town. If this is a bad time? Perhaps we can talk later?>>

“No, this is fine. What can I do for you?” Clark’s heart gave a tiny lurch. If his landlady had returned, Pepper would be moving back in with her. He was going to miss the little guy.

<<Well to be quite blunt, Mr. Kent, my mother’s health has not improved and a permanent move to St. Louis is imminent. Unfortunately, pets are not allowed in my new condo, so I can take Pepper off your hands tonight and bring him to relatives there. But don’t worry, as a token of my appreciation, your rent will remain the same for the next two years. Should you decided to remain in that apartment.>>

“Um, that’s great! But, can we discuss this at my apartment later, Mrs. Harper? Pepper and I have become good friends. If there are no objections, may I keep him permanently? Also, regarding my lease, I was thinking of getting a bigger place… ”

The conversation continued for a few minutes more. He observed Lois, Diane, Cat and a quietly excited Stacy entering the elevator. Just before the doors closed, he heard Lois whisper so only he could hear. “Good-night, Flyboy.”

***

Bright and early the next morning Clark exited the elevator, walked down the ramp while balancing a carton containing a large low-fat mocha, his usual high caloric concoction and two blueberry muffins from the Java Perk. He had a sneaking suspicion his partner was going to need caffeine and sugar this morning. Since there were no urgent pleas last night for help from Lois or any emergency phone calls from Bill Henderson, he was guessing Cat’s party was a rousing, albeit safe, success. Nevertheless with that group, it was a certainty that what began at the Pen and Pencil ended up who knows where.

He looked over to Perry’s office and noticed that the older man was hard at work already. <How does he do it? Arriving so early at the Daily Planet every morning? I thought newspaper ink was in Lois’ veins, Perry White has us both beat!> Shaking his head in admiration, Clark turned on his computer and began consulting his back files for story ideas.

Half an hour later, the daytime staff slowly began to arrive. Clark listened for her delicate heartbeat, but as of yet, neither Lois nor any of the other female staffers had shown up.

<Easy Clark, maybe she slept late, still, Perry isn’t going to be very happy... >

Just then, a familiar heartbeat reached his ears as the elevator doors snapped open and out stepped Diane, Cat and Lois. All three women dragged themselves to the ramp, determined to get to their desks before Perry noticed how close they were to being late.

Lois, seeing the coffee and muffin on her desk, expressed profound relief. “Bless you Clark,” she whispered.

Clark walked over to Lois’ guest chair and made himself comfortable. It was impossible not to indulge in a bit of good-natured teasing. “So, how are the revelers this fine morning?”

“Don’t go there Kent,” muttered an uncharacteristically taciturn Diane.

“I’m holding up,” Lois answered around a mouth full of still warm blueberry muffin.

Cat, trying to look as if she had a full night’s sleep, smiled triumphantly, “We had a blast! First, the party/shower at the Pen and Pencil then a smaller group of us went on a scavenger hunt!”

“Shhh!” Diane hissed, as she noticed Perry emerging from his office. “Not so loud, he’ll hear you.”

“What’s wrong with a scavenger hunt?” Clark asked innocently.

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with that particular activity, son.” Perry said as he waded into the conversation. “When Anna B got married, seven years ago, these ladies had a scavenger hunt and they all ended up in jail – for disturbing the peace. The Star - that fish wrapping rag - covered the whole fiasco! The Daily Planet was the laughingstock of Metropolis.”

“Perry, be fair, we did *not* end up in jail, just in a holding cell. No charges, fingerprinting or mug shots.” Cat smiled mischievously. “Besides, Jenni cracked a smuggling ring. Who knew stealing an eight ball could yield a Kerth nomination for her?”

“Yeah, but during a pool game between *two* underworld kingpins? Who were trying to decide how to carve up their criminal territory? I still don’t understand what possessed the six of you to go in there. Great shades of Elvis! Back then, Lois was just a kid!”

“It’s quite simple, we smelled a story, and the scavenger hunt was the perfect cover-up.” Jenni’s light Scottish accent floated down to them from the top of the ramp. Flanked by Janet and Corrina, the women made a formidable trio.

“Come on, chief, we have been over this before,” Corrina jumped in with her no-nonsense manner. “Rumor was on the street about the pool tournament between Dugan and Meyers. We played the part of a bunch of bored, slightly ditsy secretaries looking for a little excitement. Is it our fault they bought the story and let us into the pool hall to watch?”

“Absolutely, we warned ‘em about our little scavenger hunt,” Cat put in.

“While Cat distracted them, I stole the eight ball,” Janet continued.

“Correct, and when Dugan and Meyers discovered the theft, they started accusing each other. It did get rather exciting… quite the night.” Jenni’s blue eyes flashed, recalling the incident.

“Yeah, then a whale of a fight broke out. It *took* four squad cars, including the then Lieutenant Henderson to break up the melee.” Perry concluded the narrative. His face grew flush with the memory.

“Wow, that must have been some smooth party!” Jimmy exclaimed.

“Yes, but you neglected to mentioned several of the gangsters talked to each other about their plans to take over Metropolis *before* the fight broke out. I overheard the conversations and did a great deal of follow-up work with my sources to learn more.” Jenni commented. “That scavenger hunt yielded quite the headline. Janet and Corrina both wrote sidebars. I always said it was a shame you went into copy writing rather than reporting. Corrina.”

“It is what I do,” her friend said nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders.

“Trust us, Perry,” Janet assured him as she stuck a freshly-sharpened pencil behind her ear and headed for the red metal staircase. “Nothing happened on this particular scavenger hunt. We only managed to bag a male model’s sneakers…no story there.” She sighed, obviously disappointed. “Jenni, you can use my office while I’m having a meeting. See everyone later.” With those parting words, she briskly ran upstairs. Jenni smiled and winked at Lois, than she and Corrina walked over to the coffee station.

It took a moment for Perry to compose himself than he looked around at the bullpen staff, who stood mesmerized listening to the story and watching their chief get his leg pulled.  Perry realized it to and began bellowing orders.  It took all of Clark’s self-control to keep from falling out of his chair from holding in the laughter.

***

Eventually the ebb and flow of the bullpen returned to normal. Lois listened to the background clatter of computer keyboards, news monitors and chatter as her co-workers went about their working day. She reflected on the past six months. A great deal had happened to herself personally and to the world at large. She and Clark were together not just professionally, but privately. Their stories were continuing to help to clean up corruption in the corporate world as well as Metropolis government. Being a couple, each leaned on qualities the other lacked, which made for a better whole.

It was a crushing point of dissatisfaction Lex Luthor would never be brought to trial for his masterminding of the crystals theft. However, the conglomerate which bore his name was no longer under his control. All dreams of Space Station Lex were forever cast aside. True to their word, Aykira and Lex had met with General Zeitlin and the mysterious John Cosgrove and returned all fourteen of the missing crystals. The multinational corporation quietly paid heavy fines and had to cut costs on some of its most lucrative government contracts.

The final blow: for the next ten years the Superman Foundation would privately supervise all the company’s international activities. At that last part, Lex had balked. However, regulation by the foundation was preferable to a full-out media blitz regarding LexCorp’s more nefarious activities and all the problems resulting from it.

Aykira had destroyed the blood sample linking Lois to the break-in. She had done so in front of Lois and Clark that day in her office. The female reporter experienced poignant feelings that they had not met under better circumstances. To participate in a true close friendship between them in this world, as well as in Aykira’s own, would have been nice. For despite the fact that Mrs. Luthor was happily married, Lois sensed she was still a little lonely - isolated. For all her machinations, she was still a tragic figure. Being a new wife and a caregiver to her husband was a heavy load. Sincere help and compassion from loving friends was a luxury the billionaire’s wife did not have.

Lois thought about last night and the fun the Planet’s female employees had. Did Aykira have such friends? Even acquaintances?

It also nagged at her regarding Aykira’s comment on finding a cure for kryptonite poisoning. After all, she did give Axelrod’s vial to Bernie Klein in the hopes of finding a cure. Wouldn’t Lois go to *any* lengths to save Clark? Possibly, even break the law. Lois sighed, painfully aware of the answer.

Perhaps she might give Aykira a phone call after work.

***

Two days after the big party, Cat came into the newsroom to tie up a few stories before officially turning her column over to the new gossip columnist, Peggy Becker.

After having conversations with several of the bullpen staff, she sauntered over to Lois’ desk wearing, for Cat, a simple purple and gray knit dress.

Looking up, Lois could not help but notice the normally flamboyantly dressed woman wearing such a sedate outfit. “What are you in mourning? Since when does Cat Grant wear grey?” Lois asked.

Cat shrugged her shoulders and said, “Can’t a girl try something different? I wanted to ask, are you free for lunch?”

Lois glanced over to Clark’s desk and noticed it was empty. Her partner was in the middle of either a rescue or hunting down a source. Apparently, she was at loose ends this afternoon. “Sure why not?”

Since the night of Cat’s engagement, the two women had continued to trade sarcastic comments, but there was no longer heated animosity between them. No one would ever confuse them as being the best of friends, but there was now a mutual grudging respect between them.

“Great! I’ll come and get you around 11:45.” Cat said.

<Now I wonder what *that’s* about?> Lois thought.

***

The morning went by swiftly and true to her word, Cat arrived promptly at Lois’ desk and the two women headed up the ramp for the elevator.

“I’m starving. Where to?” Lois asked.

“Originally, I wanted to go to that Italian deli with the grilled veggie sandwiches and salads, but there’s a rumor Jason might sell the Java Perk.” Cat said gloomily.

“What!” Lois squeaked, threatening to launch into full-blown babble. “He can’t sell! They make the best low fat muffins in New Troy! Come on, let’s get out of here!”

“Yeah, I want another ‘Whispering Eye’ muffin before he sells out of them!” Cat said. With a fervor usually devoted to launching a full out investigation, the reporters departed for their lunch and some desperately needed answers.

A few minutes later found Cat and Lois confronting Jason, the owner of the Java Perk, in the midst of filling orders for a famished lunch crowd.

“Tell me it’s not true,” pleaded Lois as she shouted over the noise of clattering dishes, waitresses shouting orders and conversations from patrons. “The Java Perk is not closing down?”

“Relax. I’m going on vacation - first one in three years! My cousin Rico will be running the place for a month. His baking is as good as mine!”

Lois turned to Cat, cocked an eyebrow and snapped. “*This* is your idea of reporting?”

Jason, sensing the two women would be arguing about this through lunch, stepped in. “Ladies, in honor of Ms. Grant’s upcoming nuptials, I declare lunch is on the house. Take these menus, look ‘em over and have Gina take your order.”

“Really!?” Both women squeaked at once.

Gina, another of Jason’s cousins, expertly took the salad orders at the counter. She then guided the two women to a recently emptied booth. A busboy came over and swiftly cleaned off the table. Lois and Cat sat down and chatted amicably about the latter’s confusion over the rumor. Jason himself brought over the food and presented each woman with a white pastry box.

“What’s this?” Cat asked curiously.

“Just a little tasty going away present for you and George – two Whispering Eye muffins. Lois, I know Clark likes Morning Glory muffins so there is one for him and a chocolate chip muffin for you. Enjoy ladies!” So saying, Jason bowed to them both and returned to his accustomed place behind the counter.

Lois dived into her salad with a will; it had been a long time since yogurt for breakfast. She still wondered why Cat had invited her to lunch. It was a little late for the two of them to develop a deeper relationship. Still, the two women talked over Cat’s wedding and her plans to return to school and finish her art degree.

“Since when were you ever interested in art?” Lois said.

“Always. My favorite period of study is the Renaissance. It was an amazing time. The arts, literature, science, engineering were all booming.” Cat’s green eyes shone with fascination.

“It was also a time when women were nothing more than breeders for the nobility.” Lois countered.

“Ha! That shows how much you know. Ever heard of Isabella d’Este?”

“No. Who was she? An artist?”

“Not an artist, but a patron of the arts. The art of conversation was infinitely more appreciated in those days. At seventeen she could skillfully hold her own against those twice her age. Not to mention she could play the lute beautifully.”

“After her husband’s death, she ruled Mantua and was very successful. Over the course of her lifetime, she wrote over two thousand letters. The contents held information on everything from politics to war. That was the nearest any woman came to writing history at that time. As an independent woman and writer, you would have liked her.”

Lois listened intently as Catherine Grant began to warm to her subject, discussing many important figures of that long ago era. Both women discovered they had barely touched their food and decided to finish eating before their lunchtime was completely over. < I’m still curious as to why Cat invited me out, now is as good a time to ask.>

“This is probably the best conversation we have ever had. Which brings me to the question, just why *are* we here?” Lois queried.

The older woman sat back in her chair and gave Lois an appraising look, the expression on her face thoughtful. She cleared her throat and began speaking. “I wanted to apologize for being so unprofessional to you over the years. We should have been working together, exchanging information, rather than being adversaries.”

Lois sat up straight in her chair, obliviously astonished to hear those words. “Excuse me?” she said, dumbfounded.

“Think about it. When Jenni, Janet and Corinna were reporters in the bullpen they worked together as a *team*. The story Jenni cracked from the scavenger hunt is but one example. Their unflagging support when I began working at the Planet was invaluable and I follow most of those lessons to this very day. Corrina used to go over my copy all the time. Janet always checked my information for me when it came to anything medical. Jenni expected me to back up all my little gossip tidbits with hard evidence and facts.”

“True,” Lois nodded. “Legal never had to triple check your stories.”

“No, they didn’t. Anyhow, I know it’s too late to be great friends, but as a woman in a male dominated profession I should have been as supportive to you as my mentors were to me. There were a couple of times when being the more experienced woman, I could have steered you from a… bad situation. So, I thought this lunch might help to say, ‘I’m sorry’.”

Once again, Catherine Grant’s frankness and tact surprised Lois. She was aware of which ‘bad situation’ she was talking about. Claude’s betrayal came at a time when her full reporter status was still fresh. Perhaps if Cat had warned her, the acutely embarrassing aftermath of that ill-fated relationship might never have happened. No, she probably would have ignored any warning Cat gave, checking the water level was just not her style.

A gentle smile played across her lips, “Thank you. I appreciate the lunch and the sentiments behind it. Honestly, George is the best thing that ever happened to you!”

“I believe the same should be said about Mr. Kent. The ‘partnership’ is working out better than anyone expected.” Cat’s trademark purr was clearly evident in her voice.

Lois looked back at her, not at all embarrassed or confused, but happy and proud of the intimate relationship she shared with Clark. It was stronger and more powerful than being alone. What started out as a bickering brother and sister rivalry had grown into something beautiful and tender. “Thank you Cat.” She answered with a genuine smile.

“Just calling it like I see it. Be happy, Lois. You deserve it.”

Silence stretched between the two, but before it got uncomfortable, Lois spoke, changing the subject.

“Sorry to hear Peggy Becker got your gig rather than Diane, she’s really good.”

“No, Diane needs to concentrate on writing hard news, not so much stuff in the Weekend Section or a gossip column. I’ve taken a look at her piece on Suicide Slum restoration by LexCorp - solid writing. It’s a good thing Leatherwood took the assignment away from Eduardo and gave it to Diane.”

“That’s high praise coming from you.” Lois answered.

“Yeah well, If Mrs. Luthor follows through on her plans; the area restoration is going to be fantastic. She didn’t mention anything about the project during your interview?”

“Nope, she was pretty involved in other matters and did not discuss it.”

“No doubt, poor woman. Imagine enjoying a whirlwind courtship, fantasy wedding and honeymoon, only to discover your husband has a terminal brain tumor.” Cat suppressed a shudder. In a faraway voice, she said. “Aykira really must be deeply in love with him.”

Lois, not wishing to dwell on Aykira’s misfortune, looked at her watch and said, "We need to get back to the Bullpen before Perry starts bellowing.”

“Yeah, I’m going to miss that southern gentleman’s bellow… and his Elvis stories.” Cat sighed as she gathered her things. “Do me a favor, Lois.”

“Sure. If I can.”

“This will be easy. Actually it’s two things.”

Sensing a trap, Lois looked at her former nemesis and waited for it to snap.

“Keep an eye on Diane for me?” Cat lowered her voice and in a contrite tone continued. “Be the friend and mentor to her that I *wasn’t* to you?”

For the second time in an hour, Cat Grant’s words had taken her by surprise. Here indeed was a different woman from the one who wanted to ‘test drive’ Clark in his Superman guise to ascertain if he was ‘domestic’ or ‘imported’. Concealing her amazement, Lois replied, “That’s not a problem. What’s the other request?”

“Drop me a line every once in a while? Let me know how life is going in the bullpen. I know you will give me a true view of what’s happening. Honestly, until just now, I did not realize how *much* I’m going to miss everyone.”

“Okay, expect an e-mail from me at least once a month.” Lois replied.

“Even if Clark and you are in the middle of a super hot investigation which is sure to yield yet another Kerth?” Cat asked in a teasing tone.

“Don’t push it, Grant!” Lois growled in typical ‘Mad Dog’ fashion.

“Oh I wouldn’t dream of doing it!” Cat laughed in her full-throated manner. “Now tell me, how is your mentoring going with Stacy? You know, the bespectacled intern from Wyoming? Is there a future Kerth award winner there?”

Lois shook her head mentally. Cat may be leaving the Daily Planet, but in her heart, she was still into collecting gossip. The lunch crowd had thinned to a few patrons, so it was easy to pull Jason out of the kitchen and wish him a restful vacation. Once that pleasant task was complete, they exited the Java Perk.

Part Twenty-One

It was an uncharacteristically warm day late in September when Catherine Grant and George Amundsen’s wedding finally arrived.

In his bedroom, Clark critically appraised his reflection in the mirror and nodded sage approval. He had taken great pains to look his absolute best in the elegant black and silver gray tuxedo. Today was a day unlike any other. “So, what do you think, Pepper, will I pass muster?”

The cat sat looking at his human from his now familiar perch on the foot of the neatly made bed. He cocked his tiny head to the side as if to say: ‘Looks good to me!’

Clark smiled and petted the feline. He was very happy that Mrs. Harper let him keep the cat. Even Lois had gotten used to him and playfully scolded the friendly cat whenever she found him curled up on her computer or research papers during their many nights of working together. Pepper had become the unofficial third member of their partnership.

Clark hoped today might end one chapter of their lives and begin another. Between his parents, Pete Ross and himself, it had taken a great deal of work and not a little subterfuge, to finish a project started only two weeks previously. Tonight he hoped it would provide the proper setting his heart yearned for. But for now, it was time to pick up his date.

<It would be so cool to arrive at the Farragut Hotel via Superman Express, unfortunately, that would cause way too many questions. Not to mention take a lot of attention away from Cat! Definitely not a good idea, part of this day belongs to her and George. Tonight is special – for Lois and I.> He gave himself another quick glance in the mirror, trotted down the stairs and exited the building. His heart was singing as happy feet hit the pavement towards a waiting black limousine. “She is never going to believe this ride,” he said aloud.

***

Lois studied the woman in the mirror with a critical eye; she wanted to look her absolute best. Today was a day unlike any other. Spending all morning at the beauty salon getting the full spa treatment: massage, manicure and pedicure, made her feel pampered and relaxed. Andre insisted on styling her hair in a classic upsweep to display her long neck and delicate ears, for the dress’s neckline was a little more provocative than what Lois usually wore to weddings. Nevertheless, tonight she intended to make a statement about who she was to the man who claimed her heart.

Lois glanced at the clock, it read three forty-five. She thought Clark had better not be late this afternoon. In the past few weeks, he had disappeared several times. She considered the number of rescues versus his various excuses and suspected there was more to this latest odd behavior than extra patrols.

Another thing; she could have sworn that she had caught a glimpse of Martha and Jonathan in the paint department of the Station Home store last week. She questioned Clark, but he merely touched his glasses, fumbled with his tie, and said she must be mistaken.

Such obvious nervous body language from him was a *definite* tip-off something unusual – even for him - was up. Nevertheless, she could be patient, a quality Lois had been forcing herself to develop. Being the girlfriend of Clark Kent promised to yield any number of unsuspected twists and turns. It was best to acclimate herself to them now.

A happy knocking sound on her front door put an end to further musing. “Clark, just a minute!” She called from the bathroom. Gathering up the skirt of her gown, Lois hurried to the door, opened the numerous locks, and said. “Don’t come in just yet, Clark, I’m not fully dressed,” she fibbed, then added, “No X-ray peeking!” Quick as her stocking feet could move she ran into the bedroom and slipped on the delicate strappy satin pumps. They cost a mint, but the sales clerk at Darcy’s swore they matched her dress perfectly.

Seconds later, she dabbed perfume behind her ears and wrists. The light jasmine bouquet swirled around the apartment, delicately feathering it with an opulent scent. She picked up a necklace and struggled with its clasp, then decided to let Clark fasten it. After all, isn’t that a task boyfriends… and husbands… do exceedingly well?

“Something smells delightful, like tropical flowers.” Clark’s voice called out from the living room.

“That’s because they *are* flowers, jasmine perfume to be precise,” she responded huskily. Clark, she noted with wry amusement as she entered the room, was speechless.

She simply overwhelmed him with her beauty, wearing a slightly off-the-shoulder confection of grace and timeless elegance. The dress's dark sea foam shade looked sumptuous against her radiant skin. She held up a necklace of green stones and asked softly. “Care to put it on for me?”

Clark, at last finding his voice, gulped out, “Sure.” Lois turned her back to him, while his warm fingers skillfully worked the lobster claw clasp. She shivered with delight when he laid his big gentle hands on her graceful shoulders and tenderly massaged them. “You look beautiful. Careful, Cat might get angry – outshining the bride and all…”

“Hmm, perhaps that might not be a bad thing, Mr. Kent,” she giggled when Clark wrapped his superbly strong arms around her slender waist and gave a loving hug. He proceeded to nuzzle her neck.

“We don’t have to go the wedding,” he murmured. “Maybe we should fly to Paris instead?”

“Paris,” Lois breathed dreamily. “Ooh, so much more fun, but Cat, would kill us, after all you have attendant duties to perform.”

“True,” he sighed, “can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Lois reluctantly broke from their embrace, to collect her purse and silk wrap. <Thank goodness for Darcy’s! This dress and all the accessories were worth every penny just to see the expression on Clark’s face!>

“OK I’m ready.” Lois grinned

Clark bowed and opened the door. “Milady, your chariot awaits thee.”

***

The Grant-Amundsen wedding exceeded Cat’s plans for glamour and excitement. George had insisted the occasion not become some celebrity filled ‘affair’. Instead, it was a tad splashy, with generous amounts of elegance and a touch of class. Very much a combination of Cat and George, which is the way a balanced wedding and relationship was supposed to be.

George stood at the raised platform with his best man and groomsmen, wearing a crisp black tuxedo by Armani. He did not look in the least bit nervous, but assured and ready to take on this new exciting facet of his life.

Suddenly a massive drum signaling the guests to be silent thundered in the background. The pounding ceased and seamlessly changed over to the traditional wedding march, as the double doors were thrown open. The guests stood up as the bridal party members began to cross the threshold into the ballroom. Entering first was petite but glamorous Jenni Reid, whose dainty footsteps moved down an aisle sprinkled with white rose petals. She wore a black gown with cap sleeves and white side peplum. Resting in her none too firm hands was a gloriously simple bouquet of white stargazer lilies.

Immediately following behind was Diane Pallister. The normally conservatively dressed woman had made a stunning transformation, wearing a black ball gown with pleating at the waist and a trumpet skirt. Her graceful long body held itself in serenity as each step she took kept pace with the music. She carried a bouquet of white magnolias, the scent delicately caressing all who breathed it in.

“Oh my, that’s *our* Diane?” Lois heard Jimmy gasp in a mixture of surprise and delight.

If Diane caused a stir, the bride raised the roof. The music died down once Diane reached the raised platform, then built to a gentle crescendo… then halted. All eyes pulled themselves from bridal party to the bride.

Perry White stood in the threshold of the double doorway, his carriage firm and tall, beaming with a father’s pride. By his side stood Catherine Helva Grant. Cat in any garb was an attractive, striking woman, but the one-shoulder ivory satin wedding gown proclaimed her classic Hollywood movie star looks to all present. Her glorious red hair was in a sweeping updo, held together with one delicate crystal pin in the shape of a sunburst. Totally, ‘cat’ glamorous.

As the strains of Vangelis ‘Chariots of Fire’ filled the room, Cat and Perry moved easily down the aisle. The gown’s fabric made delicate rustling sounds. Her intense green eyes focused on no one save George.

“Wow! That woman can make an entrance,” Jimmy breathed. “George better stick to her like superglue!”

Lois ignored the comment and looked to the back of the room at Clark, who unfortunately was seating a pair of latecomers – Aykira and Lex Luthor.

<What are *they* doing here?> Lois thought anxiously, than shamefully relented. <How many events will they attend before Lex is too ill to go anywhere? I’m glad Cat invited them. Hopefully, tonight will be special for them as well.>

Putting all thoughts of the Luthors and their particular situation aside, Lois clutched the wedding program in her hand and turned around to face the ceremony. Perry was just handing Cat over to George, who was grinning like crazy. Once again, there was an overwhelming feeling of warmth and friendship towards the bride. “I wish there was time for us to be acquainted as friends, not competitors,” Lois whispered softly.

Suddenly she felt a familiar presence by her side as Clark sat down next to her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be attending and seating late guests?” Lois teased.

“Relax, I can get back there before anyone knows I’m gone. This moment is too important to miss.”

“Well, that’s one advantage to having super speed,” she whispered so softly, only Clark could hear. They sat together, holding hands and blissfully taking in the ceremony. Cat spoke her vows, with a little catch in her voice. George spoke his without a single stumbled word. In a twist on tradition, the couple stepped back and allowed the best man, George’s brother, Aaron, to read lines of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet… with a few minor alterations:

Catherine's beauty would eclipse the sun as daylight does a lamp.

At night her eyes would shine so brightly in the sky that the birds

would think the night was over and start singing.

Diane followed by a few verses from Keats, also with slight changes:

My love for George is a thing of beauty is a joy for ever:

Its loveliness increases; it will never

Pass into nothingness; but still will keep

A bower quiet for us, and a sleep

Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

The officiant then stepped up to the platform again to pronounce Catherine and George husband and wife. Before George could kiss her, he had to borrow a hankie from Perry to dry Cat’s tears.

The guests held their breath as one. With a tenderness that only comes from deep caring and selflessness, George Amundsen sweetly kissed his new wife.

“Oh, how romantic,” gushed one of the female guests in front of Lois.

“I hope they are happier a year from now,” whispered another.

Lois smiled to herself, <They will be. George is the most important person in Cat’s life. If she puts half as much work into her marriage as she did this wedding, next year will be filled with greater memories.>

***

By her side, the Man of Steel stealthily wiped the single tear as it coursed down his face. Someday perhaps he and Lois could stand before a small circle of friends and declare their deep commitment to one another.

<How touching! Who would have thought any of us would see, Cat crying at her own wedding? Remembering the look of hurt in those green eyes after refusing her company during the Nightfall Asteroid disaster is indelibly etched in my mind. She only wanted to be with someone - to feel loved and not alone. Thankfully, Cat is alone no more.>

***

In Metropolis’ upper circles, the Farragut Hotel had a well-deserved reputation for its traditional cocktail hour. During that respite between ceremony and reception the hotel’s superbly trained staff would magically transform the ballroom from nuptial site to reception area. The large waiting chamber outside the ballroom held the guests, laughing and talking while they nibbled on hors d’oeuvres and sipped chilled champagne from tall flute glasses. Lofty walls painted a rich royal blue had mirror panels making the space more expansive yet comfortable. In the background, fusion jazz played; the smooth music caught everyone’s festive mood and made it even more celebratory. The plush thick carpet underneath the attendees’ feet absorbed much of the joyful noise.

Several members of Metropolis elite society were present, chief among them Lex and his beautiful new bride Aykira. This was their first public appearance since their return from Greece and Lex’s surgery. He looked immensely better, even dashing in his tuxedo. His dark hair had grown back and was so artfully styled none would have suspected he had recently undergone neurosurgery.

“My sweet, thank you for getting me out of the penthouse and accepting this invitation. If I have not said it already, the burgundy silk looks delicious next to your skin.”

“Flatterer. Perhaps I can display my appreciation for your kind words later?” She whispered in his ear.

“We can leave early… if you wish.” Her husband smiled then kissed her hand. Their intimate conversation was interrupted by a business acquaintance of Lex’s. Without missing a step, they stood by a tall palm tree, amicably chatting with the man and his latest girlfriend.

***

“This is a lovely event. Cat outdid herself.” Alice White exclaimed. “Perry looked so handsome and proud walking her down the aisle. It is the only time he’ll have that honor since we have only boys.”

“Yeah, the chief looked relaxed and… fatherly. Elegance like this is the way all wedding receptions ought to be!”

“Why James Olsen, that’s such a sweet comment! There are the makings of a real gentleman in you,” Alice said, her eyes twinkling merrily.

Steve walked over with his wife and they chatted for a while, and then moved on to another group.

Despite herself, Lois had to agree with everyone. The entire ceremony went off without a hitch. It was a little overdone by her standards. A small intimate ceremony with close family and friends was all any couple needed. Not some over blown mega event people forget about a month later. However, no matter the size and style of the ceremony the most important thing was that the couple remain as thrilled with each other next year as they are today.

Clark came over to her, placing his hand on the small of her back. She turned and looked up at him, knowing she gazed with certainty at the future.

“Lois, I found these chocolate mini-croissants. Care to give them a try?” He held out the tiny glass serving saucer with two bite-sized croissants drizzled with milk chocolate resting upon a white lace napkin.

“Yes! I’m famished!” She took one and bit delicately into it, her eyes swirling with delight. “Perfection,” she mumbled after finishing. <He is so attentive and loving! I was going to take a career in journalism over *him*? Martha was right, he’s the only man I want to have children with….>

Lois startled herself with this thought, so much so she coughed.

“Hey, are you OK?” Clark asked his eyes filled with genuine concern.

She stared into those warm loving brown eyes, took his hand and whispered so only he could hear, “I’m fine, Clark, better than I have ever been.”

The two were momentarily lost in each other’s eyes, when Alice discreetly cleared her throat. “The Reception Coordinator has called us in... hear the drums?”

Lois and Clark turned to Alice, nodded in agreement and made their way to the double doors Cat had passed through only an hour before. As each of the guests entered, their senses were treated to a feast. Transformation seemed to be too poor of a word to describe the ballroom. The room seemed to glow with the light of a thousand and one candles. Hanging from the ceiling, a crystal chandelier, mate to the one in the waiting area, shone down additional illumination. A fragile, telltale fragrant scent of stargazer lilies filled the air and teased the guests’ sense of smell.

Each of the fifteen tables was draped in heavy, white damask linen. Atop the linen glistened elegant china, silverware and crystal drinking vessels. The chairs were covered in black linen, each tied in place with a large matching white damask linen bow.

The ballroom had high green and cream colored walls on three sides; the fourth wall was a series of ceiling to floor windows opening onto Hobbs Bay at night. Its numerous skyscrapers glistening like polished gems, the city of Metropolis was the unwitting guest-of-honor at the Amundsen’s wedding.

“Oh my goodness,” Alice breathed. “When Catherine Grant… uh Amundsen plans a wedding, she does it right.”

Clark let out a low whistle as he and Lois walked towards the guest table to get their place cards. “No arguments there.”

“What table are you seated at?” Jimmy, bring up the rear asked.

“According to our place cards, Perry and I are at table four,” Alice responded.

“So are we,” Lois said looking at the card.

“Oh no! I’m at table six… no one is seated there yet. Can I hang out with you guys until…”

Jimmy’s voice trailed off; as he noticed a trio of pretty elegantly dressed young ladies taking their seats at table six. He clapped Clark on the back, adjusted his tie and said, “CK, forget what I just said… I’m *definitely* sitting at table six!”

So saying, he moved smoothly over to the table, introduced himself and dived into an animated discussion with the young women.

“There *is* hope for that young man yet!” Alice said while trying to keep from laughing.

“I thought Jimmy might be lost without Jack, but he’ll be fine.” Lois said shaking her head.

“Well, Cat had to cut the list somewhere and Jack simply has not been around long enough to be invited. Janet, Erin and Corrina’s spouses had to come first.” Clark said while shrugging his shoulders.

***

The evening passed like a dream for Lois and Clark. They slow-danced with each other under the glittering crystal chandelier as if there was no one in the world except each other. They switched partners once or twice, Clark even ‘dipped’ Alice. Lois did a mean jitterbug with an ecstatic Jimmy. But they always came back to find each other.

“Farmboy, those ballroom dancing lessons have really paid off.” His partner whispered huskily into his ear. “Gene Kelly is the only one to match your moves.”

“So, my dancing is better than my… otherworldly abilities?” Clark asked his smile dazzling as he whirled her around.

“Let’s just say this is one of your better ‘earth bound’ ones. However, flying is always welcome,” she chuckled softly.

***

At the bridal table, Cat sat with George, drinking champagne and quietly talking together. “Ready for our honeymoon, baby? By the way, where are we going? It’s kinda hard to pack beyond toiletries when I don’t know the destination.” Cat said.

“I… I took the liberty of packing for you. How does a two-week cruise of the Mediterranean sound?”

Cat gathered her husband in a huge hug and purred. “That’s fantastic! I always wanted to see the Greek isles! Mr. Amundsen, you are the best! No one else makes me hear drums inside my head whenever he’s around.” Her green eyes flashed with anticipated delight and tossed her head. “What a fantastic sound!”

“Is that why you started the ceremony and reception with drums?” He asked while arching an eyebrow.

She nodded and added with a wicked smile, “That and to remind you of our fifth date.”

Her new husband flushed a brilliant shade of red. Cat had turned him from a solitary, albeit athletic, bookworm to a man willing to explore life… and take a few risks. However, he was still concerned about one thing. “Honey,” George asked shyly, “Are you ready to live in Seattle? It’s still a big city, but not as fast paced as Metropolis.”

The former gossip columnist looked around the ballroom, seeing so many familiar faces laughing and enjoying themselves, partaking in their delight of this special day. She wanted to cling to these people, this moment to be forever held in the amber of her memory. Her time in Metropolis had been exhilarating, but it was time to turn the page.

Perry White, the senior editor, had given her a job when no one else would and she worked her fingers to the bone paying back that favor. He was more than just the Chief; he was a friend, mentor and sometimes exasperated father. Who better to give her away?

Jenni, Corrina, and Janet; three of the best friends she had ever known, each woman an acknowledged expert in her respective niche of newspaper journalism. They welcomed her to the bullpen and assisted her whenever possible. Jenni had become the sister she never had and despite the separation of continent and ocean, that sisterhood and love of a good story held them together.

Lois Lane. Funny, she had known Lois for years as difficult, feisty and ready to get the assignment done. *Almost* a fitting replacement for Jenni as a reporter, if not as a friend. Sadly, Lois always walked alone, especially after the Claude debacle. But now, Cat could no longer see the younger woman without Clark by her side, any more than she could imagine being without George.

Clark Kent. In a way, she owed all her current and future happiness to this gentle man from Kansas. After he refused to spend the last few hours on Earth with her during the Nightfall disaster, Cat took time to reconsider seriously her life’s path. She turned her back on meaningless liaisons and opened herself to something very precious and rare; an honest relationship and true love.

Jimmy ‘little cousin’ Olsen: he at one time wanted to share a night of passion with her, but once discovering they were related, she put an end to that pronto! Watching his growth as a man and as a professional had been most gratifying.

Diane Pallister was the perfect maid of honor. <Hopefully, she’ll take my advice and start doing some feature writing. She’s too good a writer to languish in the Weekend section. Lane and Kent need some healthy competition.>

Cat studied Lois and Clark on the dance floor sinuously moving to Etta James “At Last” and smiled. “Yes George, I’m ready to move to Seattle, but we have to come back here in about six months.”

“Why?”

“Because there is no way I’m going to miss *their* wedding!” she said as she pointed at Lois and Clark.

***

The sleek black limousine pulled noiselessly up to Lois’ apartment. The driver jumped out, ran around the side, and opened the door. Clark stepped out first and extended his hand to Lois. He held her as she gracefully exited the car and slipped gently into his arms. They began to kiss, completely ignoring the driver, who, taking the hint merely tipped his cap and began to walk away.

“Wait! H…here’s your tip! Thank you for driving us.” Clark stumbled over his words, totally embarrassed that he had forgotten to tip the man.

The driver, seeing the generous amount of money thrust into his hand, smartly saluted and gave Clark a toothy grin. “It was my pleasure to drive you. Have a good evening, uh morning.” Within seconds of him closing the car door, the engine came to life and the powerful vehicle moved down the street.

Lois leaned against Clark, wrapping her slender arms around his waist. “That was the *best* wedding I’ve been to in a long time. Care to come up for some coffee?”

He looked down at Lois and gently kissed her on the cheek. He pulled back and smiled at her. “Actually it isn’t that late… care to go for a walk?”

“You heard what the driver said; it’s 1:30 in the morning. Besides, it’s not exactly summer anymore. Autumn is just around the corner.”

“Is that the voice of Lois Lane, investigative reporter extraordinaire, afraid of a little walk?” He teased.

Lois looked into the deep brown eyes of her boyfriend and smiled confidently. <No, I’m not afraid of a little walk, especially not with this particular man at my side.> Without another word she slipped her arm into his and with easy strides they began walking towards Nayland Heights. The mood between the handsome couple was one of contentment and tranquility. They had experienced a great deal in the past few months: stakeouts, crazy scientists and politicians who worked to bury their story. Not to mention the occasional argument and misunderstandings, which always led to conversation and making up. Nevertheless, through it all Lois and Clark weathered the storms.

They were stronger together than apart.

They started talking about different events from the wedding and reception, especially Perry’s wonderful rendition of ‘Love Me Tender’. What their boss lacked in vocal ability he more than made up for in style. It did not hurt that while Perry sang his eyes never left Alice’s.

“Funny, after that song, they went home. I wonder why?” Lois said with a barely suppressed giggle.

“Perry, as much as he likes to hide it, is a man in love.” Clark spoke with a slight tremor in his voice. He had slowed his pace then stopped suddenly in front of a newly renovated stately brownstone.

“Whoa, partner!” Lois blurted out as she bumped into him. “Why are we stopping here?

“I want you to see this house. Isn’t the architecture fantastic? It’s early twentieth century,” Clark said as he gently tugged her arm to walk up the wide steps. One side of the staircase, on each step sat a colorful pot of red mums, the unofficial flower of autumn.

“Are you kidding me? In the middle of the night…while in our dressiest clothes? This isn’t like you. I don’t care what century it was built. Besides, Superman does not break into someone’s home,” she whispered.

Clark’s eyes twinkled and his smile grew dazzling bright as he reached into his pocket. “We are not breaking in. Besides, I have a key.” He dangled the burnished scrap of metal in front of her.

“What are *you* doing with a key to this townhouse?” Lois’ voice squeaked in surprise.

Her boyfriend merely continued to grin while fitting the key into the shining brass lock of the impressive glass and oak outer door. With a wave of his outstretched hand, he motioned for Lois to enter, step through the vestibule and into the foyer. As she did so, he turned on the entry lights to illuminate the foyer, which was spacious and inviting. On the right side was an old-fashioned wooden coat rack and umbrella stand. Directly opposite sat a solid oak bench with curved legs and a rattan top. The polished wooden floors shone to a high gloss, so much so, Lois was concerned about walking on it for fear of ruining the finish. As she entered into the cream-colored living room, her eyes grew wide taking in the space. This room alone could easily contain her entire apartment with room to spare.

The fireplace had a brick surround and white mantelpiece. Inside were three huge logs ready to be lit. Just in front of the fireplace lay a carpet and on either side were comfortable red couches, the kind of couch that invites a person to sit down and read on a cold winter’s evening.

To the immediate left of the fireplace were a pair of broad French doors which she thought must lead to a tiny backyard. The darkness outside did not allow her to peek any further.

“What do you think? Care to go for a tour?”

“This place is a dream! OK, buster, you have some explaining to do… after the tour!”

He led her upstairs to the bedrooms, four in all. Currently, two of the large rooms were empty and one room, which served as an office, held Clark’s artwork and several mementoes from his global travels, all neatly arranged in his usual organized manner. The final room was the master bedroom suite; Lois peeked to see a stunning bedroom set a classic bungalow design perfect for the young professional in desperate need of a sleeping sanctuary. The king-sized bed was flanked by matching nightstands of polished wood. It was sumptuously covered with crisp blue and cream linens, topped off by four plush pillows.

The rest of the room held a tallboy dresser and a chair placed by the window. In front of the bed was a large wicker chest, which probably stored Martha’s lovely warm knitted blankets and hand stitched quilts.

They moved onto the bathroom with bright white tiles and the huge bathtub with claw feet. The double sinks and spacious cabinets were perfect for a busy couple getting ready in the morning. No waiting to use this particular bathroom. The room was so pristine and white it almost hurt Lois’ eyes.

“Clark, I’m speechless.” His partner said as they walked back downstairs. “This place is amazing.”

“How can you say that? What about the kitchen?”

“Why would I be interested in the kitchen?” Lois countered.

“Good point,” he mumbled.

“Hey, I don’t have to have super hearing to hear that!” Lois fired back, slapping him playfully with her green, beaded purse.

All he could do was smile once more, take her hand and lead Lois into the kitchen on the far right side of the fireplace. Again, the scent of cleanliness and warmth filled her as she entered the space. The eat-in kitchen and desk area were bathed in a classy palette of white and heavy cream with touches of blue, while a mixture of metal finishes provided additional layers of interest. The white New England–style cabinets were adorned with sleek polished-nickel hardware. The focal point of the room demanding Lois’ attention was a glorious island made of walnut topped off with dark blue granite.

“Oh, my…,” were the only words to escape her mouth.

“I’m glad you like. Now… for the ‘special’ room, a room only you and I will ever see.” Clark said as he pushed open the swinging door, leading back into the living room.”

His movements were so quick she missed them, but part of the wall to the immediate right of the fireplace slid back, revealing an eight foot deep walk-in closet with shelves, hangers, and drawers.

“What is this?” A secret chamber?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Actually, it used to be a bar. This townhouse was once a speakeasy. I could probably see Pino ‘Pretty Boy’ Dragonetti being a patron here and making plans for all his illegal bootleg activities. If these walls could talk, just imagine all the gangland stories they might tell.”

“Hmm, after what we heard about him I wouldn’t doubt it for a second. Oh well, Batman needs a place to hang his cowl. Superman needs space for his cape. Urgh! Did I actually say that?” she groaned.

“This is the ideal place to store my spare uniforms. However, this is certainly not the best part. Wait until you see the crowning piece to this townhouse.” Clark said as the secret chamber was concealed once again.

“There’s more?” Lois squeaked with uncharacteristic meekness as she followed behind.

“Absolutely!” He flung open the French doors, the scent of fresh autumn air tingled her nose. Not gas fumes and the other noxious scents of the city, but real floral garden fragrances. No light escaped from the area beyond the doors. She might as well have been looking into the bottom of a great canyon so inky was the blackness.

“That does it,” she said striding up to Clark’s tall frame and staring up into his laughing eyes. “OK, Clark, what’s going on around here? Whose house is this? Why are your things here? Are you house-sitting? What about your apartment? Come on… spit it out!”

Suddenly a low, quiet meow was heard from the top of the steps. Lois turned to see Pepper poking his head between the pickets of the stairwell. The tiny feline was intently observing his humans with gentle green eyes. She turned back to Clark and then turned again to the cat. “Pepper’s here?”

“Well, of course he’s here. He’s mine.”

“What is going on?” She demanded before Clark could utter another word. “I thought he was going back with Mrs. Harper? Not that I have anything against the little furball, he’s a nice addition to your family.”

“Well, Mrs. Harper is moving back to St. Louis in order to take care of her mother. She couldn’t take Pepper with her so I sort of adopted him. She was so grateful that she – huh… sold me this townhouse at a wonderful price. It belonged to her husband, but after his death, she couldn’t live here, it was so full of happy memories. Well, at least I don’t have to worry about looking for a place to live.” He said all this very fast with a sweet lopsided grin.

“Fantastic. A townhouse. So, *that’s* the reason why you have been disappearing so much the past two weeks?

“Guilty as charged. Mom, Dad and to a lesser extent Pete Ross have been helping me make all kinds of renovations.” Clark took both of Lois’ hands in his and said, “Thanks for the comment about Pepper. But Lois, you are an even nicer addition to my family. Come. Let me show you.”

He led her to the doors, stood behind her, then gently placed his hands on her shoulders and spoke softly into her ears. “I want you to close your eyes and slowly count to five, then open them, but not until you reach five. OK?”

The beautiful brunette trembled with barely concealed excitement, and then nodded her head. He could hear the sound of her heart beating rapidly. “Okay, start counting.”

“One.” The whooshing sound of Clark in flight filled her ears.

“Two.” The smell of sulfur and the sweet aroma of wild flowers teased her nostrils.

“Three.” The taste of wickedly delicious Swiss milk chocolate touched her tongue.

“Four.” The touch of a warm metal band circled her left wrist.

“Five!” She felt the darkness ease and opened her eyes to a riot of autumn colors and sights.

The garden was surprisingly large by city standards, at least fifty feet deep. Sitting on a carpet of fading grass, autumn flowers such as crocus and amaryllis were in large azure earthenware containers. Cyclamens in white and a range of pink shades, with glossy green leaves, added a welcome dash of vibrancy. The air was crisp and light, but with a hint of mystery.

A gray flagstone path was lighted by tiny in-ground lights that led to a wooden double roof ten-foot high, cedar gazebo. Inside the small structure shone tiny lights upon several objects: a black wrought iron table with chairs, a striking, unlit antique candelabra, a bottle of wine, and two glasses. Nearby lay a small colorful bouquet of red roses.

“Oh Clark, it’s breathtaking.” She whispered, scarcely able to tear her eyes away from the scene. “A secret garden nestled in Metropolis…”

He took her right hand, the fabric of her dark sea green gown rustled as they walked down the flagstone path. Upon entering the structure, Clark lit the candelabra with his heat vision. It was than Lois noticed a gold bracelet etched with what she suspected was Kryptonian writing encircling his left wrist, similar to the one encircling her own.

“Wh…what are these matching gold bracelets, Clark? I just noticed them on our wrists.”

The handsome man in front of her bowed his head, took a deep breath, and spoke.

“Remember the globe we found at that warehouse owned by Bureau 39?”

Lois’ eyes lighted up. “Yes, the one that was so important to Super… you.”

“The globe told me a great deal about myself and who I am. Why my parents built a tiny craft and launched me into space. But it also taught me a number of customs, chiefly - Kryptonian marriage customs. Men and women of the nobility class wear bracelets in a color variation no other couple is allowed to copy. I… I placed that solid gold bracelet on your wrist. It is a symbol to all onlookers, our lives are intertwined. The Kryptonian script says Lois and Clark.”

“B… but that’s on Krypton,” Lois answered, her eyes brimming with tears and her voice trembling.

“Lois, life is made up of the moments, ever since that day I meet you in Perry’s office; you have given me nothing but wonderful moments. True, sometimes they were a little scary, but always full of wonder.” He reached behind the roses and picked up a small black box with gold trim. As the moonlight filtered through the rooftop, he bent down on one knee and took her hand. “Lois Lane, will you marry me? Stay on the road we started walking … forever by each other’s side?”

“Oh Clark… yes,” she sighed.

Slowly he opened the box and inside is an elegant perfect diamond ring. He took the ring out of the box, slipped it onto her finger and smiled joyously. He gathered her into his arms and whispered huskily. “I look forward to sharing forever with you Lois.”

“Now, always and forever my dearest friend,” She answered.

Part Twenty-Two

Moonlight and starlight fused effortlessly and their radiance tumbled gently down over the scores of Metropolis rooftops. The silvery illumination touched majestic skyscrapers and humble shops. Some of the city’s inhabitants welcomed the moon’s brilliance while some of its more seedy denizens scorned its very existence. The evening radiance reached one particular neighborhood and then a certain townhouse, its lush well lit garden filled with vivacious guests in happy anticipation of a long awaited event. It had been exactly one year and a month since Bobby Bigmouth had provided Lois Lane and Clark Kent with the tip which set the intrepid reporting team on the fateful journey culminating in this evening.

The townhouse’s large backyard garden was the perfect backdrop for an eventide wedding. It had taken a tremendous amount of labor and planning on everyone’s part, to create an outdoor room that worked as a location for the Lane-Kent reception. All the hard work had paid off handsomely. The riot of colors and scents were remarkable, set off as they were by blazing torches and lanterns. Dark red plum tree leaves and fiery red Japanese maple leaves contrasted perfectly with the lush lavender on the pathway to the gazebo. Slender yet regal Italian cypress lined the fences, masking the wooden fence from onlookers. Jonathan chose these plants for a two-fold purpose: firstly to hide the garden from unwelcome attention and secondly because the plants displayed their fresh vibrant color for a long period.

Heady intermingled scents of lavender, jasmine and tulips wafted through the night air, enhancing the sense of eager anticipation among the guests.

Garden scents were not the only fragrances tantalizing the senses. Mike Lane and his staff labored in the kitchen to create a sumptuous culinary feast for the guests.

Clark stood underneath the gazebo, talking with Pete Ross and James Olsen, best man and groomsman respectively. He attempted to remain calm and relax, but it was proving to be extremely difficult. Today was the day he had dreamed of ever since Lois barged into Perry’s office and forever changed his life. Now with their union so soon to be accomplished, how could he *pretend* to be a composed and patient groom?

Some of the company glanced over to the handsome trio and wondered aloud why a ‘certain person’ was missing from the group.

“Wonder why Superman isn’t here? Isn’t he supposed to be a good friend of both Clark and Lois?” The insistent question flowed like ripe red wine among the guests.

Clark’ hyper-sensitive hearing had picked up on the comment more than once; he tried hard to ignore it until Judge Peterson, the officiant, asked the same question.

“Huh… well.” Clark stammered.

Pete Ross stepped up to the Judge, the big blonde man towered over the older one. “Well your honor, it’s like this; Superman knows how important this day is to Lois and Clark. He doesn’t want to take any of the attention away from them. But don’t worry, he’s probably watching from an *excellent* vantage point.”

Satisfied, the Judge walked off, no doubt to inform the other guests as to the reason for the Man of Steel’s absence.

“Thanks Pete. I owe you one!” whispered a relieved Clark.

“Hmm, that tab keeps getting bigger and bigger!” his friend replied with a grin.

Jimmy looked from one man to the other, decided it was some Smallville ‘inside’ joke. He excused himself and went to talk with Jack about the music.

The guests, around forty of the Lane-Kent’s most intimate friends and family, blended freely and talked of the couple’s early days as partners and their many journalistic exploits together. Several expressed the opinion that Lois had finally met her match in Clark, while they all agreed he had bonded with his soul mate.

Six months has passed since Clark proposed to Lois in that very garden on a moonlight night in September. Six months.

Of disappointment.

Of shattered dreams.

Of heartbreak.

The delegation of New Kryptonians had arrived scarcely a week after Lois started wearing the sweet diamond ring Clark had slipped onto her finger. The powerful trio; Ching, Zara and his first cousin Yar-El appeared to him and Lois at the townhouse early one evening. The New Kryptonian council had been searching from him for years and now that Kal-El had been located, he must fulfill his destiny. They demanded his return with them to New Krypton to take up the mantle of First Lord... and marry Zara his birth-wife.

Clark was adamant he would not leave Earth. After long, intense arguments with Trey and several members of the Kryptonian High Council, Clark had won his point. As far as he was concerned the only link he had to any of them was his Kryptonian DNA. Everything, everyone he held dear, his life, home and love were all on this planet. Not someplace where the culture, languages and customs would force him be more alone, more isolated than ever before.

The High council reluctantly decreed that his cousin, Yar-El would take his place as First Lord. The only official act that Kal-El did set into motion was severing the marriage bond to Zara, thus allowing her the freedom to marry Ching.

It seemed that as soon as Zara, Ching and the New Krypton throne ship departed from Earth’s orbit that another delay to their wedding cropped up. The Daily Planet became the epicenter of a long drawn out proxy fight between Franklin Stern and international financier and media mogul, Gregory Daae.

The reporting team spent long hours working with New Troy’s Financial Industry Regulatory Authority to ferret out some of Daae’s questionable practices in previous fights. Nevertheless that was almost not enough to stop the proxy battle. Stern won, but only because Lex Luthor stepped in at the last minute to provide his old rival with his proxy, turning the tide against the younger man.

Lois and Clark, fed up with all the delays, determined to marry before another fiasco occurred. Both families agreed to opt for a small intimate wedding and reception at Clark’s townhouse rather than a lavishly planned social event. Once the catering arrangements by Uncle Mike and landscaping per Jonathan Kent were completed, Lois and Clark could exchange their marriage vows before all those they held dear.

***

Upstairs in the master suite, the Lane women and Martha Kent were helping Lois prepare. Emotions were upbeat and happy, although Ellen Lane was trying to rush her daughter downstairs according to her timetable.

“Lois, come on, hurry up, everyone is waiting for you! Honestly, this is the one day a woman should *not* be late! Lucy, where is that box?”

“What box?” Lucy asked, feigning innocence as she hid a small box behind her back.

“The one you are hiding from your Mother.” Martha said dryly.

“Thank you, Martha! I cannot keep these girls of mine straight sometimes.” Ellen plucked the slightly worn blue and gold velvet oblong box from behind Lucy’s back.

Since Lois was in the process of lowering her veil, Ellen Lane did not see the look of utter exasperation come over her face. Her mother began to launch into a long diatribe about respect for one’s elders and remembering how important today was to her.

Lois asked, hoping to cease the verbal onslaught. “Mother please! Stop dragging out the suspense…what is in the box?”

Ellen gazed at the object which she held lovingly in her hands, “My grandmother’s pearls.” Ellen said in hushed tones. “They have not seen the light of day since my wedding to your father. I…I thought it was time they took center stage. They were re-strung especially for this occasion.”

The three women watched in respectful silence as Ellen opened the box and removed the graceful three-strand necklace from its box and reverently placed it around Lois’ neck. Although the dress was decidedly a modern affair: an off the shoulder column of silvery white satin, with a wrap sash draped down the side, her grandmother’s pearls gave Lois’s ensemble a charming old-fashioned allure, nodding respectfully to times and persons long past.

Lois touched the pearls and whispered, “Oh mother, it is beautiful and matches my dress perfectly. Thank you.”

Ellen Lane looked back at her oldest child; she smiled as tears glistened in her eyes. “Martha, you were right about the dress; it *does* make my child look like royalty. Great Grandma would have been proud of you… I know I am.”

No words were spoken for a moment as the Lane women encircled themselves into a group hug. Martha looked at the trio, smiled quietly, then made to leave the bedroom. Perhaps she could give her personal gift to Lois later.

Abruptly, a rock and roll version of the wedding march blared loud and sharp from the garden below.

Ellen’s head went up like a shot and her voice exploded. “Lucy! That boyfriend of yours was told *not* to play such rubbish! It should be Beethoven’s “Night Music”. How is Lois supposed to walk down the aisle to that noise? Honestly, with all the things I have to manage today, music ought *not* be one of them. My poor nerves are going to pieces! Martha, *please* help Lois, this wedding is running behind schedule. Lucy, come on, young woman, we are going down there and we’ll straighten him out this instant!”

“But Mom, I *told* Jimmy to play that. After all, cousin Cindy had it in her last two weddings…”

Thankfully her mother’s response was lost as Lois heard two sets of loud footsteps pounding down the wooden staircase.

She turned and looked at Martha Kent. In Martha’s hands was a lovely midnight blue satin lingerie bag, the kind elegant ladies at one time used to pack their most intimate garments.

“Lois, I thought this might come in handy – for later. Uh, when you and Clark go to Hawaii.” Martha placed it in the younger woman’s hands.

“Oh it’s wonderful! I love how it feels! Between preparations for the wedding and working in the garden, when did you have time to make it?” Lois asked.

“The night Clark told us you were engaged.” Martha’s eyes began to twinkle. “Look inside. You know the old wedding saying: ‘something old, something new something borrowed and something blue’. Ellen provided parts of the saying. You are wearing a dress inspired from Clark’s maternal grandmother, Lady Polara. Perhaps this will fulfill the rest.”

Lois reached inside and pulled out a lovely wedding garter with a blue bow, and a gently faded white organza ruffle. The fabric of the bow felt oddly familiar.

“Martha…?”

“The blue is from his baby blanket which wrapped him securely during his flight from Krypton to Earth. The organza ruffle came from my own wedding gown.” Martha said mischievously.

“Oh, let’s put it on right now! But, the garter is not going to be part of any tacky reception ‘rite’! No one is going to see this little gift except Clark – later.” So saying, Lois gently lifted up the sumptuous fabric, daintily placed her stocking foot on the wooden chest at the foot of the bed and quickly pulled the garter up to her thigh. Once the delicate folds of silvery white material shimmered back into place, no one except the two women knew the garter with its mingled histories was there.

***

Looking at Clark’s bride, Martha could not help but feel excitement, deep contentment and a touch of melancholy all at once. Time had rushed by so rapidly! Today was her son’s wedding day. So many blissful memories stemmed from that amazing night in Schuster’s Field. The tiny passenger of the interstellar ship had provided a great deal of joy and happiness in her and Jonathan’s life. Each day with him had proved to be an adventure; first words, first steps… first flight. Now Clark was embarking on a new adventure; marrying a woman who would be his friend, helpmate, partner and so much more. A single tear slipped down Martha’s face as she helped Lois with her veil.

“Are you ready, honey?” Martha asked with a catch in her voice.

The younger woman gazed down at the older one, saw the tear, and took her hand. “Yes, I am. Thank you for the gift and I don’t mean the garter.”

Martha’s expression was puzzled and before she could speak, Lois said, “Clark is the greatest gift I have ever received, but you and Jonathan had a hand in making him the incredible person he is today.”

“Thank you.” Martha reached into her purse and pulled out a lace hankie. “He is a good son and you are a good daughter, together you will make an exceptional couple.” No other words came as the two women embraced and happy tears cascaded down their faces.

The intensely personal moment was broken when Ellen Lane barreled into the room with a properly chastised Lucy in tow. “Lois! Look at your make-up! What will the photographer say? Lucy, get the make-up case. Honestly, I can’t leave you alone for a second! Oh, did I mention Mike has done a wonderful job catering this event? Lois, Grace is a very charming lady. Although I still can’t believe they are seeing one another. Oh well, maybe I can get her to make that sweater for me. By the way Martha, I think Clark wants to see you, something about taking more photos.”

Martha nodded, trying hard not to laugh listening to Ellen’s babble. Quickly she picked up her purse, and exited the room, leaving Ellen and her daughters to spend a few last minutes together before the ceremony.

***

Thousands of miles away on the isle of Santorini, a couple sat quietly on the same terrace where they exchanged wedding vows. They were enjoying the sight of a vast blue sea stretched before them like a shimmering silken garment. The man adjusted the wide brim straw hat that covered his face, effectively shielding his eyes from the brilliant reflections of light glittering off the sea. He had just finished reading a book of poetry, Shakespeare’s sonnets in a voice that had in the past been harsh and demanding, but presently held nothing but love for the stunning woman by his side.

“Your reading was beautiful. Lex, thank you.” Aykira said with a smile.

“The Bard always says things in a way we mere mortals cannot.” He grew quiet and reflective, and then spoke again. “It seems like time is moving faster with each day. We have been married nearly eight months, yet I feel as if we have always been husband and wife. Thank you for saying yes, my sweet.”

Aykira said nothing, but took his hand. “Are you sorry we did not return to Metropolis and attend the wedding?”

“Yes, in a small way. It was kind of Clark Kent to invite us, but the relationship we have with them is still precarious. Besides, this is their day, our - or rather my - presence might be distracting.”

She ran her left hand soothingly up his arm; the light caught the facets of her engagement ring and wedding band. After nearly a year of wearing them, she still loved to look at the rings and watch them glisten in the light. “Lex, they care about us. All the good work accomplished by the Superman foundation and your efforts to thwart Daae have drawn us together into something of a friendship. Perhaps, we can build on that. But I must say, being here is a restful change from the demands of LexCorp and life in Metropolis.”

“Yes, it is.” Once again, Lex grew silent, as if in an apprehensive mood.

They sat together in companionable silence looking out to the sea, as the waves crashed against the rocks below in an unending cadence. Presently, Aykira stood and stretched, the creamy white linen dress outlining her lithe body, and she walked over to a small table where Chef Andre had arranged a light luncheon. She returned with two glasses of sparkling fruit punch, set one on the edge of the terrace, than placed another in Lex’s hand. After he took a brief sip, she settled herself again into the chair.

“All right, Lex, out with it.”

He sighed and said, “How did you know?”

“It is very obvious; the brooding mood has prevailed all morning.”

A brief smile tugged at his thin lips. “You know me too well, woman.”

“Yes, like I know your calendar. So… what is on your mind?”

“You, my sweet.”

Taken aback, she responded, “I am flattered of course, but why?”

Lex leaned back, not as a movement to relax, but as preparation for a rather somber conversation. He was not in the habit of doing something of this nature, even with her. But although it was difficult, oh so difficult, he knew it must be done. He stared at Aykira; his wife was a mystery, wrapped by an enigma held together by a gossamer ribbon of puzzlement. Again, he realized marrying her had been the wisest thing he had ever done. When he awoke from the surgery, she was there holding his hand. During every crisis, great and small she stood by his side. No one else besides his parents had ever been so compassionate and warm towards him.

A space station was nothing more than a cold metallic object hurling majestically through an endless frigid blackness. However, marriage to the right woman was the best way to honor his parents’ memory. He cleared his throat and spoke.

“This is important for me to say and as you are aware, admitting to weakness of any kind is not pleasant for me.  I had been meaning to speak these words before our marriage.  I… I should have spoken them on our wedding night.”

“Shhh, no need my love, we were pleasantly occupied that night. Thank you for your patience and understanding, I knew so little, yet you taught me so well.” Aykira smiled wickedly.

“With a body as wonderfully sensitive and giving as yours…” He smiled at her; the memories of that night still brought feelings of intense pleasure. “Yes, we were… very pleasantly occupied.” He took her hand and kissed it. The sweet memories of their wedding chamber indelibly etched in his mind.

Aykira’s facial expression went from teasing to one of deep concern and her heartbeat fluttered. “So, what is it? You are all right? Dr. Kassaten said…”

“No, no. Remember, our agreement, no discussion or concerns about my illness while visiting Santorini. This is *supposed* to be a vacation. We are here, living a quiet life with a few close friends and raising grapes.”

***

Laughter bubbled forth from her throat, not a forced laugh or a painful one, but the sincere easy amusement of a woman comfortable in her life. Indeed, she loved being Aykira Luthor. Yes, the first year of marriage was not without its challenges and surprises, for any newlyweds. However, she and Lex were far from being a normal couple. Oh, they had had disagreements, some quite major, but through communication and determination to make their marriage *work* the disagreements were surmounted.

Running the company with Lex’s behind-the-scenes assistance had taxed her organizational and administrative abilities to the limit. Some of the board members initially were not happy to have Lex’s former ‘secretary’ and now wife sitting in the CEO chair. A few had even tendered their resignations over the matter. It took all of her skills, not a small amount of cajoling, and much patience, but Aykira managed to convince the remaining members to trust her abilities.

The board also had to accept the uncomfortable fact that members of the Superman Foundation would be overseeing the company’s major decisions for the next ten years. Superman’s lawyer Constance Hunter had very high standards which needed to be met in order to keep General Zeitlin, Secretary Cosgrove and the specter of a congressional investigation at bay. But the inconvenience was to be accepted in lieu of living under the microscope of public scandal, media scrutiny and disgrace.

While all this was taking place, Lex helped Franklin Stern in his battle with Gregory Daae. Aykira had a sneaking suspicion he rather enjoyed that particular task.

After all that had taken place prior to their marriage and considering the taxing events of the past eight months, this brief respite from their Metropolis life was enjoyable. In this time of high-technology and video conferencing she could easily run LexCorp from anyplace on the planet.

***

“I want to apologize.”

“Apologize? Whatever for?”

He sighed quietly, “There are so many reasons. For one, begging you to marry me. I...I wouldn’t have had the courage to experience this frightening ordeal alone. For being the corrupt man I once was. In the park on the day of our engagement, you were right to say I had destroyed the dreams of many. There is so little time to right those wrongs. In my personal computer there is a list of persons who have suffered abysmally at my hand. Some who were once quite prosperous have been reduced to the meanest of circumstances...” He shook his head as if to clear away the dark memories than continued.

“None of these persons would accept charity from *anything* connected with me. It must be done covertly.”

A tender hand caressed his shoulder. “Perhaps Constance and the Superman Foundation can be of assistance?”

He nodded his head in silent accord.

“Then the arrangements will be made as soon as dinner is over.”

“Thank you my dear, your discretion is always dependable. Nonetheless, an apology is *still* what you deserve. I should have been a better man, a better friend, rather than dance around our relationship. My greatest error in this life was wasting time with vain pursuits and associating with selfish women who cared nothing for me. Instead of being blinded by greed and ambition I should have been trying to help my fellow man rather than harm them. Aykira, can you ever forgive me? If it had not been for you, my life these past eight months would have been a hollow existence – merely waiting for death.”

“Lex, I assure you were it not for my mission, we might be celebrating our *second* wedding anniversary. There is no reason to apologize. In the back of my mind, I wanted you as much if not more than you wanted me.”

“Are you quite sure?” He asked. His dark eyes cautiously searching hers.

“Positive. Your faults have *always* been an open book to me. Yet I fell in love anyway. My sweet darling, you are the only man for me.” She leaned from the chair and wrapped her loving arms around his shoulders.

***

She sat back and looked at her husband, *really* looked at him. He had changed. Oh, not just the thousand tiny changes that overtake an individual with his particular disease, but he had changed as a person. Becoming kinder, gentler, and even stronger in a way… dare she use the word empathic? Whatever shady dealings he had done prior to discovering the tumor were wrong. There was no dancing around that question. He had built an international business empire, yet had wasted his life on foolish things. No matter how many wrongs Lex would try to correct, those could now only be seen as a ‘deathbed conversion’ and as such are rarely taken seriously.

This realization saddened her, but at the same time it encouraged her to do as much as possible to assist the Superman Foundation and LexCorp to help the people of this Earth reach their potential. Her husband’s legacy was not to be a space station orbiting the planet, but an earthbound corporation utilizing its resources for mankind’s good.

During the course of the next five years she had to locate and groom her successor. No easy task this. It had to be someone with a good level of knowledge and ability tempered by compassion to bring LexCorp safely into the next century.

As for herself, there was no reason to hurry back to her own world, Bern and Alexander had given a full account of her activities in this Earth to the council. Besides, now that S.T.A.R. Labs and Barontech had the new crystals in their possession there would be no repercussions against her.

Yes, she and Lex were free to enjoy their marriage for as long as the tumor in her husband’s brain remained dormant and did not intrude on their lives. She sat close to him and hugged him tight, cherishing every moment of their life together whether on Santorini or in Metropolis. They would both have to be content with that.

“Care to go up to the house? It is getting a little chilly.” Aykira asked.

“Do you mind?” he said touching his cane.

“Of course not, lean on me.”

Aykira stood by Lex’s side and helped him up the ramp towards the villa.

***

“Mom, Dad can you see the gazebo from where you are sitting?”

“Yes, son. Don’t worry about a thing. Does Pete have the ring?”

“Right here Mr. Kent.” The powerfully built man walked over to the Kents and patted his jacket pocket. “Clark warned me to guard it with my life.”

“As well you should, Pete. I’m just wondering what’s keeping the bride. Sam said they were ready to begin over ten minutes ago.” Jonathan said quietly while glancing at his watch.

“Probably the bride’s mother,” Martha responded with a sigh.

At that moment, Uncle Mike walked over to them, a beaming smile on his face. “Hey everybody, I just spoke with Sam, it’s time. So the young fellas need to take their places under the gazebo."

Pete grinned and patted his friend on the back. “This is it Clark. Are you ready to take the plunge?”

Clark looked at his boyhood friend and answered with gentle seriousness. “If Zara, Ching and my cousin Yar-El themselves were to suddenly appear, I wouldn’t let them halt this ceremony. Lois is my wife already, but this ceremony makes it official before God and all these witnesses.”

Jonathan and Martha looked on with pride at the man they had raised, took hands and smiled.

Jimmy walked down the torch lighted path towards the group. “Man, I don’t know about you, Clark, but Lucy’s mother is *difficult*. We only wanted to hear what a rock n’ roll wedding march…”

Martha interrupted the young man’s diatribe. “James, let’s discuss this later. Is Jack minding the music?”

“Yes, Mrs. Kent,” Jimmy nodded, properly chastised.

“Good, now take your place by the French doors just as rehearsed, while the rest of us get to our seats.”

At that moment, gentle classical music filled the air and all conversation ceased as the other guests walked to their chairs. Mike Lane sat down next to Grace Chen, took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Three seats away were George and a glowingly maternal Cat, her pregnancy evident for all to see. A surprisingly dashing and relaxed Bill Henderson and his wife sat behind the Amundsens. Perry and Alice sat next to them, thoroughly pleased this wonderful day or rather, evening had finally arrived.

Several of the bullpen gang were evident as well. Eduardo and Steve hastily sat down with their wives, having come in from the back of the garden. Apparently, Ralph had tried to take pictures of the nuptials and sell them to the National Whisperer. The two men ‘persuaded’ Ralph to hand over his film and then had the police take him away for trespassing on private property.

Diane Pallister was there sitting cozily with her date, stock fraud investigator, Zane Nelson. They had met during the whole Daae/Stern battle and were taking their time getting to know one another.

Dr. Bernard Klein, looking rather uncomfortable in a social setting, stood by the refreshment table, nursing a tall cup of strong black coffee. The absent-minded scientist had come straight from S.T.A.R. Labs after working a twelve-hour shift. He had completely forgotten about the wedding before Lois - knowing him well - had called him with a reminder.

Jack presided over the sound system, and as with all things electronic, the results were outstanding. This event marked a turning point for the young man, after several conversations with the intern Stacy; he planned to attend Metropolis University in the autumn.

Once all the guests had found their seats, the music halted than suddenly changed. Beethoven’s Night Music lilted through the air, the sounds mingling seamlessly with the scents and emotions of the evening.

***

“Care to take a walk with me, princess? It is a lovely night for it.” Sam Lane’s deep voice boomed as he bowed and extended an arm to his oldest child.

Lucy and Lois giggled in front of their father, as they had not since early childhood. Over the past six months, the two women had worked hard rebuilding their relationship with him and their mother. It had not been an easy task, yet the Lane family wounds were definitely healing. Lois thought, <Another gift I owe to Clark, the son of Jonathan and Martha *and* Kal-El, son of Jor-El and Lara.> She thought, giving homage to his extraterrestrial heritage.

Lois curtsied and responded, “Why kind sir, what a capital idea.” She took her father’s arm and stood behind Lucy. “Ok, I’m ready, she said, trying to dismiss the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

Lucy tapped on the French doors and they opened as if by her will alone. She stood just inside the doors to allow the torchlight to awash her in soft illumination, her pretty features, so reminiscent of her father, shone withexcitment. Jimmy’s heart swelled as he beheld the beautiful sight and wondered; if given time and patience might he someday exchange vows with the younger Lane sister?

Head held high and regal, Lucy daintily stepped out of the doorway and took Jimmy’s offered arm. The photographer came into view, took a few shots, and then moved discreetly out of their path. With perfectly timed steps, they made their way down the stone path towards the gazebo covered in white gauze and delicate tea lights, set up just for this occasion.

As soon as Lucy and Jimmy arrived under the gazebo, the music halted, as the guests stood in anticipation of the bride. The lights around the garden were lowered among the guests. Only the footpath and the lights by the French doors remained and intensified.

***

Inside the townhouse, the quiet rumble of Sam Lane’s voice was heard saying gently. “Everyone is waiting. Are you ready to take the first steps to a new life, Princess?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Lois spoke in hushed tones.

Father and daughter stepped over the threshold into the soft nimbus of light, stood for a moment so the photographer could take a few pictures, then moved with serenity towards the gazebo.

Lois heart pounded so loudly she was certain the guests would not need Clark’s super hearing to know how thrilled she was that their special evening had finally arrived. She could not take her eyes off the man who in a few minutes would become her husband. Indeed, in her mind he already was.

***

Clark’s heartbeat was so thunderous and rapid it threatened to burst from his chest. Did a groom ever die from sheer joy? The gown Lois wore fit her perfectly; she looked like a queen. In point of fact the dress was similar to one worn by his maternal grandmother, Lady Polara, when she appeared before them, her image projected from the globe. He remembered vividly how they watched in amazement as the historian talked of life on Krypton during its final days. His fiancé must have memorized it and had a seamstress re-create the gown. He was deeply touched by her consideration of his Kryptonian heritage.

He felt Pete’s light touch on his shoulder, “She looks great, Clark. You are one lucky man!”

Clark nodded. “I know, my friend, I know.”

All other thoughts vanished from his mind as Sam Lane handed his daughter to Clark. Two unique people stood before the officiant to express their love and devotion to one another for now and forever.

Epilogue

Fifty years after

On a clear bright spring night, shafts of moonlight shone down from the heavens onto the rooftops of the great city of Metropolis.  In Nayland Heights, one of the most august and celebrated sections of the city, situated among similar townhouses on Hyperion Avenue, sat a home to a rather unique family.  On this particular evening, that building’s rooms rang with cheerful voices, some young and some old, but all raised in celebration of a very special and much awaited wedding anniversary.  Lois and Clark Kent were entertaining numerous friends and an extensive family as they commemorated the special occasion.

Clark lifted up CJ’s latest grandchild and gently propelled him through the air.  The infant shrieked merrily as he ‘flew’ with Great-Grandpa.  By the fireplace, his daughter Lara sat reading stories to the fourth generation of Kents as her husband looked on.  Her brother Jason was in the kitchen, whipping up one of his famous meals.  Lois smiled contentedly as she observed the family and guests settle into a pleasant evening of good food, sumptuous desserts, games, and stories.

Eventually, the evening festivities died down and the exhausted but happy guests departed; some through the front door, but all three Kent children and their offspring took leave from the garden - their flight covered by darkness and the Italian cypress ever-so-great Grandpa Jonathan had planted long ago.  Clark and his youngest grandson Jon remained downstairs in the living room having a quiet chat before the fireplace.  The young man was about to take up the mantle of Superman and wanted to take advantage of his grandfather’s experience and advice.  Lois stood on tiptoes and kissed Jon good night.  <He looks so much like Clark at that age!> she thought.  Then she excused herself and went upstairs to her study.

***

As she entered the room, the first thing to catch her eye was the beautiful picture of their wedding day perched on the bookshelf.  A more magnificent day she had never known.  <He was so handsome!  I was so nervous!  Honestly, with all the barriers that presented themselves between engagement and wedding, I did not believe we would ever exchange vows!>

Nevertheless, despite all the problems and delays leading up to their special day, every detail had come together flawlessly.  Lying beside the picture was a thick red leather photo album stenciled on the front: Lane/Kent Wedding.

Aged, delicate, but still strong hands picked up the photograph encased in a hand-carved wooden frame and gazed at it lovingly.  She put it back in its place, only to pick up the wedding album.  It had been quite a while since she had last run her fingers over its pages.

Lois sat down on the thick comfortable couch cushions, allowing them to conform perfectly to her derriere.  Sighing inwardly with pleasure, she allowed the familiar sights and scents of her surroundings to relax ancient muscles.

Glancing around the study, Lois Kent remembered the different appearances and uses of this space.  On their wedding day, the room was jammed with gifts and presents from well-wishers and odd items from Lois’ apartment they had not yet been able to locate a proper place for.  Upon return from their delicious honeymoon in Hawaii, it had become a guest room for Clark’s parents.  Two years later happy, expectant parents had transformed it into a nursery for CJ and he kept the room as his own until he went to college.

For a brief span of years, it was once again a guest room as their children often brought friends over for long weekend visits.

As is inevitable with every family, the Kent children moved out, married, and had their own families.

Lois had redecorated the room and turned it into her home office, and upon retirement as Managing Editor of the Daily Planet, it became the focal point of her still-considerable energies to write biographies of famous women such as scientist Madame Curie and courageous American foreign correspondent, Marie Colvin.  Those books were worlds away from her trashy “Wanda Detroit” romance/mystery stories.

***

Jon ran his slender fingers through long night black hair, “I want to do the family proud, Grandpa Clark.  After all, following in yours and Dad’s footsteps *is* a tall order.  There are not nearly as many criminals today as in your time, but the ones who do appear are a little…”

“Intimidating?”  Clark asked.

“Yeah,” the young man agreed with a slight grimace.

“Each era has its own villains; Tempus, the Prankster and Mr. Gadget. Each had to be defeated in a unique way.  Just as your father CJ defeated Chronos and The Prism during his long career.  I had to learn by hard-won trial and error.  You are fortunate having *two* generations of superhero experience to call on and don’t forget your aunt, uncle and cousins.  After all, this is the family business!”  Clark said with a wry grin.

The younger man shook his head in amazement and deference.  “Our family *is* quite unique in that respect.”

“Yes, but never forget, we are only as special as the mental and emotion support we have at home. Without Mom and Dad’s love and guidance, being Superman would have been extremely lonely.”

“Not to mention a little bit of assistance from Grandma Lois.”  Jon said with a broad smile.

Clark’s face crinkled into that magnificent smile he reserved for his wife and partner.  “*That*, young man, goes without saying.”

“Good night, Grandpa Clark.  Thanks for the great advice.”  Jon stood.

“Anytime, remember the door is always open,” his grandfather said in a voice cloaked in pride.  Together they walked to the French doors, shook hands, and then swiftly, with ease borne of practice, Jon lifted into the inky starlit night sky, waved his hand once and then vanished.

Clark stepped through the French doors, listened intently to the bones of the house as its ancient beams, and stone facade settled down for the night.  The day had been filled with lovable family noises; now all he wanted to do now was sit beside Lois and soak up a little quiet time with his best friend and partner.  He walked easily across the room with the assured movements of a younger man, reached the staircase, and called out, “Hey Lois!”

“In my study, Clark,” she answered.

***

A slight breeze caressed her face as her husband entered the study at super speed and took a seat by her side.

“How did the conversation with Jon go?”  She looked up at Clark, patiently awaiting his answer.

She watched as he snuggled up to her on the plush couch. “Very well, Jon is eager to prove himself as he takes on the Superman mantle.  He will make mistakes and each one shall tear at his heart, but he’ll learn.”

“Just as you did, and for a brief time, just as I did - as UltraWoman.  Being a super hero is not for the faint of heart.”  Lois smiled thoughtfully, thinking about her grandson and the challenges he would soon face.

***

Clark, sensing the atmosphere was getting a little overwrought said, “You know, this couch is really comfortable, but not as memorable as those stiff settees we used to write our investigative stories on in your old apartment.  They hurt my butt!”

“Hey!”  She answered, laughing. “I used to like those settees… and since when does an invulnerable man feel pain?”

“They were very uncomfortable!” Her husband responded in self-defense.

“Yeah, but we broke a lot of great stories on those things… no matter how uncomfortable they were,” she countered.  “Not to mention three Kerth awards for me!”

“I, for one, am very glad they went to your sister’s new apartment and not this townhouse.”

“Well, Lucy did need furniture,” she smiled.

“I’m glad you came to the house.  Pepper and I got lonely rattling around in this place by ourselves.”

“Oh, don’t mention the little furball.  It’s been years, but I still miss him terribly.”  She suddenly switched the subject and asked in a low voice.  “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Of course!  I love it when we all get together.  The grands get a little rambunctious, but that’s a big part of family life.  You know, the part that makes *being* a family so wonderful,” Clark said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

Lois face took on a bemused expression.  “I don’t remember you being so easygoing when the kids were teething.”

Her husband put up his hands in a gesture of surrender.  “Guilty as charged! I see you came up to look over the wedding album?”

“Yeah, it has been awhile.”

The Kent family and a good number of close friends had been celebrating Lois and Clark’s fiftieth wedding anniversary.  Not surprisingly, Lois was feeling particularly nostalgic and as each delicate page of the album came under her fingertips; decades seemed to not only roll backwards, but forwards as well.  As joyful faces of the wedding guests looked up from the pages, so many were no longer with them; Perry and dear Alice were both gone, a mere ten and five years respectively after these photographs were taken.  Following Perry’s death, it was on the behest of Franklin Stern’s son that she had become the Managing Editor of the Daily Planet.

Both her parents and Clark’s had also passed away, but happily not before they had had a chance to hold their grandchildren.  She and Clark missed their presence deeply.  Not a month had passed since than that either she or Clark reflected on some bit of wisdom or gentle saying.  Martha and Jonathan Kent might be gone, but all the memories of their loving support and wisdom came shining through the grief.

More pages passed under her fingertips, photos of Bill Henderson, Eduardo and so many others, all of whom had succumbed to the storms of time.

Michael Lane married Grace Chen six months after Lois and Clark’s wedding.  The older couple had gone to Italy telling everyone they were participating in the annual wine tasting festival at Villa Bocelli. The villa is quietly nestled within an organic farm estate, set in the picturesque hills of Umbria on the border to Tuscany. Both of them had been married before. Each having experienced the joys – and headaches - of a large family wedding, it was their determination to exchange vows in a quiet, private ceremony. Upon returning from their honeymoon, Sam Lane made it a point to throw them an intimate reception in the banquet room of Arabella’s.

The quick marriage came as no surprise to anyone who knew Mike Lane; he had been smitten by his gentle business neighbor for years.  However, once he had asked her to accompany him to his niece’s wedding, their own romance blossomed swiftly to its happy conclusion.

Uncle Mike had continued to give Lois cooking lessons long after his niece had mastered the art of doing more than just boiling water.  The family gatherings planned around those ‘lessons’ were some of the most memorable in the townhouse on Hyperion Avenue.

Grace knitted lovely afghans for each of the Kent offspring and managed, not without some doing, to teach Lois how to knit. Somehow the intrepid reporter, wife and mother of three managed the delicate art without too much trouble. Despite occasional grumbling, Lois grew to love all the challenges and joys of the domestic side of her life

But now, sadly, Mike, with his twinkling eyes and gentle humor was gone as well as his wife.

***

Clark, sensing his wife’s thoughts, decided it was time to ‘lighten the mood’.  “I’m so glad not all of our wedding guests have passed away; Cat and George still visit Metropolis several times a year to catch up and for George to spend time with ‘his egghead scientist friends’, as Cat would put it.  Oh yeah, let’s not forget Jimmy and Lucy!  These candid pictures are a hoot!” Clark continued, as he looked at a shot of them dancing the twist.  “It was great to be best man at their wedding.” He noticed the watery smile tugging at his wife’s lips and stopped talking.

***

“Yeah, it only took *four* years before they got married.  Lucy really had a hard time explaining to Mother and Daddy that they wanted to establish their separate careers without distractions before getting married.  I certainly appreciate such wisdom, after all, hadn’t I developed a successful journalistic career *before* a certain dark-haired young reporter appeared in the newsroom?”

“But your Dad was funny when he said ‘It’s about time they got engaged, otherwise I might be too old to walk her down the aisle.’  Somehow, that argument just did not hold up, especially since Sam was the first one on the dance floor and the last one off at the reception."

Lois squeezed Clark’s hand, gazing into those dark brown eyes and drawing strength from their depths of wisdom.  How grateful she was to have reconciled with her parents.  Images flashed in her mind of Sam and Ellen playing with their grandchildren - happily spending the last years of their lives as respected senior members of a close-knit family, not as strangers who happened to share the same name.

Another gift she owed her husband.

She emerged slowly out of her contemplative thoughts and flipped another page which brought them to several photos of Jack Verne, working the sound system while he masterfully performed his duties as DJ at the wedding.  “It is still hard to believe the brash young man who had broken into your apartment and stole the globe would someday become Constance Hunter’s successor to helming the Superman Foundation.”  She laughed.

“Jack has been very fortunate, even in his choice of wife.  Stacy is perfect for him, after all these years. It still surprises me she did not remain with the Daily Planet after college,” Clark said, picking up the conversational ball.

“She made a good career move to work for Earth Magazine.  It gave her time to write, then polish up her novel.  After all, that was her dream.  Imagine, she actually won a Pulitzer Prize for it. Who knew life on a small ranch in Wyoming at the turn of the 20th century could be so compelling?”  Lois smiled, shaking her head.

She had re-read the insightful novel recently and could not help but be pleased to know she had had a hand in nurturing such a tender lyrical writing style.

Clark started flipping through the pages.  “The missing photographs of the people who did not attend, such as Aykira and Lex Luthor, Dr. Emil Hamilton and Molly Flynn always sadden me.  Seeing their faces would have made the reception more complete.”

“Yeah, but Farmboy, we couldn’t invite everybody!  Maybe it was for the best they declined the invitation, especially since Lex was in desperate need of a rest.”  She recalled the couple had flown to their villa on the island of Santorini.  However, Lois knew better and she understood the real reason why.  Their relationship with Lex and Aykira as a couple was not an easy one, despite Lex’s resolve to change.  They had never moved beyond acquaintances.  Still, she had to admit because of Lex’s actions combined with Franklin Stern’s determination, the Daily Planet survived another twenty years as the leading hard copy newspaper in the world.  She always lamented the loss of its hardcopy. Instead of being printed on paper the ‘newspaper’ was available exclusively on the internet.

Sad.  There was something of intrinsic value about picking up a newspaper in the morning, feeling the coarse texture of paper in your hands, inhaling new ink and working a crossword puzzle with freshly sharpened number 2 pencils,  ruffling the stiff pages while imbibing a low-fat mocha and nibbling on a warm chocolate croissant… flown in fresh from Paris.  Both she and Clark had tried reading the news while leaning over a hard flat screen monitor. Unfortunately something was lost in the experience.

She also thought about the global events that seemed to have resonated after their wedding.

The use of Harmonic Crystals was rapidly embraced by every nation on the planet.  Their existence had been acknowledged and utilized by her children as the internet had been by her generation.

With the advent of crystal technology, humanity had stepped out to explore beyond the blue sphere known as Earth.  Numerous satellites and space platforms ringed the planet; flights to Mars colony were now routine.  Her great grandson, Joel, was on the first mission to Europa one of Jupiter’s moons.

As humanity exploded into the solar system like champagne flowing from a bottle, so they had come to realize the serious importance of being the Earth’s stewards.  Humanity as a whole had begun to take greater care of its environment and inhabitants.  Through the efforts of the Superman Foundation and LexCorp, the effects of years of pollution and neglect were turned backwards; deserts had been reclaimed through skillful irrigation techniques and turned into lush, verdant farmland, oceans were once again teeming with life and through it all, there had been Superman and his descendants, who were always willing to help wherever needed.

Dear Dr. Klein had made an amazing breakthrough in the fight against cancer.  Because of that success, many were able to live and realize their full potential.

Although Lois had not been there for the first part of Lex’s illness, she did contact Aykira a few months after her wedding and the two women made it a point to have lunch together every few weeks.  In time, those brief get-togethers built the foundation for a warm, enduring friendship.  Lois was happy to say when Lex died, she provided a firm shoulder for his widow to lean upon.  In order to cope with her loss, Aykira immersed herself with work. Under her careful guidance LexCorp had turned its mission statement around and now the corporation was a force for good.  The mysterious Mrs. Luthor eventually returned to her own world five years after Lex’s death, and Lois sorely missed her friend, but wished her well.

So many changes…

Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Clark clearing his throat.  “Uh, Earth to Lois Kent!”

Lois looked up, guessed his meaning, and smiled.  “Oh no, I’m fine.  This has been a fantastic day.  Looking over our wedding album and indulging in some very happy memories got me a little misty-eyed, that’s all.  Oh Clark, has it really been fifty years?”  She extended her hand to him.

He took the offered hand and snuggled beside her on the couch.  “Yes, I’m afraid it has, but honey, I have loved every minute of it,” he said, his voice a gentle rumble.

“I’m so glad we travelled this road together.  Imagine, of all the people… strangers on this planet, we found each other.  Who could have thought it all those years ago?”  Lois looked off into the distance, as a quiet expression of contentment played on her lips.

“Well, Mrs. Kent, I’m all for us staying on this road… wherever it leads ... for another fifty years.”

She moved in closer, laying her head on his broad chest.  The roaring passionate fires of youth had died down years before, but there was still a strong ardor between them that was rarely denied.  She ran her fingers over his chest and whispered.  “No matter what road I’m on, no matter how many strangers surround me, *we* will always find our way to each other.”

***

Clark gazed lovingly into those incredible brown eyes and saw so many facets of the woman he loved; reporter, friend, daughter, but most of all he beheld his partner, wife, lover and mother of his children. Yet above all these things, the woman beside him was his best friend and complement. Without Lois there would be no Clark… no Superman.

“I love you, Lois, now and always.” He bent over, caressed her cheek, and then sweetly kissed her.

“I love you, Clark, forever.”  His wife responded with a kiss of her own, sighing with contentment and deep satisfaction only she could know.

THE END

The following story –

“Terrible Teen Paranormal Romance Story: L&C Style”

by – AnnieB

was Nominated in the:

Best New Author

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Terrible Teen Paranormal Romance Story: L&C Style

By Annie B <anneblair1976@yahoo.com>

Rated: PG

Submitted: November 2013

Summary: This story was created using a Mad Libs-style story generator called the *Awful Teen Paranormal Romance Generator*. I think the generator was originally created to make fun of Twilight, but it works for any fandom.

***

Lois knew Clark was different from the other boys at school.

She noticed it the very first time she laid eyes on him – there was something about the way he happily jumped his Hand when he caught. Also, he seemed to have an unusual knowledge about journalism. And just last Tuesday after Cloning, she saw him x-ray shoulders.

There was something else she knew: she was in love with him. But she didn't know how to win his affections, for he was always cold and distant.

One night, Lois was reading a newspaper about paranormal creatures when she realized the truth: Clark was a Alien!

The next day after class, Lois saw Clark head off into the Daily Planet. "It's now or never," she told herself with resignation and flew after him.

When she caught up to him, he was standing behind a skyscraper.

"Clark, it's me, Lois. I... I have to tell you something... I love you!"

He sighed deeply and tip-toed toward her. "Oh, Lois, there are things you don't understand about me."

"I know more than you think," she breathed. "I know that you're an Alien."

"It's more complicated than that," he said, staring into her dark eyes. "Love between your kind and mine is forbidden. They would destroy us both if they knew."

"I don't care," Lois said. "I could never live without you."

"Really?"

"Truly," she answered.

He reached up and gently caressed her Foot in his light hands. "I love you, too," he whispered.

And then he kissed her. His kisses were like Kryptonite-scented Double Fudge Crunch Bars upon her lips.

The days and weeks that followed were amazing. They went flying, investigated Luthor, and went to jail. It seemed that nothing could come between them.

One night while playing poker, a bang was heard from outside the stairwell window. "They've found us," Clark whispered solemnly.

Lois sighed. "At least we've had this short time together."

"I won't let them take you from me," he promised.

As soon as he spoke, the enemy's leader burst through the door. "Stand aside!" the leader ordered Clark.

"Never! She is my true love, and you will not take her from me!" Clark stood defiantly between Lois and the leader.

"Then you will both die!"

The leader lunged forward, but Clark stood his ground. With a says, he met the leader head-on. In a swift move, Clark ripped off the leader's Ear and kicked him in the Mouth. Mortally wounded, the leader gasped and died.

Seeing their mighty leader fall to Clark's strength, his underlings panicked and ran away, disappearing into the night.

"That was amazing," Lois breathed.

Clark leaned down and gently brushed his lips against hers, his Kryptonite-scented breath caressing her cheek. "Your love for me gave me the strength I needed. Now everything is perfect."

"Almost perfect..."

"Almost?"

"Everything would be perfect if you made me like you. I know you can do it."

"Are you sure? If I did this, you'd never be able to put on a tie again."

"I'm sure," she breathed.

Clark flew Lois's Eye, allowing his very essence to flow into her body. She sighed then exclaimed.

Soon the transformation was complete. Lois was now an incredible Alien, just like Clark. Everything truly was perfect.

THE END

And don’t miss her major work – Panem now being posted.

The following story –

“The Dinner Party”

by – Mouserocks

was Nominated in the:

Best First Kiss

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

The Dinner Party

By Mouserocks <mouserocksnerd@gmail.com>

Rated PG

Submitted May 2013

Summary: Lois is nervous about going over to Clark's apartment for a dinner. Will she be pleasantly surprised or end up in an emotional freefall? Don't worry, this is for Virginia's 2013 May WAFFy Challenge, so get ready for fluff.

***

Lois stood outside his front door, bottom lip caught between her teeth in apprehension. Sure, she knew him just fine-- he had rescued her-- and they worked together now, but still... Going to his place? For a dinner-- with no other pretense of a story or anything? It was a little frightening.

Of course, she wouldn't be alone. Perry and Alice had promised to be there-- in fact, they were the ones who set it all up. Mr. Olsen would be coming too, along with a few others who she'd been told were invited. Of course, Clark was quick to offer his place as a location, and Lois had agreed, if only a little begrudgingly.

The fact that she was a hopeless cook and would likely be facing another night of takeout food may have helped sway her decision. His charming smile might have had another part in it.

Lois took a deep breath and ran her hand through her hair. She checked her watch one last time-- seven-fifteen. Appropriately late. No more stalling. She'd just have to knock and get this over with.

Before she could stop herself, Lois rapped sharply against the door five times.

The door swung open too quickly for Lois' liking, and there he was. Clark Kent stood before her, smiling warmly and setting off those strange little flutters in her stomach. His smile widened upon seeing her and her stomach *really* flipped, like she was being dropped from some really high place.

"Hi," she tried not to squeak. Okay, so maybe she was a tiny bit attracted to him, but that had to be where it ended. She wasn't ready for anything more anyway. *Get yourself together, Lane. You don't even know him that well yet.*

"Hey," he replied easily. "Come on in." He held his arm out to guide her inside and she shyly followed. This was the first time she'd ever been to his apartment on a non-work pretext, and even then she'd only seen it a few times. For someone who seemed to be in the public a lot, he was actually quite a private person.

It was quite a nice apartment, though it was decorated a bit like a bachelor pad in some of its elements. Of course, nothing had changed about the place since she'd last been there-- there was still the nice hardwood flooring, the trinkets from all over the world, the same paintjob and furnishings. But the atmosphere was different tonight somehow, more cozy or perhaps even intimate. She didn't know why she felt that way, but the vibe was definitely there. There was, however, one noticeable thing missing, something that made Lois a little bit wary.

"Where is everybody?"

Clark stood next to her at the top of the landing and frowned. "Oh, I guess Perry and Alice must have forgotten to mention it to you. They can't make it. Something about Alice's back and Perry having too much to do at the office."

*The rats!* Lois thought, trying to stave off the tendrils of panic that were slowly creeping their way around her heart. She knew what they were up to. Those stinking rats knew exactly what they were doing to her, putting her in a situation like this. Perry knew that she had a little thing for Clark, and Lois knew that they had been pressuring her to get back out there ever since she'd returned. But it had only been six months and they didn't know how completely unready she was to take such a step like that-- especially with a man she worked with. She uneasily tuned back into what Clark was saying.

"--But I figure that mayor is a big job, so I get it. Mr. Olsen and his latest lady of the hour should be getting here pretty soon, I take it."

*Oh, god,* Lois thought, the wave of panic surging up through her again. This was going to be awkward, then. So very, very awkward. "But I barely know Mr. Olsen. I don't want it to be weird." Her tone had a cautious lilt to it, as if trying to give him a hint, get him to catch on.

Apparently, though, Clark was too dense to pick up on her signals there. He just grinned. "You know him. Maybe not well, but you know him. And besides, you've always got me. It'll be fine, you'll see." He strode forward confidently through his apartment to his kitchen. "I'm making a spicy, four cheese chicken rigatoni for dinner. You do like Italian, don't you? Perry said that you did."

It was funny to see how anxious he suddenly got over what her opinion on the meal was all of the sudden. Lois bit her cheek to keep from smiling like a dork. "Yeah, I like pasta."

Relief washed over his features and he returned to the pots and pans he was attending in the kitchen. Lois started to feel weird standing by herself in the middle of his apartment, so despite the curse she normally brought to the kitchen, she followed him. She watched, mesmerized, as he pored over his recipe, adding the appropriate spices and measurements when needed. It was like a whole other world to Lois.

"So," she began when it looked like he wasn't too intensely focused, "if you can just, you know," she swooped her arm, "whenever you want, then why not just go and get some Italian food from Italy or something?"

Clark froze momentarily and stiffened. "Would you rather me go and do that? I can, you know. If you want me to. I just--"

"No, no!" The last thing Lois wanted was to make her host feel bad about the meal. Especially when Clark was the host. "That's not what I'm saying. I think this sounds great. I was just curious. I personally hate cooking, so if I had your powers-- Superman's powers, that is--" she corrected herself upon seeing his shoulders tense up. It was funny how nervous he got whenever someone referenced his abilities. "I would eat out every meal of every day. You wouldn't even have to be restricted to the same restaurant choices!"

"I like cooking," Clark admitted. "I don't know too many recipes, though. But mostly, I like to keep Superman kind of separate from myself."

"But why?" Lois asked, curiosity piqued. "If you don't mind my asking. If everyone knows that Clark Kent is Superman already, why bother to hide it?"

"I'm still a very private person, Lois. It's how I was raised. My parents, the Kents, taught me from a very young age that I had to hide my powers in order to have a safe life of my own. Foster care only reinforced that idea. The only other person who knew before also demanded that I hide it. It's just been conditioned into me. Besides which, I don't want anybody to think I sponsor them or something."

"So fly out as Superman, change clothes, get what you want and get back out of there."

Clark cracked a grin at her forwardness. Lois seemed to realize it herself and blushed in the same moment. "Sorry. I come on a bit strong," she confessed. "I guess being cooped up in a bad situation in a foreign country will do that to you."

Clark laughed. "Somehow, I get the feeling that you'd have been that way no matter what." Lois would have gotten mad at that remark if it weren't for the spark in his eyes as said it. She fought another blush at that thought. *Why the hell am I blushing so much?*

"To finish answering your first question," Clark continued, turning back to the stove, "I also am very careful about what I eat. Eating out, you don't always know what you're getting. It's either high calorie or too sugary or what have you. Maybe it's the farmboy in me, but I like to know where my food comes from."

Something about that comment rang in Lois' mind, a little alarm bell of worry niggling at the back of her conscience. She frowned. "Wait. Does that mean..." she trailed off, the thought too ridiculous to complete.

Clark looked at her sidelong. "Does that mean what?"

Lois continued, eyeing him cautiously. "Are we going to be having dessert tonight then?"

Clark seemed amused by her highly serious inquiry. "I asked Jimmy if he could bring something by. Otherwise, no."

Lois appeared horrified.

Clark gave her a strange look. "Should I have planned something else?"

"No, that's fine. It's just... how can you go without dessert?"

Clark laughed and her eyes widened even more. "Well, I'll eat dessert sometimes. Mostly ice cream, but not much other than that."

Lois breathed a sigh of relief, unaware how long she'd been holding her breath. "Okay, good. I can work with ice cream. Especially chocolate ice cream. As long as you're not some lunatic who doesn't like chocolate either."

Clark opened his mouth but didn't respond right away. Lois' jaw dropped. "No! I mean, yes, I like chocolate just fine. It's just not my favorite, either. I can eat unhealthy, Lois. I mean, I imagine that if I wanted, I could eat whatever I wanted and never impact my health whatsoever. Like I said, it's just another habit. It's not that I don't like those things, but foster care really got those cravings and such out of me."

Well, when put that way, Lois supposed she could forgive it. He didn't know any better. That was fine. She'd just have to teach him a little bit about the world of junk food.

"Okay, you're forgiven. But you're going to have to learn my ways." Clark grinned at her and she smugly stared back.

"A year and a half in the Congo didn't get the craving out of you?"

"Are you kidding? I got back and I've never craved anything more!"

Clark laughed, glad she was finally comfortable talking and joking about it now. She had been quite wary for quite a long time-- and still was very skittish at times. It had taken a significant amount of time convincing her that she could even trust the man who rescued her as a colleague and friend. Only now, six months later, was she finally getting comfortable with the idea of being closer friends. He only hoped that his longing for such closeness didn't end up scaring her off. Clark really did try his best to be as patient as possible with her, knowing she needed time to adjust, time to get to know him, to re-assimilate herself. And for the most part, he felt like he was doing a good job. But sometimes, it just couldn't be helped. If she told a joke, or participated in his flirty banter, he couldn't help but smile his warmest smile at her. If she had a hunch or tantalizing lead, he couldn't help but follow her headlong into the danger-- no matter how hair brained her scheme might be. And sometimes, when she was just sitting across the newsroom, he couldn't help but stare dreamily.

Sometimes Lois noticed. At first, she had been extremely put off by it, secluded herself more. That was the reason Clark had made these rules for himself in the first place. But as time wore on, and she grew more accustomed to him, she went from all suspicious glares and furtive glances to eye rolls and shy smiles. Clark's heart really soared whenever a blush stained her cheeks.

Little did Clark know that, despite her embarrassment, Lois liked it.

Their laughter and conversation hit a natural lull that dissolved into silence. Thankfully, a knock came on the door before it could cross over into the land of uncomfortable.

Clark grinned. "I assume that's James." He rinsed his hands and dried them before handing Lois the spoon. "You mind stirring this for a minute?"

Clark obviously must have missed the look of sheer terror that passed across Lois' face as he handed her the utensil. Regardless, he was gone in an instant, and suddenly Lois found herself alone with one boiling pot of noodles and one simmering pan of sauce. She heard the door open and Clark's voice rang out to greet the new guests. She took a deep breath as the familiar voices began to converse easily and accepted that she had to be in charge for a few minutes.

Okay. She could handle this. She could. It was simple. Lois stuck the wooden spoon into the sauce pan, hoping against hope that it hadn't burned already. She stirred it in a circular fashion, trying to keep it from sloshing over the sides, intent on not screwing this up.

Suddenly there were bubbles and foam pouring over the top of the pot of cooking pasta noodles. Biting back a mild curse, she hastened to turn down the heat and blew on it, trying to get it back under control.

Then there was a loud beeping noise coming from somewhere in the kitchen. Lois couldn't identify it. *How did this happen so quickly?* On the verge of panic and ruining the dinner Clark had worked so hard on creating, she did the only thing she could do-- even though it still went against everything in her being to call for a man, especially after her capture in the Congo.

"Clark! Help!!"

He was at her side in less than a second. Quickly assessing the damage done, he pulled the chicken out of the oven, turned off the timer, and checked on both the pasta and sauce. Satisfied that she hadn't been hurt and their dinner had come out unscathed, Clark smiled at her. "Sorry. Forgot Perry's rule about not leaving you in a kitchen."

Lois wasn't sure whether to be amused or irritated by that, but let out a small chuckle anyways as she handed over the spoon-- and with it, the control.

"Lois?" a familiar but still somehow strange voice called out to her. "Lois Lane?"

Curiously, Lois stepped back out into the living room to greet the guests and make the necessary introductions. When she saw who it was that had been calling her, Lois felt her jaw drop open. "Cat Grant?"

Cat grinned and stalked over to her old colleague. "Lois!" She quickly enveloped her in a giant hug, to which Lois smiled and returned it. "I didn't know you'd be here!"

"Me neither! Clark didn't mention ever having worked with you! Clark," she called back over her shoulder to the hero manning the kitchen.

"That's because we didn't," Cat answered easily. "After you went to the Congo, and then didn't come back for a while, I left the Planet. I saw what that story did to you. And I'm not saying that I thought life in the society column was dangerous--"

"Except for the men involved," Lois teased and Cat rolled her eyes.

"But," she continued, "It did get me thinking about what I really wanted to do with my life. So, I gave Perry my notice, got a job at a magazine, and now I'm an editor for Met Weekly."

Lois was surprised. She hadn't thought about the impact her disappearance might have had on the people in the office like Cat. Actually, come to think of it, she hadn't even asked. She'd briefly wondered about some of the different faces, asked Perry or Clark about them once, but she hadn't let it bother her much besides that. "Wow. Good for you, Cat."

"Yeah," she smiled at Mr. Olsen, who stood slightly behind but at her side. Lois realized suddenly that they were a thing and gave the owner of the Daily Planet a small smile. She still didn't know him very well-- she was at least thankful for Cat's presence in that she would be a familiar face. Cat changed the subject before she could really ask about their relationship, though. "So, what on earth were you doing in the kitchen? Should I be concerned for my health?"

Lois was about to defend herself when she heard a chuckle coming from behind her. "Nope. It was a near miss, but Superman saved the day."

Lois rolled her eyes at Clark and everyone else chuckled lightly at his humor. "That's not funny, Clark. I had everything under control."

"Lois, I left you there for maybe a minute, and you were calling for help before I even had a chance to properly greet my guests."

She flushed slightly. "You should have known better."

Cat giggled. "So I guess not much has changed on that front."

Clark grinned. "Sorry. Cat, right? Got cut a little short before."

"Yeah. And... Superman?"

It was Clark's turn to blush. "Um, yeah."

"Damn. Maybe I should have stuck around a little longer at the Planet. Things could have gotten interesting." She grinned salaciously. Clark was flustered, choking on his own surprise.

Lois laughed loudly. "And I see not much has changed on that front, either."

"Well, hey, a girl's got a reputation to uphold."

"Hey! I'm right here, guys," James complained.

"I know, honey. We're just joking," Cat soothed, running a hand down his arm.

Lois arched an eyebrow at her friend's reaction before shaking it off with a smile. "I really missed you, Cat."

Her auburn haired friend almost teared up a moment before regaining her composure and smiling back. "Me too, Lo."

A short silence settled over them at the reunion. Clark finally spoke up. "Well, uh, I hate to be the one to ruin the moment, but dinner's ready if you guys are. I don't think anyone else is gonna make it."

Another spike of fear struck Lois. She didn't want this to come off as a double date. She still barely knew Clark. She liked him and all-- a lot more than she probably should have. And to be perfectly candid, if he asked her out on a date, she didn't think she would refuse. But she was still holding onto her fear. It was all she had left. The world beyond that was still quite unfathomable to her.

But she brushed it off. She had to. She smiled and nodded, following the group to the dinner table. It wasn't a date, no one would assume it was, the only problem here was her own paranoia. And she wanted to get rid of it. So tonight would be about exactly that-- tearing down her walls. It was just food with friends.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere became more and more comfortable. Lois relaxed, everyone was relaxed. They complimented Clark on the food, laughed, told jokes. Clark talked a bit about what Superman's life had been like lately, then about their new stories and work at the Planet. Lois spoke briefly about what had happened to her in the Congo, for Cat's sake-- how she had gotten lost, stumbled into some dangerous territory, and kidnapped. They had held her hostage for nearly two years, at first to ensure that she had no information about them and wasn't some kind of spy. Then they did it to scare her, and then... then they'd just grown accustomed to her presence. It made her sick to think about still, when the things they had done to her, put her through arose in her mind or haunted her dreams.

Clark was good about that. He could see it her eyes when something from her past had started to bother her, and discreetly drew her attention to something else, told a joke, did something to get her mind off of it. He did that tonight, once he could tell that she had just about exhausted herself of the story, and that another moment of discussion would break her. Lois was grateful. Clark had seen her at her worst, offered her comfort, and as far as she could tell, was still somewhat interested in her. She didn't know why or how, but he did and that thought made her heart flip again and that stupid grin tried to resurface once again on her face.

Finally, after a long winded argument about what they should do next, Lois settled the debate. "Pictionary?"

Something sparked in Clark's eyes as he smiled. "That sounds like a great idea, Lois."

James and Cat agreed. "So, do we play teams? What are the rules gonna be?"

"Lois and I can be a team, and then you and James could be a team, and one point to each team who guesses correctly. Losers go get dessert?"

Cat narrowed her eyes at him. He spoke too quickly for that to have just come from the top of his head, but she played along anyways. "All right. You've got yourself a game, Kent. Get some paper."

Clark sped out of the room and reappeared in a moment with two notepads, some pencils and a grin cracked across his face.

Twenty minutes later, once each team had come up with a significant amount of words for their list, they began. Cat drew a stick figure walking a dog, which James had figured out but didn't get in time. Lois drew the Superman crest, which Clark had gotten right off the bat. James ended up not even knowing how to draw his clue, wasting most of his time and then ending up drawing a big square.

Lois was laughing. "The word was movies! You didn't think to draw like a film reel or something?"

James shrugged. "Hey, I 'm a computer guy, not an artist. Never claimed to be."

When Clark's turn finally came around, he had to fight to keep the grin off his face. As Cat flipped the timer over, Clark sat there for several long moments, pretending to think, with Lois yelling at him to hurry up and draw something. Once the timer looked like it had about ten seconds left to go, he started drawing at super speed, watching the jaws drop on his friend's faces and he flipped the notepad over to show Lois.

Lois shook herself from her shock and finally spoke. "Wow. A T-Rex? Tyrrannosaurus Rex!"

Clark's face was comical as his eyes widened and his smile disappeared faster than a speeding bullet. Lois was confused. "What? That's what it is!"

"Aaaand time!" Cat called out, a grin splitting her face. "Ha! No points for you!"

Clark hung his head with a groan while Lois protested loudly. "What? Look at that picture! Firstly, it's amazing-- I had no idea you could draw like that, Clark. And secondly, how on earth is that not a T-Rex? That's as accurate a drawing as I can imagine!"

"The word was 'dinosaur,' Lois," Cat grinned. "T-Rex is too specific. Clark got too cocky. Serves him right. I was gonna say that was cheating, but..."

"Leave it to the magazine editor to edit my copy," she grumbled. "Clark, don't get cocky next time, and we'll have it in the bag."

Clark quickly overcame his disappointment and beamed at her. "No problem."

"Hey! No, no, no! We're done with Pictionary. Now that I know you can do that, I'm never playing with you again. What about cards, or charades or something?"

Clark sighed good-naturedly and rose from the couch. "You guys decide. I said losers go and get dessert, and I think I automatically failed us on that round, so I'll be back in a flash."

He got back several minutes later with chocolate ice cream and a bunch of toppings, Lois flushing slightly on realizing he had indeed gotten her favorite.

The night went on in similar fashion. They talked, flirted, laughed, played games, ate ice cream. It was such an easy, relaxed atmosphere. Time got away from them until James Olsen checked his watch and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"Oh, wow. It's getting pretty late."

Lois tore her eyes away from Clark's face to her boss' and frowned. "Really? What time is it?"

"Past Eleven thirty. We'd better get going if any of us are gonna get to work tomorrow."

Clark and Lois groaned in sync, prompting Clark to smile warmly at her with that twinkle in his eyes. Lois felt that warmth flutter in her stomach for possibly the millionth time that night and smiled right back. They held each other's gazes for a little bit longer than was normally appropriate. James and Cat shared a glance and the man cleared his throat subtly, effectively breaking the spell. "Well, we should head out."

Clark looked at his friend and boss and gave him a quick grin. "Right. Yeah."

As they stood and began collecting their things, Cat took Lois by the wrist gently, drawing her attention. "Hey," she kept her voice low and one eye on the men chatting by the door. "He's good for you. You're good for each other." Her expression was encouraging her to try to see what she was getting at without having to come straight out and say it.

Lois opened her mouth to protest but at seeing the sincerity sparkling in Cat's eyes she held back and gave her a shy smile. "I... I think so too."

Cat grinned. "Keep in touch, okay?" Lois nodded and the two shared a quick embrace.

"Ready?" James called out to his girlfriend softly.

"Yep," she replied and made her way up the landing to the door. "Clark, it was nice meeting you. Thanks for inviting us."

"The pleasure was all mine. Hope to see you again soon."

"Yeah. Maybe I'll stop by the Planet sometime."

James shook Clark's hand and after they bid their final adieus, they left. As Clark closed the door, Lois began to gather her own things and made her way up the landing to him. "I should probably go too. It is pretty late."

"No!" At Lois' arched brow, he realized his slip and hastened to backpedal. "I, uh, I just mean... I don't want to rush you out or anything. Feel free to stay a little bit longer if you want." He really hoped he didn't sound as desperate as he felt, but he really wasn't ready for this night to end. "Besides, it's only..." his shoulders slumped as he read his watch face. "Eleven fifty."

Lois gave a light little laugh that kept his spirits from sinking too low. She thought it was cute, really, how flustered he got. It was empowering.

The conversation had reached an obvious lull, a tense but comfortable silence that neither wanted to break, though both knew it was inevitable.

*Come on, Lane,* she goaded herself. *Get a grip on yourself. You've told him goodbye before. You told him earlier today, you tell him every day. You can do this. You'll still see him tomorrow.* "I had a really great time tonight."

Clark grinned easily. "Me too. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Yeah. It was a lot of fun. And it was really nice to see Cat again. I never thought I'd say that, once upon a time, but it was."

"I liked her just fine," Clark replied, leaning against the wall with his arms over his chest, that easy grin never leaving his face, teasing her.

"Yeah, well you only met New Cat. Old Cat would have probably been too much for even Superman to handle," she teased right back. "I do wish Perry and Alice had made it, though."

"Yeah. They missed out on Pictionary."

His tone was at once both teasing and self-deprecating. Lois gave him a little nudge with her elbow. "Yeah, but that's okay. I think I've found the perfect pictionary partner for now on." Once the words had left her mouth, Lois felt the awkwardness of them. She tried to just blaze on anyway. "You're drawing skills really are quite impressive."

Clark blushed and smiled modestly. "It's really the speed that gets it best. Though the memory helps too."

"Well, either way it's a nice perk." They laughed, though Clark's seemed half-hearted. Lois caught the look that flashed through his eyes and immediately tried to backtrack. "I didn't mean it like that; I know you're more than just Superman."

"No, no, I know what you meant. That's just my own issue. Sorry." Lois gave him a small smile. The conversation began slipping into that awkward silence again and Clark quickly spoke up and changed the topic, keeping it light and, mostly, keeping it going. "So, how are the fish doing?"

Lois beamed. "Good! They're really good. They're still new enough that I don't forget to feed them, so that's good. It's funny. I didn't even think I'd missed them until I got back and they were gone."

It was Clark's turn to grin. "You're welcome."

"I didn't say thank you," she spoke, keeping up the teasing banter of their usual conversation.

"It was implied." They chuckled some more and were once again quiet.

"I really am glad you came, Lois." She looked up into his eyes at the suddenly serious tone and started to drown there for a moment, full of emotion as they were.

"Yeah," she murmured, "Me too. I'm glad you invited me."

Clark grinned impishly. "Me too." They laughed a bit more before falling silent once again. Lois found herself sharing his gaze, wishing if only, searching them for any hint or clue of what he might be thinking.

Clark stared into her enormous, chocolate brown eyes, feeling his heart constrict with love and longing. His breath hitched as she kept looking at him, through him, into him. Could she finally see it? Could she see what she did to him, how his pulse rate spiked and his throat went tight and he could barely keep both feet on the floor? He worshipped the ground she walked on-- had since before he'd even found and rescued her from the Congo six months earlier. There was no doubt in his mind-- Lois was the one for him. He'd known when he first met her counterpart, though even then he'd known they wouldn't be exactly the same.

And they weren't. Well, they were in all of the important ways. But his Lois was a bit more fragile, though still as bold. She was a bit more cautious, suspicious-- naturally so. And for that matter, so was he, from what Clark understood. It was weird to think that there were other Loises and other Clarks out there. He hated to think of the woman in front of him as "his"—though he desperately wished she was. But the others didn't matter. Even the Lois he had met before paled in comparison to the one standing before him-- the one he was in love with.

God, he just wished she would let him kiss her. He wanted to. So badly that she could probably see it in his eyes. For once, Clark let his guard down, let all of his emotion pour out of him. He willed her to take the chance, pleading her, shouting through his eyes and heart and mind and soul that *this*, this was what he wanted. He wanted her with him, spending days and nights with him, flirting and laughing with him and damn it all, kissing him. He knew it was a lot, and he knew it was entirely new territory for them, and he didn't really expect all of that, any of it. But he *wanted* it. And he wanted her to want it too. Just enough to give it a chance.

She was so close now.

Lois blinked slowly and Clark watched as a flush slowly started to spread across her neck and cheeks. She looked down briefly before seemingly taking a deep breath and stepping into him. Clark swallowed hard but kept staring. His eyes weren't sure what to focus on first-- her full lips, the miniscule amount of space between her body and his, her dark eyes-- they were what he eventually got sucked into the most, sinking into the wanting expression there. He knew his face was showing his mixed emotions, his questions and desire and confusion and pure lust. Before he could even think to ask though, she leaned her face in impossibly closer and with a whispered breath across his lips spoke the two words he needed her to say.

"Me too."

Then her lips were on his, gently and all too brief. She was pulling away before he had time to appreciate it. Too soon. Much too soon.

Lois grinned shyly at the dazed look on his face. He was entirely too adorable looking like that. Suddenly his hand was cupping her face, large enough to frame her face almost entirely. Her grin faded into a look of pure want. Clark leaned in slowly, eyes glued to hers until that last moment when he glanced down to her lips and moving in for the final stretch. As his lips finally met hers, all of the butterflies tumbling in Lois' stomach transformed and suddenly they were fireworks, and they were everywhere and they were beautiful.

After several long moments, they finally parted for oxygen. Lois smiled shyly and looked to her shoes with a blush before returning to get lost in Clark's lust filled gaze. She bit her bottom lip, eliciting a low moan from Clark that made her whole body shiver and her toes curl. It wasn't enough. She still wanted more. She wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss him forever, the heady feeling ensconcing the both of them from now until eternity ends.

But it was a perfect first kiss.

She smiled at him and put her small hand on his cheek, prompting him to smile right back.

"Good night, Clark." She turned and made her way for the door.

"Lois?" his roughened voice caused her to stop in her tracks. She turned to look back at him evenly, smile still on her lips, mingling with the taste of his tongue.

"Yes, Clark?"

"Tomorrow, after work. If we wrap up our story? Um... Would you... Do you want to go out somewhere? Maybe dinner or a movie?"

He was utterly adorable, and she loosed her blindingly happy grin on him, to which he grinned and stood a bit taller.

"Tomorrow then."

His megawatt smile was back in full force. "Tomorrow."

Lois blushed and stepped out the open door to the apartment. "Good night, Clark." The door closed behind her.

Dazed and still beaming, he replied to the closed door before him. "Until tomorrow, Lois."

Tomorrow. If tonight were any indication, then tomorrow would be great. So he would get some sleep, if there was any sleep to be had, plan his day, get the story done as early as possible, and spend every waking moment with the incredible Lois Lane.

Tomorrow seemed like a fantastic place.

THE END

The following story –

“The Ears Have It”

by – SueS

was Nominated in the:

Best Short Stories,

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

The Ears Have It

PG-13 for mild language, vaguely impure thoughts, and a lot of unsubstantiated insults aimed at Mayson Drake.

A missing scene/rewrite from 'The Eyes Have It'. I was wondering one day why Clark suddenly found the courage to ask Lois out in 'The Phoenix'.

My heartfelt thanks to Emily for being so awesome and, most especially, for services cheerfully rendered.

<><><>

I've had a lot of bad days, but nothing has ever been as bewildering and frightening as my current situation. I'm sitting on Lois' couch with my shoulders hunched and my head in my hands when I hear her approaching. I instinctively look up, my eyes sightlessly searching, when she stops a few feet away from me.

"Superman, can I get you anything?"

I shake my head. "No, thank you."

I'm feeling self-conscious, so I pull my cape closed around me like a blanket. Given the chance to do it over again, I'd still save Lois even if it lost me my sight. And yet I can't stop thinking what if? What if I had flown away sooner? What if I had scooped her up and left without confronting her attackers? What if I hadn't been arrogant enough to believe that nothing -- especially a beam of light -- could hurt me? I'm so lost in thought that I jump when something brushes softly against my shoulder.

"Sorry!" Lois pulls her hand away and I instantly miss her touch. I wish she'd do it again; give me that little piece of familiarity in the unrelenting darkness that has swallowed me whole. If it wasn't for the soothing and steady beat of her heart, I think I'd be in full panic mode right now.

"Are you sure there isn't someone you need to call? Maybe there's someone waiting at home for you?"

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth - she never stops investigating, no matter the circumstances. "I live alone, Lois."

"Oh," she says and I can hear the faintest tone of satisfaction in her voice. "Well, I guess not, then."

Lois takes a seat next to me on the couch. I can feel her staring at me, taking advantage of the situation to study me when she thinks I won't know. I guess I owe her as much for all the times I've gawked at her without permission. Watching Lois in the break area is the highlight of my mornings. I love the fall of hair across her face when she turns her head and the graceful motion of her hands as she prepares her coffee. I especially love it when she has to get something down off the top shelf. She'll go on tiptoe, elongating the already sleek lines of her calves, while all I can do is sit at my desk and watch in awestruck wonder.

"Snell's law gives the relationship between angles of incidence and refraction for a wave impinging on an interface between two media with different indices of refraction," she states matter-of-factly.

"Uh…" I'm not sure what to say. Lois has been spouting esoteric non sequiturs ever since her apartment was broken into.

"Sorry," she mutters. "I'm not sure where that came from." There's a pause and I think we're both trying to come to grips with the oddness of our current situation. "Would you like me to turn on the television?" Lois offers. "Or a radio?"

I shake my head. "You don't have to entertain me. Just do whatever you'd normally do."

She lets out a self-deprecating chuff of air. "Yeah. Right."

"What would you be doing if I wasn't here?" I ask, curious to hear her answer.

"I don't know," she says after several seconds thought. "Laundry, maybe."

"On a Friday night?" I don't believe her for a second. "It's going to ruin my image of Lois Lane if you're serious."

Lois shifts, and I think she's turned to face me more fully. "You have an image of me? Do tell."

My grip on the edges of my cape relaxes as I warm up to this game. "I could see you doing laundry on a Sunday afternoon. Or maybe a Wednesday night. But not on a Friday. I suspect on Friday nights you're busy breaking into buildings or infiltrating a motorcycle gang."

She favors me with one of her full-throated laughs, the kind she only gives out when she's genuinely amused. "Why would I spend my Friday nights breaking into buildings?"

"Because that gives you most of the weekend to dig up whatever it is you're looking for. I bet you spend Saturday nights collating your information, and Sunday typing it up."

"Not all day Sunday," she corrects tartly as her knee makes contact with mine. "I take a break on Sunday afternoons to do my laundry."

"I knew it," I say with a grin. For a moment, I almost forget that I'm blind, and that I'm wearing the cape.

"I guess you know me better than I thought," she teases. "But you're wrong about my plans for tonight. I had no illicit activities planned. What about you? If you weren't stuck here with me, what would you be doing?"

Avoiding Mayson, I think. Apparently she interprets my silence as reticence, because her knee pulls away from mine.

"Surely you don't spend all your time flying around the city and waiting for stuff to go wrong?"

"I don't," I admit and fight the urge to start squirming. Sitting on a couch and flirting with Lois tops my list of favorite things to do. I shouldn't really flirt with her when I'm Superman. Still, I can't help but move my leg slightly so that our knees are touching again. I suddenly, desperately, need that connection with her.

"So what else do you do, besides fly around?" Lois persists. "Do you read?"

I nod. "Sure."

"What do you read?"

"Anything and everything. I love reading."

She lets out an exasperated sigh, although her knee presses a little more tightly to mine. "Superman, don't take this the wrong way, but you're terrible at answering questions."

"Maybe you're not any good at asking them," I tease.

She makes a sound that tells me she believes I couldn't be more wrong. "I guess you aren't going to tell me anything too personal."

I nod. "I hope you can understand why."

"Sure, you have a mystique. Besides, it would totally ruin it for me if it turned out you liked reading Sweet Valley High."

I'm caught off guard and can't help but laugh. Then I sit up straighter to compensate for being so unguarded and my leg loses contact with hers.

"Can I ask you something else? Something that isn't about you personally?" There's the faintest hint of nervousness in her voice as she asks.

"Sure."

"You and Clark are friends, right?"

Once again, I have to fight the urge to squirm. "That's a personal question, but, yes."

"Does he, uh, you know, ever talk to you about women?"

"Women?" I hedge, afraid of where this question might be leading.

"For instance," Lois continues and her knee bumps into mine again in her eagerness, "has he ever mentioned Mayson Drake?"

"Mayson Drake?" I echo, trying to buy some time to think. This is not the line of questioning I expected.

"I know you know her. That blonde barracuda who works for the DA's office? I never thought Clark was that naïve or desperate, but she just keeps coming around and I think he might actually be gullible enough to go out with her again."

I have no idea what to say in the face of this kind of vehemence.

"She's just using him!" Lois rises from the couch and I can picture her waving her hands in irritation.

"Using him?" I can't quite hide the skepticism in my tone. "I hardly think--."

"Are you telling me that you don't see a problem when an unsophisticated guy from a small town gets deeply involved with a rapacious, fast-talking slut? You can practically hear the tick-tock of her biological clock when she walks in the room. She's obviously bent on seducing Clark so that she can trap him into doing the honorable thing and marrying her after the inevitable happens."

"I--" Now I really have no idea what to say. Mayson is many things, but I would never describe her as a rapacious, fast-talking slut bent on carrying my love child. I shake my head. "I'm pretty sure Clark isn't interested in her like that."

"Hmmph." Lois is definitely not convinced.

"I promise you, Clark is not all that interested in dating Mayson."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I, uh, I just am."

"So he's not in love with her?"

I shake my emphatically. "Not even remotely."

Lois takes a seat next to me again -- and this time she's sitting much closer. It's not just our knees that are making contact. The whole length of her thigh is pressed to mine.

"So… Is he in love with somebody else?" She tries to make her tone light, but I can hear the effort she's making.

I shake my head again. "We don't actually talk about his love life."

She makes an exasperated sigh. "Then how do you know he's not in love with Mayson?"

"Because…" I flounder for a reason. "Because he never really talks about her at all."

In the silence that follows, I can sense that she's somewhat pleased with my answer. I even start to relax a little, thinking that maybe the subject is going to be dropped. And then she asks, "Does he ever talk about me?"

According to my mom, I talk about Lois all the time. "About you?"

"Yes. Does Clark ever talk about me?"

"Uh… I know he respects you. He thinks you're very talented."

Lois lets out a disgusted growl. "He respects me? Great."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," she answers glumly. "Who doesn't want to hear that they're respected? It's just--." She pauses, and then continues in a more wistful tone, "Clark's my best friend."

"I'm positive he feels the same way about you."

I can feel her fidgeting as she takes a deep breath. "Women throw themselves at him all the time, you know."

"They do?" Sure, I've had the odd flirtation, but I can only think of a few times when any feminine attention directed my way has been blatant. Of the two of us, Lois is the one who routinely turns heads.

"Trust me, Clark is very attractive," Lois' tone is dry. "And he's totally clueless about it, which just makes him that much more attractive. In the two years that I've known him, hardly a day has gone by that some woman hasn't flirted with him. Clark never even seems to notice that they're coming on to him. He just gives them this polite smile like it never even happened."

Because that never happens, I think. It's a revelation to hear Lois Lane sounding so jealous. Over me. Not Superman, but Clark. You'd think every woman I meet flirts with me, if you believed her version of events.

"Maybe he doesn't know how to flirt?" I suggest.

"Oh my god, you couldn't be more wrong! He can definitely flirt." I hear her swallow, and then her voice turns softer. "He does flirt with some of them. He flirts with Mayson."

I'm about to deny that, but Lois isn't done yet. "I know, I know. You don't think he likes her like that. But have you seen them together? I have. And it's not pretty."

I can't resist stating the obvious. "You're jealous."

I'm expecting a denial, but instead she whispers, "I hate it when he smiles at her."

I'm shocked into silence.

She clears her throat softly and continues, "He used to smile at me like that. I guess it's true what they say – you don't know what you've lost until it's gone."

"You haven't lost Clark."

"You're right. I mean, I would have had to be something more than a friend to have really lost him."

"Clark's been under the impression that you only like him as a friend."

She doesn't answer. I wish I could see her, so I could have a hint as to what she's thinking.

"He's my best friend," she says softly. "And, most days, that's enough. But sometimes…" Her voice trails off and the apartment becomes so quiet that all I can hear is both our heartbeats.

The silence -- and my curiosity -- stretch on and on until they become exquisite enough to make me prompt, "Sometimes?"

"Sometimes…" She lets out a nervous laugh. "I don't know. Maybe you could hint to him, you know, that someone besides Mayson would like to go out with him."

"Why don't you ask him out?"

"Because then I'd be just as forward as she is!" Lois sounds horrified at the idea. "I want him to date me because it was his idea and not because I chased him. Why can't he flatter me, like he does Mayson?"

"He flatters her?" For the life of me, I can't think of a single time I've flattered Mayson.

"And he's kissed her."

Lois saw that? Then again, she did show up pretty soon afterwards. I didn't realize until just now that she actually saw us. I can't help shaking my head. "I think Mayson kissed him, not the other way around."

"He wasn't exactly fighting her off," Lois says wryly. Her elbow nudges mine. "Look, I know you're always trying to find the good in people, but you're going to have to take a pass on me liking Mayson Drake. Besides, she hates me every bit as much as I hate her."

I'm utterly baffled now. "Why would Mayson hate you?"

"You're kidding, right? She likes Clark and I spend most of the day around him. She hates me for the same reason I hate her. Except he's required to be with me, and chooses to be with her."

"He hasn't chosen to be with her, Lois. You said yourself she's persistent."

"She's like a human rash! God, I can't believe he kissed her."

"He didn't kiss her--"

"Whatever. You haven't seen them together. You haven't seen him smile at her and you haven't seen--" She suddenly goes perfectly still next to me and then, in a much calmer tone of voice, intones, "The Planck area, which is equal to the square of the Planck length, plays a role in black hole entropy." Lois lets out a sigh. "I wish I'd quit doing that."

I reach over and find her hand, then give it a soft squeeze. "I'm sure it's a temporary thing."

"It's nothing compared to what you're going through."

I force a smile. "That's temporary, too. It's all going to work out fine."

"You don't have to be so relentlessly positive all the time, you know. I promise I won't tell anyone that you had a pessimistic moment."

This time my smile is genuine. "Someday I may take you up on that."

"But not tonight?"

"No. Tonight I have to believe that everything is going to work out okay. Things will look better in the morning."

There's a long pause and I start to let go of her hand, afraid that maybe I've crossed a line, when Lois laces her fingers with mine. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being you. For being so relentlessly cheerful, no matter what." Her fingers tighten on mine. "Sometimes you remind me of Clark."

My blood seems to go cold. "I do?"

"You're both glass half-full kind of guys." She sighs and releases my hand. "So here's what we're going to do. Tomorrow we're going to figure out what's going on with your eyes. And once that's settled, you're going to tell Clark to suck it up and ask me out. Okay?"

"Okay."

She stands up, but I don't hear her walking away. "I, uh, I guess you're either going to have to tell me where you live or else sleep here tonight."

"Would my staying here be too much of an imposition? You could take me to Clark's--"

"It's not an imposition!" she rushes to reassure me. "I'm glad I can finally do something to repay all the times you've helped me. So, uh, you're taller than I am. Would you like the bed?"

As tempting as that sounds, I have to turn the offer down. "I couldn't take your bed, Lois. The couch will be fine."

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

I listen as she moves across her apartment towards the bedroom. I can hear a closet door open and some shuffling noises. Her footsteps soften after she takes off her shoes, but I can still hear her footfalls as she walks back to me. She takes my wrist and moves my hand to sit on top of the bedding she's set next to me.

"There's a pillow and a blanket for you. Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you."

There's a pause and I can sense that she's reluctant to leave. I don't know if it's because she's worried I'm going to do more damage to her apartment, or if it's the novelty of having Superman sleeping on her couch. Honestly, I'm not sure I'm going to get any sleep tonight anyway. In spite of what she thinks are my 'glass half-full' tendencies, I'm scared to death that this blindness might be permanent. Truthfully, right now being near her is probably the only thing in the world stopping me from sinking into utter despair.

"Normal light vibrates equally in all directions perpendicular to its path of propagation."

After we both have puzzled over that one for a few seconds, Lois giggles. "You know, it wouldn't be nearly as bad if I actually understood what I was saying." Her hand touches my elbow. "If you need anything, during the night, don't hesitate to ask."

A wave of warmth, starting where her hand is, spreads through me. It's odd, but when I'm around her, and especially when I'm wearing the cape, I feel stronger. And now, with her gentle touch and her offer to help, I suddenly feel capable again. I didn't fully believe it earlier, but now I'm certain that we really are going to figure out what's happened -- together.

"Thanks," I manage to whisper, still reeling from the sense of power that she's imbued in me.

"Anytime." Her hand pats my arm and moves away.

Even though my world is already dark, I close my eyes as I listen to her walk away. It's all I can do not to call out to her and confess, once and for all, how much I need her. I want her to know just how much of Superman's strength and goodness are because of her influence and her belief in me.

Right now seems like a lousy time to start confessing. I can't do it blind. I have to be able to see her face. Most of all, we need to be on more equal footing. I can't be in the cape. I need to be me, Clark, telling my best friend the secret that will either bind us together or tear us apart.

Just once, though, before I potentially ruin everything, I want the chance to simply be the guy she's dating. I want just one night where I can smile at her, and flatter her, and maybe even kiss her.

Our future together has to start somewhere.

I'm going to ask her out.

<><><>

End

The following story –

“The End of the Road”

by – Terry Leatherwood

was Nominated in the:

Best Long Story

and

Best Overall

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

The End of the Road

By Terry Leatherwood <t_leatherwood@peoplepc.com>

Rated PG-13 (violence)

Submitted February 2013

Summary: Clark and Lois continue to develop their friendship while each of them denies any romantic attachment to the other, all while Lois' relationship with Lex Luthor and Clark's relationship with Rebecca Connors continue to develop unevenly. The third story in the author's *Road* trilogy.

The familiar characters of this story are not my own but are the property of corporate entities (DC Comics, December 3rd Productions, ABC, etc.) other than myself. This work is a labor of love and is presented with no expectation of remuneration.

*The End Of The Road* is the third story in the author's *Road* trilogy, including the stories *The Road Taken* (first volume) and *Further Down The Road* (second volume). This trilogy is not to be confused with several other excellent long-form multi-part stories featuring the word or the concept of "Road" in either the title or the narrative.

I want to give a shout-out to my three hard-working betas. In no particular order, they are shallowford, Iolanthealias, and Darth Michael. The good things in the story are partly their doing, and if it's a bad thing, I probably ignored their wise counsel. And I must also recognize my excellent and highly skilled GE, Marcelle. If you are fortunate enough to have a story assigned to her, listen to what she says because she's brilliant! Thanks, all of you!

***

Chapter One

Lex pulled the throttle back and slipped into the tiny island's harbor. "The shore drops off fairly quickly here, and it can be difficult to climb up from the water when the tide is this low. How close do we need to get to the island for you to stay dry?"

Clark leaned over the side railing and eyeballed the distance. "Six feet closer would be better."

"Done," Lex replied. He slowly turned the boat so that the stern pointed at land. He backed the boat up several feet, then shut down the motor. "Any closer and we risk damaging the screws against the rocks. Can you make that jump?"

"I think so. Hand me a rope in case I fall in."

"Sailors refer to 'ropes' as 'lines.'"

Clark tilted his head and grimaced. "Then hand me a 'line,' please."

Lex gave him one end of a line, the other end of which was secured to a cleat in the stern. Clark climbed up to the stern railing on the launch and got his balance, then leaned forward and pushed towards the land. He jumped the twelve-foot distance with four feet to spare.

Lex nodded as Clark secured the launch to a rock. "Impressive leap, Clark. I believe your powers are coming back."

"Not as quickly as I'd like."

Lex shrugged. "One cannot disregard either the laws of physics or our own physical limits with impunity."

"Superman does it all the time."

"Superman is a very special case. You should endeavor to emulate him."

Clark almost grinned. "Toss me Lois' swimsuit, please. I'm sure she's ready for it by now."

Lex turned and grabbed the suit from the seat cushion in the stern. "Please don't peek while she's changing."

Clark caught the wad of fabric and turned to climb the slope to the island's peak. "As if I'd survive a stunt like that. Be right back."

Lex watched Clark scramble up the rocky incline and marveled at his agility. He was close to death not two hours ago, thought Lex, and now he's fitter than I ever was.

Lex shook his head and turned away. There was something he needed to do, something that at the moment even Superman couldn't do. Something that his guilt in allowing Nigel St. John so much access to, influence over, and control of LexCorp's executive suites all but demanded that he do.

He had to take care of Arianna Carlin Luthor.

And he had just the tools to perform that job.

***

Clark stopped just below the lip of the small depression which topped the island. "Lois? Are you up there?"

"Yeah," she called out. "Don't come up just yet."

"Okay. I have your swimsuit with me. Are you coming to get it or should I toss it up to you?"

"Just toss it over the edge. I'll come get it."

"Okay." His hook shot would have been true from mid-court, he mused. "Hey, why can't I come up there?"

"Because I'm sunning myself. I really need the energy."

"So? You're sitting in the sun?"

"Maximum solar exposure, Clark."

"What?"

He could tell from the tone of her voice that she was embarrassed. "The more skin I can expose to the sun, the faster I can recharge."

He grinned. "I see. Or, rather, I don't see, but I understand."

Her embarrassment segued into exasperation. "Yes, Clark, I was sunbathing naked. Are you happy now?"

He shook his head. "Only if you are, Lois."

He listened as she grunted and skidded and wrestled her way into her swimsuit. Finally, her head appeared over the lip of the island's top. "My powers aren't recharged yet. I used up just about everything I had to get this far. Can you give me a hand getting down?"

"No problem." He looked to his left and pointed. "I think the footing is better over here. It's not as steep a drop."

"Thanks." She scrambled down the grade with little trouble and grabbed his hand to steady herself. Then she looked directly into his face. "I'm sorry about Rebecca, Clark. I really hope she'll be okay."

He felt his face darken despite his attempt to control himself. "So do I."

***

Clark got to the bottom of the incline just in time to catch Lois and keep her from falling into the water. "Thanks," she muttered.

"You're welcome." He reached down to release the line from its impromptu mooring and stopped to listen as Lex spoke over the radio.

"That is an affirmative. Operation Omega Alpha Gamma Lambda. Execute. I say again, execute. No delay. Over."

The speaker crackled to life. "Confirm operation Omega Alpha Gamma Lambda. Over."

"Confirmed. Authorization two-gamma-eight-one-zero-echo."

"Two-gamma-eight-one-zero-echo confirmed. Hermes base out."

"Zeus is ten-four and ten-ten. Out."

Clark glanced at Lois and sent, -* Did you hear that? *-

-* Yes. *-

-* Know what it means? *-

-* No idea. Why? What's the problem? *-

Instead of sending a response, Clark jumped into the boat and turned to lend a hand to Lois, who leaped aboard nimbly. When she was safely aboard, he coiled the line and stowed it below the cleat at the stern. "We're clear of the shore, Lex."

"Good. I estimate that we should reach the harbor in fifty minutes, plus ten to fifteen more to maneuver to the LexCorp docks." Lex looked back and asked, "Are you both ready to go?"

"More than ready," sighed Lois. "Get us out of here."

Lex turned over the engine and started it, then guided the boat out of the rocky harbor and pushed the throttles all the way up. The resulting roar made Lois flinch and cover her ears. "Ow!" she yelled. "Why didn't you warn me?"

Clark looked at her and shook his head.

"Why didn't you tell me that my powers would come back before my control did?"

Clark shook his head and touched his ear. -* Can't hear you, Lois, *- he sent. -* The motor's too loud. *-

-* The stupid motor's so loud that I -- Oh. Ha and ha. Not to mention chuckle, guffaw, and chortle. You need a new joke writer. The one you've got is terrible. *-

-* Sorry. To tell you the truth, I didn't warn you because I don't have to re-learn my control. I guess your powers work a little different than mine do. *-

-* Yeah, flaunt your heritage at me! Make fun of the mere human girl! *-

He grinned at her. -* Why don't you try to get some rest, lay back in the sun? *-

-* That's my plan, farm boy. Don't disturb me until we get close to land. *-

Clark nodded and stood, then made his way to the cockpit of the small boat where Lex was holding the wheel as they cut through the slight chop. He looked at Clark and smiled. "The surface is flat enough to run the craft at full throttle, but she'll have to be serviced when we get back. There may be some dents in the hull and the engines will probably have to be rebuilt."

"If you say so. Remember, Kansas doesn't have very many large bodies of water. I don't have much experience on deep-water boats."

"I understand. May I ask you a personal question?"

Clark hesitated a moment, then nodded again. "Sure."

"Do you plan to retrieve that sample of green crystal from the ocean?"

Clark blinked. That question hadn't even been on his radar, much less on the list of things Lex might ask him. "No. Besides the danger of drowning I'd be in if I did find it underwater, I don't know exactly where it is, and it's extremely unlikely that anyone could find it out there. I'm pretty sure Arianna Carlin won't think to go get it, even if she knew where it--"

Suddenly it hit him. Alpha Gamma Lambda, the letters of the Greek alphabet corresponding to the English letters A, C, and L -- there is no Greek letter C and Gamma was the third letter. ACL was Arianna Carlin Luthor.

He suddenly realized that Lex was staring at him. "What's wrong?" Lex asked. "Did you forget something?"

"No, I haven't forgotten anything. But I just realized something." He leaned closer to Lex and spoke with more force. "You've done something, started something with Arianna Carlin, haven't you? Who were you talking to when we got here? What did you tell them to do?"

Lex checked the boat's heading and made a slight correction. "That conversation was not for your ears."

"Really? Remember that I've got great hearing! If the boat weren't roaring so loudly, I'd hear your heart beating faster, wouldn't I? You've done something. What is it?"

Lex sighed. "I don't want to involve either of you."

Clark goggled at him. "It's a little late for that, don't you think? We were involved when Nigel came aboard your boat to kill us! Now tell me what you've done!"

Lex' head snapped around and his eyes flashed. "I am no criminal to be harassed by an out-of-uniform superhero! I will not be commanded while on my own property!"

"You don't own the ocean!"

"I own this boat and I am captain, by both statute and precedent! You cannot order me to do anything!"

Lois' hand snaked between them and pulled the throttles back. "You boys are interrupting my beauty nap. Either of you want to tell me what the problem is?"

Clark glared at Lex for a moment as if challenging him to speak, but Lex only set his lips in a firm line and returned the glare. Finally, Clark crossed his arms and said, "He's started something with Arianna Carlin, some kind of operation. Someone from LexCorp is going after her."

Lois' eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "What? Lex, are you nuts? That's a job for the police, not your security people!"

Without looking away from Clark, Lex replied, "My people are all former military, former law enforcement, or former mercenaries, and they are quite well-trained in all aspects of small-arms operations. They can handle whatever security Arianna might have around her."

"It doesn't matter! You're not the cops and your people have no authority to make arrests! What do you--"

She stopped talking and her eyes widened. Clark frowned as he tried to follow her reasoning, then the same conclusion came to him. "Your people are going in with guns blazing, aren't they?" he demanded. "They have orders to kill her, not capture her!"

Lex huffed. "Of course they have no such orders! I doubt that they would obey orders such as those even if I were foolish enough to issue them. They are to capture and hold Arianna and anyone else found with her for the police, preferably without any injuries and definitely without anyone dying." He turned to Lois and glared at her. "I would have believed that you, of all people, would not think me so petty and vindictive. My only goal is to put a stop to her depredations, not to become an armed vigilante."

Lois put her hands on her hips and took a breath to respond, but Clark lifted one hand. "Wait a minute. You already had this plan in place, didn't you? All you had to do was tell your people to execute it." Clark shook his head. "I suppose you have contingency plans in place for any number of situations, don't you?"

Lex froze to the deck with his mouth partly open. Before he could respond, Lois asked, "Do you have any plans for Ultra Woman or Superman?"

Lex' mouth snapped shut and he took a deep breath. He let it out slowly and inhaled again, then said, "Yes. I do."

"What are they?" Lois demanded.

"Lois, my dear, I'm not certain that this is the right place or time to--"

"I'm making it the right place and the right time. Tell me what you had in store for us."

Lex sighed and looked over the prow of the boat. "At first, the plan was to discover some weakness of Superman's and hold it at the ready in case he -- you, Clark -- turned out to be less than you were advertised. Later, the plan was revised to present you with a refuge if you were somehow injured. That plan was later expanded to offer the same refuge to Ultra Woman should she become incapacitated."

Lois nodded, apparently mollified. Clark leaned forward. "What caused you to change your mind about me?"

Lex still didn't look at Clark as he answered. "The growing body of evidence that your self-ordained purpose was to help people in trouble. I had my staff compile dossiers on both Superman and Ultra Woman, and we were unable to discover a single instance where either of you had acted in obvious self-interest or against the public safety."

Lois crossed her arms. "How about that, Clark? We don't act in obvious self-interest."

Clark caught a twinkle in the other man's eye as he responded. "That is true. But, after reviewing the logs of each of your public appearances, we also decided that Ultra Woman either had anger issues or suffered from periodic bouts of something akin to PMS."

Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open. "You -- you what?"

Clark chuckled. "Lois, you do tend to handle the bad guys a little roughly sometimes."

Her jaws snapped shut and her eyes narrowed. "Oh, really? Well, I think you two can just swim back!"

She spun and marched to the stern of the boat with a huff. Clark lifted one eyebrow at Lex and said, "Well played, sir."

Lex' eyes twinkled again and he let out a long breath, then pushed the throttles forward to their stops. "Thank you. I wasn't sure that I would not be swimming in fact as well as in her wishes."

"Yeah, right after you accused her of being hormonal? That was either dumb or very cagey, and I'm inclined to think the latter."

Lex' smile dimmed. "It was for the sake of my own ego, I admit. Nigel's perfidy will have far-reaching consequences."

"Like that operation you kicked off a few minutes ago?"

Lex turned to face Clark's bland expression. "I hoped you had been deflected from that little detail."

"Not likely. You want to tell me what's going on?"

Lex took a deep breath and said, "I would rather not. The less you and Lois know about what is going to happen in regards to Arianna, the safer you will be. Should something go amiss, there will be legal and business repercussions, and I would prefer not to drag either of you down with me."

"You're going to have legal problems whatever happens, don't you think? You're a civilian, not a law enforcement agency."

"Do you recall Ross Perot of EDS sending his security people into a hostile foreign nation some years ago and effecting a hostage rescue? Should my operation succeed, that is how it will be spun in the media and to the police. My people really are trying to capture Arianna, not execute her."

Clark shrugged. "Okay, I give. But I want an interview with you about this operation, no matter which way it goes."

Lex appeared to consider Clark's proposal, then nodded. "Very well. My only condition is that you take whatever time you require to see to Rebecca. If she -- when she awakens after her surgery, she will need to see a sympathetic face."

"That goes without saying." Clark looked out over the water. "How much longer before we make port?"

Lex checked the instrument panel. "I estimate arrival in port in approximately forty minutes, depending on the traffic on the harbor at the time."

"So we should get there before dark?"

"Easily."

"Good. Thanks."

Clark sat back and studied the waves they were currently skipping across. He'd been unable to prevent Nigel from shooting Rebecca. He'd been helpless when it became obvious that she wouldn't survive the boat trip back to shore. And he'd had to allow Lois, in her depleted state, to carry her to Metropolis Hospital.

Would Rebecca survive? If she did, would she blame him for her injuries? Would she renew her declaration of love or would she fear the thought of him for the rest of her life?

The biggest question -- to him, at least -- was how he felt about her. He did care for her. He liked her a lot. She was brilliant, hard-working, stunningly attractive, quick-minded, and utterly fearless. On top of all that, she claimed to love him without reservation. He hadn't needed her last-minute avowal of love to know that. No, she loved him.

But he didn't know if he loved her, nor did he know if her love was like Lana's had been, unreserved and pure and complete. He wondered if his life would be better with her or without her in it.

Then he mentally berated himself. Lana had loved him, that was undeniable, but they'd had some serious issues in their time together, both before and after they'd married. Her almost pathological need for financial security had caused friction between them, and her tendency to grab control of whatever situation she was in caused more. It would take some time to list all of her virtues, but it would take a similar amount of time to list her faults. Of course, he could say that about anyone, including himself.

One thing at a time, he told himself. First we get to shore. After that, he'd visit the hospital and find out if there was still a choice for him to make. Then he'd find out how Lex' little operation was going.

As highly as he thought of her, he was beginning to believe that, while Rebecca was a wonderful person who loved him very much, she might not be someone he should consider marrying. What kind of life might they have together? She was as committed to her career as he was to his, and she hadn't given him any indication that she might moderate her commitment in any way. And she hadn't had time to factor his secret identity into her view of their relationship. That might change things completely for both of them.

No, he thought, it definitely will change things.

He felt a nudge in his mind. -* Clark? Be strong, okay? Be strong for her. For all of us. We need you. And I'll be here for you no matter what *-

A smile grew on his face. Lois was very good at reassuring him. He sent a wave of gratitude to her, then sent, -* Thanks, Lois. You're a good friend. *-

He felt a soft flow of warmth from her, then she gently closed the link. Probably giving me some privacy, he thought.

He was going to need it. His thoughts at that moment weren't for public consumption.

Chapter Two

Randy Lefleur, LexCorp's director of security, was worried. The operation his boss had ordered was well-planned, but three of the ten people on the assault team had not participated in the most recent live exercise with the rest of the team. They were good, he knew, but it didn't matter how good an officer was if he stepped unaware into his buddy's line of fire. And the last live exercise had been five months before, which was plenty of time to forget any little details. Not to mention that the original plan called for an early morning jump-off, not a start time in the middle of the afternoon.

The briefing had been almost too quick and too easy. His people hadn't asked many questions about the mission, which either meant that they were ready or that they didn't know enough to ask good questions. It wasn't apparent which was the case. Randy hoped it was the former but feared that it was the latter.

And Randy didn't know if the target had upgraded her security in the upstate New Troy complex since the most recent report was filed, nor did he know if more people than the three bodyguards armed only with pistols were protecting the target. All in all, it made for a dangerous mission and a recipe for complete disaster if he wasn't extremely careful.

Randy took center point and waved a two-person team around to the left side of the house, away from the four-car garage. He motioned for the four-person fire cover team to take up positions overlooking the right and back sides of the house. The other three spread out to cover the front of the building and the front of the garage.

Now the only ways for Arianna Carlin to leave the house were to surrender to them or to die in a shoot-out. And Randy desperately wanted to avoid a firefight. He'd seen too many operations just like this one during his FBI days which had gone south in a hurry, and every time that had happened someone had gotten hurt.

Sometimes some of the good guys died, too.

He looked at his watch and spoke into the microphone beside his mouth. "This is Team Leader. Communications check. Sound off in order."

"Team one, check."

"Team two, check."

"Team three, check."

"I copy all teams. Team one, any movement?"

"Negative. No action."

"Team two, anything to report?"

"There's a gardener in the back yard raking leaves. Older man, dressed in worn overalls and floppy hat, does not appear to be armed. Nothing else that I can see."

"Team three?"

"Far garage door is open. I can see a late-model dark blue Corvette Stingray facing outward but no movement."

"Roger, three. Anything upstairs?"

"Negative -- wait. Movement at one of -- correction, two adjoining windows on the top floor. Looks like curtains being pulled back."

That wasn't a good sign, thought Randy. "Hold positions, repeat, hold positions. Watch those windows. Everybody look for any movement or anything out of the ordinary."

***

Beth-Ann was irritated. The movement sensors on the estate grounds had been triggered again. She hadn't liked this new addition to the security net, since they could be set off by deer coming to feed or even large birds flying low over the grounds. And if she was on duty, it was her job to check the outdoor cameras to determine what was moving.

Nighttime was the worst. She hated getting up in the middle of the night because Bambi wanted a late-night snack. And she hated having to go outside and shoo them away because it messed up her sleep cycle. Dr. Carlin was jealous of her privacy, even from the local wildlife. Even though this was late afternoon and Beth-Ann hadn't been awakened from a deep sleep, she still didn't like it.

Beth-Ann checked the sensor grid. Funny, she thought, it looks like the deer have us surrounded today. Maybe they're just--

No. The sensors had all been tripped at about the same time. Deer didn't move in formation like that. She flicked on the video monitors and looked for wildlife.

No deer. No foxes sneaking around the grounds, no birds diving on snakes in the grass, no nothing.

Her attention snapped to a dark outline which looked like a pile of leaves with a stick poking out of it. The stick didn't quite look natural -- it was too straight and even. She dialed the lens in for a closer look.

The stick was not a stick. It was the barrel of an assault rifle.

She reached down and pressed the silent alert. She knew that two other women and two men in the house, all with good marksmanship skills and the willingness to use them, would take up positions in the house within moments. They'd check in over the intercom as soon as they were ready.

Beth-Ann began going through the camera feeds in order. She counted five -- no, six bundles of fake leaves with rifles ringing the house. And surely that wasn't all of them. Someone had them surrounded, and whoever was out there hadn't come to sell them Girl Scout cookies. They were outnumbered and maybe outgunned. It was time for her to earn her generous salary.

She pressed another button. "Dr. Carlin? We have a serious problem."

***

Randy keyed his microphone again. "This is Team Leader. Anybody see any more movement?"

"Team two. The gardener just dropped his rake and hustled to the back door. I think they know we're here, boss."

Great. Just great. That was all they needed. Almost any position could be defended against an attacking force at least twice the size of the defending force if the defenders knew the attackers were coming, and this house was designed and built to be defended. He didn't know how many armed defenders were in the house, he didn't know how they were armed, and worst of all he didn't know how they'd been spotted. Now they'd lost the element of surprise, and alert defenders were three times more dangerous than if they hadn't been alerted to the assault.

He switched frequencies and keyed the mic once more. "Base, this is Assault Team Leader. We have lost the element of surprise. Repeat, the target is awake and ready. Request permission to withdraw."

He waited ten seconds, then called again. "Base, this is Assault Team Leader. Do you copy this transmission?"

"Roger, Team Leader, we copy. Stand by."

Stand by? He needed to get his people out of danger right now, not wait for some desk jockey to decide what he should do. This operation had all the makings of something going bad very quickly, and he didn't want the responsibility for any more serious injuries or deaths on his conscience.

He made a decision. "Base! This is Team Leader! I am aborting this mission and withdrawing all personnel. Repeat, I am aborting this mission and--"

"Ah, negative, Team Leader, negative. Zeus Leader is out of contact. Hold your position and stand by."

"No, you idiot! They know we're here and they're ready! I don't want--"

A single rifle shot rang out from one of the windows in the upper story of the house. Randy looked up but couldn't see where it had come from or where it had been aimed, and before he could switch frequencies to call to his team leaders, at least four of his people opened up on the house.

Each of the shooters aimed his or her military-grade M16 and sent two three-round bursts of fire on the target, just as they'd been trained. When the bullets stopped flying, the second front window from the garage side of the house on the upper level had been reduced to glass fragments and shredded wood chips.

He finally got the frequency switch set correctly. "Cease fire! Repeat, cease fire! Move back and take cover!"

"Boss!" called a frantic voice. "Denise is hit! They shot Denise!"

"Get a hold of yourself! Team leaders, check your people now and report in! Everybody else get off the comm net! And stay off!"

He sensed as much as he heard his people shuffling backwards away from the house. Some would shift behind trees, some into natural hollows in the ground, and the team on the side away from the garage would slide behind a low decorative stone wall. Silence descended on the grounds as he waited for a report.

"Team Leader, this is Team One. No casualties."

"Team Leader, this is Team Three. No casualties."

Another long moment, then a third voice said, "Team Leader, this is Team Two. One casualty."

Randy keyed his mic. "Status?"

The silence stretched out again. "Officer is -- is dead."

No.

He keyed the mic again. "Confirm last message, Team Two."

There was a pause, then, "Message confirmed. Bio-sensors read no activity. Officer is dead."

He'd lost another person. Denise something, one of the new people on the team, one who'd asked no questions during the briefing, one who'd exuded a steely confidence and nodded at each of Randy's points. She'd been young and focused, stern and determined, clear-eyed and eager to do her job.

Now she was dead. And he didn't even remember her last name.

He decided he'd weep for her privately.

***

Beth-Ann Reynolds was furious. She almost ripped the headset off and threw it across the room, but instead shouted into the pickup. "Everybody move back and take cover! Now! And check in when you're secure!"

She waited, fuming. She knew, without being told, who had fired the first shot from the house. It was that slightly crazy guy who Nigel was training to be his personal assassin. Paul Snider was a dead shot with a scoped rifle and murderously effective with a knife in close, but he could barely hit the floor with a pistol in his hand. Beth-Ann thought it had something to do with his eagerness to kill someone, anyone, and because of his attitude she'd objected to placing him at the house. But Nigel had wanted his skill with a rifle available to defend Dr. Carlin should it become necessary.

She'd hoped that the people out there were police officers, because they had rules to obey and procedures to follow. Police officers would have reacted to a single shot by moving backwards and trying to open negotiations. But these guys had started shooting right away and clobbered Snider's position without a word or a phone call. And they hadn't opened up with everything they had, shooting wildly all over the house. They'd targeted the shooter's location and stopped shooting after hitting it.

They were well-trained and disciplined. That meant that they were paramilitary, probably mercenaries hired to assault the house and eliminate its occupants. She didn't know who they were, but it had to be someone or something important. Maybe Intergang had decided to stop waiting for Dr. Carlin to respond to their latest offer. Maybe the local mobsters were trying to eliminate a rival, although this wasn't their usual style.

Maybe it didn't matter who they were. Maybe the attackers were going to bring the whole house down around their heads and burn the rubble. Maybe it was time for Beth-Ann to update her resume and find a less dangerous position, like holding targets for beginning shooters at a firing range, or playing catch at a porcupine toss.

The call in her ear startled her. "Beth-Ann? This is Roger. I'm back in the armored closet in bedroom four."

She took a deep breath before responding. "Good. Anyone else?"

"This is Yvette. I'm safe in the kitchen downstairs. Mr. Carson just ran past me to the escape tunnel."

"Who?"

"The gardener. He was raking leaves before somebody started reenacting the shootout at the O.K. Corral."

Beth-Ann frowned. "That's enough, Yvette. Keep your transmissions short and on topic."

"Roger that."

"This is Karen. I'm looking out of the garage. Don't see anyone."

"Okay, you three, hang on," responded Beth-Ann. "Paul? Are you there?" No answer. "Paul? If you can hear me, respond now."

Silence. "Beth-Ann, this is Roger. Want me to go check on him?"

She considered for a moment, then asked, "Can you get there without exposing yourself to fire?"

"I think so. Hang on, I'm going to go slow."

The intercom went silent. As Beth-Ann waited and fumed, Dr. Carlin opened the door and slipped in. She lifted her eyebrows in query, and Beth-Ann lifted one hand in a 'wait' gesture.

"Beth-Ann? This is Roger. I found Snider."

"How is he?"

"They put at least four rounds in his chest and a couple in his head. Looks to me like multiple shooters got him. He's dead as a hammer. And the window is completely wrecked. We can't use it at all."

"Copy. Get back to your position and stay low." She clicked off her mic and turned to Dr. Carlin. "Nigel's pet psycho fired at our guests -- without my authorization -- and they killed him for bothering them. I don't know who they are, but we've got some serious trouble on our hands. You might think about using that fancy new escape tunnel."

Arianna nodded slowly. "Where are they now?"

Beth-Ann turned to the monitor and flipped through the camera views again. "They seem to have pulled back a little, but just to better cover. Wait -- there's one who hasn't moved." She turned to her boss. "Looks like Snider shot straight to the end."

Arianna frowned. "Can you reach them with the machine gun on the roof?"

"What? You want to turn this into a full-on firefight?"

"They killed one of our people. We should respond with force."

"They shot at us because Paul Snider took a shot at one of them! I think he killed whoever he shot at, too! If we start firing a machine gun at them there's no telling what they'll hit us with!"

"If they had heavier weapons, they would have used them already. Go up to the machine gun cupola and try to take them out. The other three will support your position."

This time Beth-Ann did rip off her headset. "Are you nuts? These guys are pros! That machine gun isn't your salvation, it's your death!"

And mine too, she added mentally.

Carlin leaned closer. "Go up there and drive them away. Kill as many as you can. I will not allow my home to be shot to pieces without any response."

"Dr. Carlin--"

"Now, Beth-Ann. Remember who is paying your salary." She paused before adding, "And who pays the salary for the people watching your brother and his family."

Jack. She'd threatened Jack and Jeannie and their two kids. And Beth-Ann knew it wasn't a hollow threat.

She took a deep breath, then put on the headset again. "Hey, gang, it's me again. Any movement out there?"

"This is Karen. No movement."

"This is Yvette. Not that I can see."

"This is Roger. They're just sitting there -- wait, two more are coming across the far side of the front yard."

Great. More of them coming to the party. "Are they carrying anything, Roger?"

"Yes, but I can't tell what it is. Might be just more rifles."

Might be a pool cue or a rocket launcher, too, and she wouldn't bet on them trying a three-cushion bank shot. She almost cursed, then said, "I'm moving to the attic position. When I open fire, all of you aim to the garage side and open up. That's where most of the rest of them are. I'm going after their center."

For a moment, there was no response. Then Yvette asked, "You're going to use the machine gun?"

"Orders. Everyone ready to go?"

She heard someone breathe into the mic, then Karen said, "Ready."

"This is Roger. I'm ready."

"This is Yvette. Are you sure--"

Beth-Ann cut her off. "Get set, all of you! Live fire from the top of the house about two minutes from now."

There was no more chatter. Beth-Ann pulled off the headset and turned to Arianna Carlin. "I hope this works out like you want it to."

Carlin nodded. "It will. Tell everyone to make their way to the secondary base as soon as they can. You'll make the call to withdraw."

"What? Me? Why am I--"

"Because you'll have the best view, and because you'll be able to tell when it will be safe to break away. Now go on and do your job. I'll be listening in but I won't interfere with your instructions."

Beth-Ann nodded and spoke into the headset. "One more item, people. Be ready to bug out to the secondary safe house when I give the word. But not until I give it."

She dropped the headset on the desk before anyone could answer and strode past her employer without looking back. Once more she was putting her life on the line for a greedy, selfish, cruel and calculating inhuman woman who cared for no one other than herself.

Beth-Ann ran up the staircase to the second floor, then pulled down the attic ladder and scrambled up. The machine gun emplacement was set up in the middle of the roof, atop the gables, and disguised to look like a typical old-fashioned rooftop gazebo. But it was well armored and a gunner could cover either the front or the back of the house, along with most of either side, simply by swiveling the gun.

Beth-Ann snarled to herself. Should have taken that job as a bouncer at that night club, she thought. Then all she'd have to deal with would have been drunks and groupies, not armed mercenaries. If not for the threat against her brother, she'd leave right now.

This was no way to make a living. It was just a very colorful and violent way to die.

***

Two more people ran to the command position. A wide-eyed young man slid down beside Randy, puffing from the adrenalin rush. "Yeah -- we got it -- right here -- Candy!"

For a moment Randy thought he was asking for chocolate, but then he realized that the second figure -- a tight-lipped young woman whose face was whiter than any refrigerator -- was carrying a long tube. She handed it past the young man and to Randy, then lifted her head to get a better look at the house.

He grabbed her shoulder and yanked her down behind the slight incline. "Keep your head down!" he snarled. "You want to commit suicide, do it on your own time!"

The young man blurted, "They told me -- to bring this to you -- you'd know how -- to use it."

"Easy, kid, take a couple of slow, deep breaths before you hyperventilate on me."

"Yessir." He did so, then he dragged a shoulder bag in front of him. "I brought eight rounds, too. I can go back for more if you need me to."

Randy closed his eyes for a moment and grimaced at the boy's enthusiasm for blowing things up. When he opened his eyes, the young man was frowning at him. "You do know how to use it, don't you, sir?"

Randy nodded his head. Of course he knew how to use the AT-5 shoulder-fired rocket launcher. It was far better than the old American bazooka and a definite improvement to its single-use predecessor, the AT-4. The Swedish-made weapon was easy to load, easy to aim, easy to fire, and the shaped charge in the projectile it fired was effective against armored vehicles smaller than a heavy tank and against gun emplacements.

It was also effective against houses, which was probably the reason someone in the rear had decided to give him the option of having one. With this weapon, he could drop the house almost to its foundations with three or four rounds. "I'd rather not have to fire it at all, kid," he said. "Those rockets can--"

The young man's head all but exploded in a shower of blood and bone. Randy ducked back and felt an anvil hit his right foot. People were yelling at him from around him and on his comm unit, and he realized that someone in the house had decided to raise the bet in this little game of ballistic poker.

***

Beth-Ann released the trigger on the M60 machine gun and waited for some movement in her target area. She thought she'd hit at least one of the attacking force, maybe two, and as she glanced to either side she saw others trying to burrow into the ground. This was the first time she'd fired this gun at human targets, and it was simultaneously an exhilarating and terrifying experience.

Rifle bullets began pinging off the right side of the cupola, so she swiveled the gun in that direction and raked the base of the trees. The fire from the ground stopped and she turned back to the center. She looked for another target but couldn't spot anyone else exposed.

She tapped her intercom. "Okay, people, everybody get ready to move. I'm going to lay down a long burst at -- Ow! Crap!"

More rifle fire, this time from the left side of the front yard, distracted her. One round had found the gun slit and ricocheted around her position at least twice before finding her left calf.

Beth-Ann howled into the intercom and grabbed her leg. "I'm hit! I'm hit!"

"This is Yvette! How bad is it?"

Beth-Ann yanked a compression bandage from the first-aid kit in the floor of the cupola. "Ricochet got me in the left calf." She tightened the bandage on her leg and groaned. "Hurts a lot. But I'm okay." I think, she added mentally.

She wiped bloody fingers on her pants and turned the gun to the left, then ripped off a long burst into the trees. Before she was firing to keep people's heads down. Now she was hunting them.

The ammo belt ran out and she quickly opened and loaded another. "Okay, people, let's try this again. I'm going to let off a long burst in the center. When I do, everyone fire three rounds at whatever targets you have, even if they're not clear, and then head for the hills. Got it?"

"This is Roger. Check."

"This is Yvette. Check."

"This is Karen. Received and understood. Do you want me to wait for you? Those stairs can be tricky, especially if you have a leg wound."

"Thanks, but no. You guys get out through the tunnel and meet at the secondary rendezvous point. Escort Dr. Carlin to the safe house on the coast and make tracks for the beta site in upstate New Troy." She checked the bolt on the gun again and aimed. "Ready? Fire!"

***

As soon as the machine gun fired again, he opened the rocket launcher and yanked open the ammo bag in front of the dead boy and pulled out a round. He loaded it into the tube and checked the electrical connections from the tube to the propellant charge, then squirmed closer to the top of the rise.

He moved to his left and found a little dip in the small ridge, then looked up and found the machine gun. It was on the top of the roof, and at the moment it was firing into the woods on his right. One of his teams was taking a pounding and he couldn't help them.

Not without using the rocket launcher.

A woman's frantic voice caught his attention. He glanced back at the young man whose brains were splattered on the ground. The young woman who'd come in with him -- Candy -- was shaking the dead boy, yelling at him to wake up. She was crying so hard she was nearly incoherent.

Randy ground his teeth. This had to stop. They hadn't come to this house to kill anyone, but they'd been fired on and had already lost at least two people. Two of his people, Denise something and the young man whose name he'd never heard, were dead. He shifted and pain shot up his right leg. A glance at his boot told him that a bullet had hit the side of his foot, which was now slowly dripping red.

No more.

The machine gun began firing at his position again. He turned to aim the launcher, but not before he'd seen Candy take a bullet to the top of her shoulder. She screamed in agony as Randy peered through the sight.

He pressed the launch trigger.

***

Beth-Ann saw one of the attackers jerk and roll to one side. Another hit. She only hoped it was enough for all of them to get away. She pointed the gun slightly to her left and kept firing.

Movement to the right of her aiming point arrested her attention. Someone was pointing something at the house, so she decided to do something about it. The machine gun spat more lead as it swiveled to attack this new threat.

But before she could walk the bullets to her new target, a puff of white smoke appeared in front of the man on the ground. She wondered what he was shoo--

***

The rocket hit the base of the machine gun position on the roof exactly where it had been aimed. The shaped charge penetrated the light armor around Beth-Ann's position and the force of the explosion crushed her body as if she were a department store mannequin.

Her death was immediate.

She never felt the structure around her give way and fall all the way to the ground floor. She wasn't aware that the roof behind her position was shattered and blown into the back yard. And she didn't feel the rubble from the roof and the second floor cover her body.

Beth-Ann would never update her resume. She'd never get that chance to turn her life around. And her brother Jack would never know that she'd given her life not in defense of a violent criminal, but to protect his life and those of his family.

***

Randy grabbed his comm handset and screamed, "Go! Go! Go!"

Two rifle teams charged the house from opposite sides. One team burst through the front door and slid inside. The other cautiously approached the garage, then leapfrogged each other as they sprinted in. His team, the one in the center, watched the house, ready to give supporting fire if needed.

But there was no more shooting, not from anyone inside or outside. Randy kept listening, not willing to distract any of his team leaders with a demand for information.

The waiting was almost worse than the shooting had been.

Finally he heard a call. "Team two reporting. There's no one alive in the house. One body upstairs in the room where we took fire earlier. The machine gunner is dead, too."

"Roger, team two."

"Team three reporting. No one outside, but we captured one woman alive and unhurt. She did not, repeat, she did not fire at us. The captive is under control and isolated."

"She can ride in the back of the withdrawal vehicle with your team, Three."

"Roger. The backyard is empty. Looks like the rest of whoever was here went out an escape tunnel in the kitchen floor. Thing's built like a watertight hatch on a ship, hinges on the inside where we can't get to them, and it won't open from this side. We'll have to cut through it with a torch."

"Negative, team three. Both teams withdraw to the front yard and link up with team one. We have some casualties to take care of."

"Team three, roger."

"Team two, roger."

As soon as Randy saw his people coming out of the house, he switched frequencies. "Base, this is assault team leader. We have one captive and we need medical help on-site right now. We have several casualties."

"What? Casualties? You weren't supposed to start a war, Randy!"

"You stupid--" Randy controlled himself with an effort. "We didn't start it, you moron, we got shot at first! Now get those med teams here! And send a couple of ambulances right now!"

He pulled the headset off before the controller could respond. Then he lay back and tried not to make his foot hurt any more than it already did.

What a FUBARed operation this was.

Chapter Three

Perry strode into his office nearly two hours early. He was missing the services of his two best young reporters for the next few days while the police and the District Attorney's office got through with them. Most of the rest of his staff was out for the Memorial Day holiday weekend and either weren't answering their phones or were out of town. Alice hadn't liked it, but she'd understood, especially when her boss at the DA's office had called her to come in to her office as Perry was tying his shoes.

He'd wisely refrained from laughing with sardonic pleasure, but he almost regretted his restraint. It would probably be the last laugh he'd get for days. The *Daily Planet* would not fumble this story. It was too big to assign to some thumb-fingered rookie or an incompetent like Ralph, so the job landed on his shoulders.

"Hey, boss man, what's shaking?"

He turned with a start and saw Paula Young at her desk, an unlit cigarette hanging from her lip. "Paula! You're still on medical leave from your heart attack! What are you doing here this early?"

"Same as you, I think. Big story coming down the pike, and you got almost no one here to write it for you." She leaned back and lifted her lighter, then held it close to her cigarette without flicking it. "How's about we work together on it?"

Perry suppressed a smile. "You know Alice won't let me smoke any more. She hates the smell of tobacco on my clothes."

She shrugged. "So I'll irritate your wife a little. But you'll get a good story written."

He let the smile free. "Sounds like a plan to me."

She finally flicked the lighter and lit up. "Good. I already talked to the harbor cops and got their statements for publication. And I have a friend at the hospital where the Connors girl is staying. They think she has a good chance to pull through. Think you can get a statement from the DA's office?"

"If I can't you can buy me one of those Cuban cigars you used to slip me."

She gave out with a hoarse bray that Perry recognized as her laugh. "Done. It'll be just like old times, Perry, you and me against the deadline."

"You think we'll beat it this time?"

"We always have before, boss man. Let's get cracking and find out."

Perry would always appreciate the memory of that day. It was Paula Young's final byline for the *Daily Planet*. He was glad she got to see the story in print.

Paula went to bed two nights later and never woke up, her abused heart having finally given up the fight. Despite her fear that she wouldn't be missed, there were representatives from every major daily paper within a hundred miles at her funeral. Perry's eulogy brought tears to the eyes of everyone attending, including Alice. And Paula would have laughed at the cloud of cigar smoke and the number of empty liquor bottles left behind at the wake following her cremation.

***

Rebecca Connors slowly floated back to awareness.

Nothing made sense. She tried to call out, but her voice wouldn't work. It was as if there was something in her mouth keeping her from speaking. She tried to look around her, but even though she managed to flutter her eyelids and change the level of light she could perceive, no details resolved themselves before her eyes.

The effort exhausted her and she slipped back into the blissful darkness.

When she awoke again, she felt pain. Her stomach hurt and her throat was raw. Her eyes were still unable to focus, but at least they didn't seem to be glued shut.

She could hear hissing noises in the background and a voice over a PA speaking softly. Once she heard several people run past her, but not close to her. She tried to call out again, but whatever was in her mouth still kept her from speaking.

Exhausted, she closed her eyes and slept once more.

***

When she opened her eyes again, there was someone beside her bed. "Oh, good," came a woman's gentle voice. "You're awake, and right on time, too! Let me get the doctor."

Rebecca tried to turn her head to follow the woman's progress, but the tube in her throat shifted slightly and it felt like sandpaper on a sunburn. She tried to speak again, but the tube apparently went all the way down her throat past her vocal cords and she couldn't even moan. She closed her eyes against the pain and tried to remember why she seemed to be in a hospital.

She heard footsteps approaching and she opened her eyes again. A short, thin, young Asian man smiled down at her and said in a surprisingly deep voice, "Welcome back to the land of the living, Miss Connors. Please don't try to talk. You have a breathing tube in your throat, but if you can stay awake for a few minutes, we'll take it out."

She tried to snap her head up and down with enthusiasm, but her head only shifted slightly on the pillow. "Very well," said the doctor. "This will hurt for a minute or so, but you'll be able to talk once you get your mouth and throat hydrated again." He turned to the nurse beside him and said, "Let's get ready to extubate her."

The nurse turned and opened a drawer. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves and helped the doctor don a pair of his own. "You'll need to lie still, Miss Connors. I don't want to hurt you any more than is necessary."

He smiled as Rebecca's eyes widened. "Don't worry, it isn't that bad. I'm told that the actual discomfort is fairly mild."

Oh, good, thought Rebecca, we've already gone from pain to discomfort. Can't wait for it to turn into real fun.

"Your friends will be happy to know you're awake," the nurse said. "That good-looking young man hasn't left the waiting room since he got here. We practically had to tie him up to get him to stay there."

Young man -- that had to be Clark.

It was a good thing the doctor chose that moment to slide the tube out of her throat, or she might have blurted out that Clark Kent was Superman's other name. Not a good idea, especially since she'd just confessed her love to him.

Like that was a big secret to anyone, she complained to herself.

For the next few moments, though, she focused on not coughing her lungs out onto the pillow.

She heard the doctor and nurse talking but none of their words made any sense. There was something about staples and somebody's stomach and blood seeping -- who was bleeding? Maybe there was another patient in the room--

No. She was the one who was bleeding.

But why?

Oh, right. She'd been shot.

The shock of returning memory made her inhale deeply and she gagged and coughed again. The nurse held her shoulders and helped her turn to one side. Nothing came up from her stomach, but the effort of coughing made her entire middle hurt. It wasn't a strong hurt, almost as if the invisible pain was over in the near corner of the room and barely reaching out to touch her belly when she moved or tried to breathe too deeply.

"Feeling better, dear?" the nurse crooned. "We just gave you some morphine for the pain. You can't eat or drink anything yet, but I can give you some ice chips if you want them."

Rebecca nodded wearily, determined to stay awake. The nurse turned and picked up a Styrofoam cup from the cabinet and fished out several chips of ice with a spoon from a small cooler beside the cup, then gently laid them on her tongue one at a time. Rebecca sucked at the first one, then opened her mouth for the second as soon as she swallowed the tiny droplets of water it gave. It made her think of a baby bird begging food from its mother.

After the fourth chip, the nurse put the cup back on the cabinet. "Feeling a little better, are we? You just lie still while I check your output."

Nice lady, thought Rebecca, just a little mixed up on who was the patient. It wasn't like they were conjoined twins or anything--

It was the closest thing to a coherent thought she would have for several hours.

***

Rebecca's eyes fluttered open. The room was darkened and all she could see was the vague outline of someone sitting beside the window. She blinked, and the image resolved itself.

Clark was sitting in the chair, staring out at the night sky. His left arm was folded across his chest and his right arm was braced on it while his right hand cupped his chin. There was a fading bruise on the side of his face and a piece of gauze taped to his forehead just above his eye. He looked smaller and weaker to her than he ever had before.

She tried to speak to him, but no sound escaped her lips beyond a strangled whisper. But he reacted immediately and strode to her bedside.

He smiled down at her and stroked her hair away from her face. "Hey, Becca. How do you feel?"

She tried to smile but shuddered in sudden pain instead. "Hurts," she whispered.

"Your stomach?" She nodded. "I'll call the night nurse."

Her hand fluttered aimlessly as he stepped away, her attempt to touch him thwarted by his quick reaction. "Clark?" she groaned.

He was back in an instant to take her hand. "What is it?"

His touch made the pain easier to bear for the moment. "Don't forget -- what I told you. On the boat, I mean."

That warm smile enveloped her again. "I won't. Now let me get the nurse for you, okay?"

She nodded. He eased her hand down to the bed beside her hip and slipped away. The nurse would come and give her something for the pain and she could go back to sleep.

And when she woke up again, Clark would be there with her. It was better than any dream.

***

Lois sat next to Lex in the hospital's waiting room. She'd been there for six hours, he for almost four, and they had exchanged only fairly impersonal greetings and vacuous comments about the shows the waiting room TV displayed. They hadn't shared anything serious or personal since he'd arrived. They hadn't even discussed their respective experiences with the police interviews, and Lois was worried, both about their legal situation and about their personal relationship.

The station switched from the network soap opera feed to a local broadcast of Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint in *North By Northwest*, one of Lois' lesser favorites because of the fake romance between Cary and Eva. Cary's character had been caught in a near-fatal case of mistaken identity, and Eva's character had more secrets in her life than a James Bond movie had beautiful and murderous women. The parallels between the movie and Lois' relationship with Lex made her uncomfortable.

Just as Cary was being forced to drink massive amounts of liquor prior to the bad guys' first attempt to kill him, Lex' cell phone rang. He looked at the display and said, "Sorry, this is private," and walked to the window away from the other couple in the waiting room. "Zeus here. Area not secure."

She knew what it was about from the first words. It was the report on the raid on Arianna Carlin's compound. Lois listened with growing horror as the report came in: two dead, three hospitalized, two of Arianna's guardians dead and one captured, her house destroyed, and worst of all, Arianna had escaped.

Her first thought was to let Clark know what had happened. But then concern for Lex overcame that thought. He'd slumped further and further down as the bad news hammered him and his face had grown more ashen with every word until Lois feared he might actually collapse.

She stood and walked to his side. As he shut off the phone and slipped it back into his pocket, Lois took his free hand in hers. He started, then sighed. "You heard, I take it?"

"Yes." She rubbed his hand for a moment, then said, "Come and sit down before you fall down."

He allowed her to guide him to a small couch away from the nurses' desk. He flopped down on it and put his head in his hands. "I am such a fool," he muttered. "An arrogant fool. I never imagined that Arianna would fight back against such a well-armed force."

Lois slipped down beside him. "What are you going to do?"

He leaned back without looking at her. "What can I do? The police department in the town nearest Arianna's estate will surely investigate, and they will call in the state police, who will determine that automatic weapons and explosives were used, which will automatically involve the federal authorities, who will quickly determine who was involved in the incident, and it is probable that I shall spend the rest of my life in court trying to resolve this debacle to no one's satisfaction."

She leaned back beside him and took his hand again. "I'm sorry it happened this way, Lex."

He sighed again and rubbed his face with both hands. "Aren't you going to tell me that you told me it was a bad idea?"

She didn't respond to his feeble attempt at humor. "I've already said it. And you know what I would've said had you asked me before setting this in motion."

He nodded. "And you were correct." He crossed his arms over his chest as if warding off a chill. "My only defense is that I feared Arianna would disappear when she learned that Nigel had failed to kill me."

Lois nodded back. "You're probably right about that, anyway. Any idea where she might be?"

"Not really. My intelligence network has identified two separate properties she has purchased within the past three years, either of which might be her new hideout. Or she might simply choose to disappear overseas. She has sufficient funds to slip away and assume another identity, one which would afford her total anonymity."

"Ick. I don't like that idea one bit."

"Neither do I. But it may be preferable to another choice for her."

Lois' eyes widened. "I haven't heard it yet and I don't like it."

Lex closed his eyes. "She could vanish into New Troy's population and reappear to wreak vengeance upon me at a time of her choosing."

"Yeah." Lois shook her head. "You're assuming that she'll find out you were the one who sicced those gunmen on her."

He waved a hand at the TV on the wall. "I have to assume that such information will become public knowledge before very many days have passed."

***

Arianna's fury was boundless. It was blatantly obvious to her that Nigel had failed to kill Lex, and that the assault on her home had been Lex' revenge for that affront. That assault had cost her two valuable employees, and the two who had come to the safe house with her wouldn't stay with her. The third one, the woman from the garage, had never arrived, and Arianna was certain that the woman was already headed as far from New Troy as she could get.

The only one who might stay with her was the older man, the gardener, and Arianna couldn't remember his name at the moment. Besides, he couldn't shoot or drive, and without an estate to groom, he was all but useless. No, her best option would be to slip into hiding alone and wait for the proper moment to reappear.

And she still had the two hackers to deal with, the ones who had broken into her offshore accounts and copied her transaction records. She was sure that they had already given the information to whoever -- almost certainly Lex -- had attacked her refuge. She would keep her ear to the ground and find them also, and anyone else connected to them.

The older man looked frightened. He leaned close to her and said, "Dr. Carlin, what're we gonna do? It ain't safe for you out there."

The man's obvious concern for her touched her for a moment, but then her mind regained control. "There isn't much we can do." She opened the satchel she'd carried from the house and pulled on two latex gloves, then reached deeper and pulled out two wrapped stacks of hundred-dollar bills. "Your best option is to get away from me and stay away. I want you to take this and head to Florida, try to get work there. And use your other name. You can't do anything else for me now."

He glanced at the money in her gloved hand, then looked up at her. "What's with the gloves, Doc?"

"My fingerprints aren't on this money, and I don't want them to be. If the police do stop you, they won't be able to connect this money to me, or you to me, by checking it for prints. It will be one less reason for them to suspect you of any wrongdoing."

His face relaxed into a slight smile. "Okay, Doc, I gotcha. Thanks." He took the bills and peeled off the wrapper. "Just how much is here?"

"Twenty thousand dollars."

His eyes bulged. "Twenty thou-- are you kidding?"

"No. You've more than earned it. Now take this and get going. The others can drop you at a bus station, if that's where you want to go."

He looked at her with sadness and compassion. "Yes, ma'am. I'll just get my bag and head on out."

Arianna watched him trudge away, then turned to the other two. "Roger, Yvette, we've got to split up." She reached into the satchel again and brought out four bundles of cash. "Here's twenty-five thousand each. The two of you need to disappear."

Roger took two of the stacks of bills and slid them into his pants pocket without a second look. Yvette, though, frowned at the money offered her. Unobtrusively, she slid a small pistol into her hand and hung it down beside her leg. "You're not usually this generous with your operating capital, Dr. Carlin. You want to level with us?"

Arianna ignored the pistol and exhaled sharply. "I want the two of you away from me, that's all. If I give you enough money to get started again somewhere else, you're a lot less likely to go to the police because you're broke and hungry."

Yvette licked her lips, then twisted her mouth, and finally nodded. "Makes sense." She reached out to take the other two stacks of bills from Arianna. "I take it you want us to be invisible for a while?"

"I don't care if you put your faces on billboards and advertise your services so long as you don't do it around here."

Yvette nodded again and slipped the little pistol into her pants pocket. "That makes sense to me too. You ready to head out, Roger?"

The gardener's name finally popped into Arianna's mind. "If you'll drop Mr. Carson off at the bus station or train station or wherever he wants to go, I'll give you the keys to the old Buick. It's the car the police are least likely to be looking for, and since it's registered to Janet Smith they won't be looking for it."

Roger nodded. "Good idea. Sure, we'll drop him off. Bye, Doc."

Arianna hated the diminutive of her title. She'd earned her doctorate, and even though it had been a means to an end and not an end in itself, she was proud of it. Lex had insisted on calling her 'Doc Ari' when she'd first been admitted into the PhD program at Yale, and she'd always hated it when he'd called her that.

Receiving her degree the same month as her divorce was finalized had been most gratifying.

She forced herself not to snap at the man. "You two get moving. I don't want to be caught, and I doubt that either of you want it. Good luck."

Roger gave her a jaunty two-finger salute. Yvette backed away holding her cash, then picked up a purse she'd found at the safe house and slid the money in it. Carson smiled wearily at her. "Good luck to you too, Dr. Carlin. It's been interesting workin' for you."

"Thank you. It has been an interesting experience for me also."

Carson turned and followed the other two. Arianna heard the old Buick start up, cough a couple of times, then catch and run smoothly. As the car slipped away, she closed the satchel and carefully stripped off the gloves.

The neurotoxins embedded in the fibers of the counterfeit bills wouldn't take full effect for three to six hours, depending on how much the bills were handled. She figured that Carson would be the first to succumb, since he probably wouldn't be able to stop playing with the money. She wondered if either Roger or Yvette would realize what was happening to them before it was too late, but she doubted it. The symptoms were hardly noticeable prior to lethal exposure, and with any luck they'd lose consciousness while on the road and destroy the car in the ensuing wreck. Unless a very curious and highly skilled coroner examined the bodies, their deaths would then be discounted as exposure to carbon monoxide or injuries sustained in the crash. All she needed to do now was to locate Karen and neutralize her as well.

Arianna hated loose ends.

After that, she had to find out what had happened to Nigel. If Lex had killed him, she'd kill Lex.

Actually, she planned to kill Lex no matter what had happened. The only questions were how and when.

***

Rebecca sighed to herself.

Clark was gone for the morning, talking to the police or some of Mr. Luthor's lawyers or something. Lois had come by for a short visit and left with a promise to come back later that evening. The nurses kept dropping by to take her vitals or check her IV to make sure it was running properly or ask about her pain level and if she needed more drugs, but there was no one to talk to. She'd told the doctor that she was getting bored. He'd grinned – the meanie -- and told her that it was a good sign and that she was feeling better. And daytime television was worse than bad. She had no idea that people treated each other that way in public on those awful talk shows. At least her parents, as bad as they'd been, had kept it in the family and away from the public.

So she was bored out of her skull and planning a breakout when a familiar face leaned into the room. "Hey, Lady Galadriel! How do you feel?"

Rebecca smiled. "Come on in, Morgana. It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too, girlfriend. Harry and Gandalf send their best wishes. We drew straws to see which one of us would come to see you and I won."

"I'm glad you're here. Actually I'm just glad anyone's here. I'm getting bored like you wouldn't believe."

Morgana pulled a chair close to the bed and flopped down in it. "Jimmy told me he'd be here sometime tonight for a little while. He's doing some kind of in-depth research for the paper on Dr. Carlin."

Rebecca sighed. "That's not surprising. He's a hard worker, and he's pretty smart, too."

Morgana smiled and tilted her head. "You playing matchmaker or something, Becca?"

"What?"

"Come on! 'He's a hard worker and he's pretty smart.' You gonna add 'shadchen' to your list of titles?"

"What's a shadchen?"

The tall woman laughed. "It's a Yiddish term for a paid matchmaker. She arranges meetings that are supposed to turn into marriages."

"I thought that was a yenta."

"Nah. Yenta's just a gossipy old biddy. Speaking of gossip, I got a piece of news for you."

"Please, yes! Tell me something that Maury and Oprah don't know!"

Morgana laughed, then dropped her eyes for a moment before looking at Rebecca again. "The Dangerous Boys are breaking up."

Rebecca's eyes widened. "What?"

"Yeah. See, that thing last year with us helping the FBI catch those dudes who were robbing the Russian bankers didn't scare anyone, even when they almost tracked us down and we had to go dark for almost a month. This time, though"--she gestured at the bed--"I'm really scared. Raoul and Philip both graduate at the end of the semester, and they're already looking for permanent jobs. Jimmy's the only one willing to go on, but he's got some protection from the *Daily Planet*. We don't."

Rebecca nodded slowly and thought hard. They'd dodged several bullets in the past three years and had lots of fun. They'd also helped each other and pushed each other in their school careers, and she knew that the doctorate she was working toward would be much farther away if not for the help the group had given her.

At the same time, it wasn't fair to ask them to continue to put themselves in danger. Dr. Carlin surely had enough resources to find them if they started hunting for her, and none of them wanted to end up in a hospital bed recovering from a near-fatal bullet wound -- or buried because of a fatal one. So she was surprised to find that she wasn't surprised that the members of the group were headed in different directions.

"So what are your plans now?" Rebecca asked.

Morgana bit her lip, then said, "I have a good offer from the Chicago Symphony. I start rehearsals in four weeks."

"Hey, that's great! You're a terrific musician. I know you'll do a great job."

"Don't get too excited. It's only third chair and I'll be on six months probation. They want to be certain that I 'maintain the traditions of the orchestra' while sawing away on an oversized violin stuck between my legs."

Rebecca laughed and tried not to let Morgana see the pain, but it didn't work.

"Hey, Becca, I'm sorry! You need me to call a nurse for you?"

"No, that's -- okay. Just let me relax -- there. All better now."

"Good. I'm glad you're doing as well as you are. Um, you gonna have any, um, problems in the future?"

Rebecca narrowed her eyes. "What kind of problems are you talking about?"

"Oh, like, you won't be able to eat certain foods, or you'll have a no-bikini scar, or you won't be able to dance the horizontal mambo with Clark, or you--"

"Morg!" she squealed. "That was nasty, girl!"

"Hey, us civilians gotta get our jollies out somehow."

Rebecca knew it would hurt, but she let the laughter ring anyway.

***

"Recorder on. This is Homicide Detective William Henderson, in the 33rd Precinct of the Metropolis Police Department, conducting an interview with Karen Vollmer, who was taken into custody this morning at a shoot-out in the Metropolis suburb of East Brinkers. Are you ready to begin, Ms. Vollmer?"

"Sure. Let's get this dog and pony show off the ground."

"We're recording this interview for this investigation. Do you understand?"

"Yeah."

"Have you been read your rights and have they been explained to you?"

"Yes to both questions."

"Do you want to call your attorney?"

"I just want this to end so I can get some sleep."

"Please say directly whether you do or do not want your lawyer."

"Fine! I don't want a lawyer! Happy now?"

"Thank you. Please state your full name for the record."

"My name is Karen Denise Vollmer."

"Where do you live?"

"Metropolis, New Troy."

"Address?"

"I get my mail at Riverside Hotel, Ninth and Bermuda. Up until today, though, I was spending my nights at Dr. Arianna Carlin's estate in East Brinkers."

"What is that address?"

"I never knew the address. But you can't miss it. The house has a shell crater in the middle of the roof and for all I know it's still burning."

"Actually, it isn't. The automatic sprinkler system put out the fire before we got there. You didn't know that?"

"No. Those wannabe Green Berets cuffed me, blindfolded me, and hustled me into a windowless van before you could say Bob's your uncle."

"'Bob's your uncle?' Are you English, Ms. Vollmer?"

"No, I was born in Florida, but I spent a lot of my teen years across the pond. Nice people over there. I should have stayed."

"Is that where you met Nigel St. John?"

"Yes. He recruited me my final year in university. Sold me a bill of goods, he did."

"I suppose he must have. Can you tell us what happened today?"

"All I know is I got an alert call from Beth-Ann to--"

"I'm sorry, who is Beth-Ann?"

"Beth-Ann Reynolds. She's our team leader. She was in the machine gun nest on the roof. Hey, where is she, anyway? You got her locked up somewhere else?"

"Let's stay on track, Ms. Vollmer. Please continue."

"Lemme see -- right, we all got into position to watch the front for intruders. I thought I saw some people sneaking backwards when Paul -- that's Paul Snider -- fired from upstairs. A bunch of people from the outside shot at the window he was shooting from, and Roger whose-last-name-I-don't-know went up to check on him and found him dead. Then Dr. Carlin ordered Beth-Ann to get to the machine gun and cover our escape. A ricochet got her in the leg and she said she was okay and I waited for her in the kitchen but she never came. I guess the mercenaries caught her too. By the time I broke for the escape hatch it was closed and locked and a whole lot of people were pointing rifles at me so I gave up."

"Let me check something. You've mentioned Dr. Carlin, Beth-Ann, Roger, and Paul. Was there anyone else in the house?"

"Just Yvette Jones. I assume she got out but I don't know for sure. Oh, and there was the groundskeeper. I don't think I ever heard anybody call him by his name."

"Thank you, Ms. Vollmer. That's all for now."

"Great. Can I get a sandwich or something and then get some sleep? I'm wiped out."

"Of course. I hope you like turkey and cheese on rye."

"Right now I'd take sawdust and shoe leather and sleep on concrete."

"We'll see if we can do a little better than that."

"Quicker would be better if you can do it."

"Of course. You'll have your meal faster than you can say Jack's a doughnut."

Chapter Four

Lois sat back on her couch and turned up the volume on her TV. It was Wednesday, nine forty in the morning, and it was time for Lex' press conference.

She hated that she couldn't stand beside him for support, but he'd insisted -- and his attorneys had agreed -- that she couldn't appear to favor him publicly. Perry had given both Lois and Clark the week off to recover, and he'd informed each of them separately that they were too close to this story to write any of it. The bylines would have to go to others at the *Planet*.

Clark had accepted that decision with a bit more grace than Lois had.

The camera panned back and Lois saw Deputy Chief Roberta Jean Thompson, head of the new Major Crimes Unit of the MPD, standing in the background. She wore a gray business suit which set off her long wavy auburn hair well. Her badge hung around her neck on a classy silver chain, and she wore a glued-on puckish smile. Lois assumed that she was there to present Lex with either a subpoena or a warrant as soon as the press conference was over.

Flanked by his faithful friend Asabi and two of his staff lawyers, Lex walked to the makeshift podium outside LexCorp and began his statement.

"Thank you all for coming. If you will allow me to read my statement in its entirety, I will answer any and all questions you might have." As several of the reporters shouted unintelligible questions despite Lex' plea, he smiled and said, "If you insist on interrupting me, I will simply have to begin my statement again." He paused, then added, "That makes it your choice as to whether or not you make your own deadlines."

Lois smiled despite the circumstances. The man was nothing if not charming under pressure, she thought.

Lex began reading from the clipboard in his hand. "This past weekend, beginning on Friday, I was accompanied by three friends on a long weekend sailing trip, the purpose of which was simple pleasure. On Saturday morning, we received a radio communication from Nigel St. John, who was employed as my personal assistant. He informed me that a vital document required my signature, and because the remote fax machine on board the boat was not functioning, he needed to meet with us so that I could examine the document and sign it.

"He did meet with us, but instead of bringing a document, he gathered us all in the boat's lounge and informed us that he planned to shoot us and sink the boat with our bodies. When asked why he would do such a thing, he replied that he was working for someone else in a criminal capacity and was operating under that person's orders."

"Who was it?" shouted someone from the crowd.

Lex lifted his eyes from the paper. "Shall I begin again, ladies and gentlemen?"

The reporters' collective groan made Lois giggle. It was funny as long as she wasn't out herself there trying to get the story.

"Very well. At any rate, the identity of the person for whom Mr. St. John was working is the next morsel of information in my statement. Oh, by the way, copies of this statement will be released to all interested media as soon as this conference is completed."

"So keep going already!" another person called out.

Lex allowed a small smile, then lifted the clipboard again. "The person Mr. St. John claimed to be working for is Dr. Arianna Carlin." He paused as a gasp came from the crowd, then continued. "For those few of you who do not already know, Dr. Carlin is my former wife. She had a lucrative practice as a psychologist at her office in upstate New Troy, a practice which was apparently a front for her criminal activity. Her patient list included a number of felons involved in an early release program operated by the state of New Troy, from which she may have recruited some of her associates."

He lifted his free hand to forestall any questions. "Once Mr. St. John had gathered the four of us below the main deck, he assaulted one of my guests and shot another. Because of my own incipient paranoia, I had secreted a pistol in my pocket, and I shot Mr. St. John to death before he could slay all four of us.

"The guest who was shot might well have died had Ultra Woman not happened along. Apparently the sight of a cruiser with a runabout tied to it, sitting idly on the ocean with no one topside, piqued her curiosity sufficiently to cause her to investigate. She transported the wounded person to a hospital in Metropolis, where that person's condition has been upgraded from critical to serious. The attending physicians believe that the person will make a full recovery.

"I must pause here to verbalize my great appreciation to Ultra Woman. Had she not appeared when she did, that person might not have survived. I thank you, Ultra Woman."

He paused again as a murmur ran through the crowd, then he took a deep breath and continued. "My security division has, at my direction, mapped out a number of paramilitary operations to rescue those who are either close to me or are vital to the ongoing success of Lex Industries. Under my orders -- and I wish to make clear that they were my orders alone, that no one else advised me on this decision -- my security team attempted to isolate and capture Dr. Carlin from her home."

He stopped and rubbed his face with his free hand. "This operation did not proceed as planned. Dr. Carlin's own bodyguards initiated a firefight in which two of them died and two of LexCorp's security team lost their lives. Their names are being withheld pending notification of the next of kin. Several members of LexCorp's security team were also wounded, but these injuries are not life-threatening."

He stopped and lowered the clipboard. "I take full responsibility for this incident. I admit publicly to sending those people in harm's way, and I alone am responsible for the injuries they sustained and for -- for the lives which were lost. I will submit myself to the authority of our legal system and will abide by the decisions rendered therein." His mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile but couldn't because of the circumstances. "And yes, I'm driving my attorneys insane at the moment, so you need not ask that question."

He lowered the clipboard and sighed deeply. "I will now take questions from -- wait a moment, please."

Lois frowned as Chief Thompson tugged on Lex' sleeve, then whispered to him. He looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded and stepped back.

The woman pushed her glasses up on her nose and smiled sweetly at the assembled media representatives. "Hi there, y'all," she drawled in her honeyed Alabama accent. "For those of you who haven't met me yet, I'm Deputy Chief Roberta Jean Thompson, head of Major Crimes division of the Metropolis Police Department. My friends call me Bobbie or Bobbie Jean. We're kind of a new division, y'see, and we're still findin' our way a bit, but I do have some news which Mr. Luthor hasn't had the opportunity to learn. And I assure you that it is very pertinent to this case."

She pulled a sheaf of papers out of her blazer and began to read. "Early this morning, a man who had died in the Metropolis interstate bus terminal early Monday morning was identified as Bradley Carson. Mr. Carson was most recently employed as the groundskeeper at the estate of Dr. Arianna Carlin. The-- y'all hold on and I'll try to answer your questions, okay?" She smiled sweetly until the crowd calmed down. "Mr. Carson's death was, at first, assumed to be due to a heart attack, but one of the transportation officers who responded to the report of his death fell ill the next day and nearly died himself. That's kinda coincidental, ain't it? We thought so too. As it turns out, Mr. Carson was carrying a large sum of counterfeit money, and when we sent a sample of the bills to S.T.A.R. Labs for analysis, we discovered that the money contained a poison which was absorbed through Mr. Carson's skin. That's what killed him, and in fact nearly killed the transportation officer." She paused and adjusted her glasses. "We do anticipate a complete recovery for that officer."

She looked at her notes again. "Let's see -- ah, yes. A 1983 Buick sedan ran off the interstate and crashed in southern Virginia late Monday afternoon. Both occupants of the car were dead when Virginia state troopers arrived on the scene. There were no indications of the causes of death for these occupants, and when the Virginia troopers discovered a large amount of cash among the victims' belongings, they immediately took precautions and contacted the Metropolis police department. They also sent a sample of the money, which turned out to be counterfeit. It also had the same nori -- I mean, neurotoxin embedded in the fibers." She turned to Lex and grinned for a moment. "Them three-dollar words throw me sometimes, y'know?"

She lowered the paper and swept off her glasses. "We have identified these people as Yvette Jones and Roger Pulaski, known associates of Nigel St. John and Dr. Arianna Carlin. They had among their belongings several unlicensed firearms and alternate forms of identification, along with a cell phone with several numbers which have drawn the interest of federal authorities. Now y'all please don't ask me any more about those numbers because I cain't tell you anything about them. That aspect of the investigation is a matter for the FBI."

A man in the crowd burst out, "You mean this is a federal case now?"

"No," answered the chief. "The FBI and the state of Virginia and the Metropolis Police Department are all cooperating on this case. We intend to capture Dr. Carlin and subject her to the full extent of federal law, New Troy state law, and Virginia state law." Thompson grinned lopsidedly. "This lady seems to have been very, very naughty."

A woman shouted, "So what happens to Lex Luthor?"

Chief Thompson replaced her glasses and lifted the paper again. "At this time, the city of Metropolis is not bringing charges against Mr. Luthor. We believe that he acted rashly but not illegally in attempting to capture Dr. Carlin. His security team trespassed on Dr. Carlin's property, but they did not initiate hostilities and discharged their firearms -- which were legally owned by and registered to LexCorp Security -- only in their own defense. Now, that don't mean that charges might not be filed later on, if we receive information which might justify said charges. The ones what hadn't been filed yet, I mean."

Another woman called out, "What about the machine gun and the bazooka and the tank?"

The chief looked startled. "Tank?" She turned to Lex and smiled. "You have a tank, Mr. Luthor? I'd love to see that little toy of yours."

Lex' eyes widened for a moment and he shrugged. "Oops. I guess we ought not to be startin' rumors," said the chief. Then she turned to the microphones. "As I said, the city of Metropolis is not bringing charges at this time. Now I got no idea about any possible federal legal action. Y'all will have to talk to someone else about that. All I can tell you is that from the testimony we have received from Mr. Luthor -- who, I must say, has cooperated fully with this department -- and from the security team which approached Dr. Carlin's house, Mr. Luthor's team was tasked with capturing Dr. Carlin, not shooting her. Thank you. That's all I have."

She smiled widely and turned to step back into the row of spectators. Lois was impressed. The woman looked like a pushover, but she had steel under her sensibly stylish outfit. Lois suspected that even Ultra Woman would have a hard time intimidating her.

For one of the few times since Lois had met Lex, he looked puzzled and uneasy. He leaned over to one of his attorneys and whispered into the man's ear, then listened to the response.

Lex then straightened his suit jacket and returned to the podium. "Thank you, Chief Thompson. I will now accept questions from the media."

He pointed to a tall man in the middle. "Bret Summers, WMET news! Mr. Luthor, what will you do with your security service?"

Lex' eyebrows rose. "What will I do with them? What do you mean?"

"Will you disband your Imperial Storm Trooper security service and allow the police to do their job?"

"Ah. Touche, Mr. Summers. No, I will not disband LexCorp's security division. The people employed by my companies deserve to be safe while at work or while traveling to and from their jobs. The mission of LexCorp Security is to protect LexCorp's people and physical assets from harm, and they will continue to perform that function. Next, please?"

"Mr. Luthor! Barbara Watterson, *Metropolis Star*! Do you believe that you would be celebrated as a hero today if your mission to capture Dr. Carlin had succeeded?"

Something changed in Lex' eyes, something Lois suspected only a few could have picked up. "I suppose we'll never know that, Ms. Watterson. And I prefer not to speculate. Next?"

"Eduardo Salinas, *Daily Planet*! Do you intend to mount any more paramilitary operations in the future?"

Lex frowned. "No. One of the things the District Attorney has made clear to us is that we are not law enforcement and we are not to behave as if we were. I completely agree with that sentiment, and I have instructed LexCorp security to remove any such plans from the active files and shred them."

"Shred them?" shouted Eduardo before anyone else could. "Isn't that destroying evidence?"

"No, it is not. Those are copies. The originals are held in archive storage and cannot be accessed by any but LexCorp's legal team. We are merely removing the possibility of another operation like the one to which we are referring here."

Lois picked up the remote and clicked off the TV. She knew the kinds of things the media would throw at him. Had she not been involved with him, she would have thrown some of them herself.

But she couldn't get involved in the story. She hated to admit it, but Perry was right. She was too close to it, and too close to Lex, to be an objective and disinterested observer. She cared too much what happened to him, and there was no way for her not to slant what she wrote.

She could, however, do some good as Ultra Woman. She decided to drop in on Deputy Chief Roberta Jean Thompson and offer her official testimony. She hadn't spoken to anyone in authority except Bill Henderson since the shooting, and she thought it would be a good idea to get her side of the story down on paper.

Then maybe she'd fly some extra patrols. Lex would be busy all day, and Lois hated being inactive. Should something happen with Rebecca, Clark could contact her immediately.

Maybe catching a few criminals would help to settle her mind.

Then she had a thought. Lex had told her that one of Arianna's guards had been captured, but no one had mentioned it during the press conference. That meant that Arianna probably didn't know about it yet either.

A sly smile grew on her lips. Maybe Ultra Woman could have a heart-to-heart with that person, just to ask a few innocuous questions. And maybe Bill Henderson could get her in to see that person. As a professional courtesy, of course.

***

Corrections Officer Jack Wilson was beaten. He knew it, and he knew the scary woman in the starry skintight outfit knew it. The only thing he didn't know was how to admit it.

The woman crossed her arms over her chest and nearly gave him an aneurysm. "Officer Wilson, I wish to converse with the woman who was captured during the firefight at Dr. Arianna Carlin's residence. I am Ultra Woman. Surely you cannot believe that she represents a danger to me, or that I would allow her to escape."

Somehow he ripped his eyes away from her chest and took a breath. "Look, Ultra Woman, I know who you are and I know you keep your word. I just don't have the authority to let you in to see her."

"I must speak with her now."

"She's not even in the general population yet!"

The eyes behind the cowl narrowed. "You need not raise your voice for me to hear you."

He sighed. The sense of restrained power coming off her mixed with her apparent total lack of understanding of what she was doing to him by just standing there, all capable and confident and sexier than any of the porn stars in his collection at home. He didn't know how to deal with her.

The women from the DA's office were usually plain -- at least they dressed plain when they came to visit jail inmates -- and he knew to react to them with hands-off respect and eyes at eyebrow level. Some female prisoners were loud, some were flirty, some were violent, and some were like the one Ultra Woman wanted to see, cagey and full of fake smarts. He knew to treat them like a lot of Hollywood people treated extras, the ones they called "scenery that eats." And the few female visitors were no mystery to him either. They were real people, but they cared nothing about him except how to get past him to their loved ones. Those he tried to shield from the worst aspects of the jail and its temporary inmates.

But he had no idea how to deal with this woman, who exuded confidence and sex and power and control and rock-solid determination all at once.

He realized that she'd said something he'd completely missed. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The muscles on one side of her face tightened for a moment, like she was forcing herself not to pull his arms off. "I suggested that you pick up that telephone on your desk and contact your supervisor. If you are unable to grant me access to this prisoner, perhaps he or she is able."

Jack grasped at the idea like a drowning man would reach for a rope. "Yeah! I'll do that."

As he dialed his supervisor's number, he realized that he'd have to get rid of his porn collection. No two-dimensional bimbo on any video screen or printed page could ever compete with the complete, real-life woman in front of him.

The knowledge that he'd never have any chance with her -- not if they were the last two humans alive in the entire universe -- made no difference.

***

Karen Vollmer shuffled into the interview room and plopped down on the chair indicated by the corrections officer. Another conversation with the police, another set of questions, another set of pat answers. She knew that as long as she acted like she was nothing more than a hired gun, they wouldn't dig any deeper and find out just how much she really knew.

That was her ace in the hole. That was her leverage to use against Dr. Carlin when she got out of this stink hole. And she'd use it for all she was worth.

They'd kept her isolated since her arrest, and she was hoping for a new cell. The one she'd been in smelled like the previous occupant had been incontinent, and the odor was starting to get to her. Just because the bed sheets were freshly laundered didn't mean the mattress wasn't soaked with all sorts of bodily fluids.

The door opened behind her and she heard the guard leave. Maybe that meant that the real dealing would start.

But the woman who sat down across from her wasn't a cop or a lawyer. She wore a skintight deep blue outfit dotted with tiny sparkles that caught the light. Her clothes flowed with the movements of her body as if it were a second skin. Even her cowl fit over her head as if she'd been born with it. The clothes might have belonged to a stripper or a hooker, but no one she'd ever known could have worn that suit without looking the part. This woman's body language said she was all business.

It was the eyes, though, that scared Karen. They were hard and dark and angry. And they were staring at her. Just staring.

Karen knew she was fidgeting, but she couldn't sit still. That flat stare seemed to look right through her -- no, it seemed to look inside her where she didn't want anyone to see, where she herself didn't go, into the depths of her soul and her guilt.

It was too much. She couldn't keep silent.

"You just gonna sit there and stare at me?"

The stare continued for a long moment, then the woman said, "Do you know who I am?"

"No. Wait, you're an exotic dancer and you want a job reference. No, you're the new Princess of Wales and you need my fashion advice. No, you're--"

The woman leaped to her feet and leaned over the table. "I am Ultra Woman!"

Oh, yeah, that was genius, Karen, smart off at someone who can fry you with her eyes. Real good choice.

Ultra Woman slowly returned to her seat. "Do you have any more witticisms to offer or are you prepared to answer my questions?"

"Uh -- uh -- I -- uh -- I'll answer. The questions, I mean, I'll answer your questions."

Ultra Woman nodded. "Good. According to police records, there were five people at the estate guarding Dr. Carlin, plus one non-combatant. The names of the armed occupants were Karen Vollmer -- you -- Roger something, you do not recall his last name, Beth-Ann Reynolds, Paul Snider, and Yvette Jones. Is that correct?"

She was going over old ground. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. "Yes."

"What was your function?"

"Me? I was one of Dr. Carlin's bodyguards."

"Dr. Carlin had five bodyguards?"

"Yes."

"Why so many?"

"Hey, everybody's got to sleep and pee sometime."

"So you had rotating duty assignments?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"To keep everyone fresh and alert, yes?"

"Uh-huh."

Ultra Woman leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs in a figure-four pattern Karen rarely saw in a woman. "Tell me, Ms. Vollmer, are you aware of the disposition of your former colleagues?"

Karen frowned in thought. Why ask that one, and why now? "I know the guys who took down the estate killed Paul Snider when he opened up on them. I don't know where anyone else is now."

"I have permission from Inspector William Henderson to enlighten you as to their whereabouts. May I proceed?"

Karen shrugged and the woman kept speaking. "Mr. Bradley Carson -- the groundskeeper whose name you did not recall -- died at the Metropolis bus terminal. He had in his possession a large amount of cash which was laced with a toxin which he absorbed through skin contact. Yvette Jones and Roger Pulaski were found dead in a wrecked automobile in the state of Virginia. The cause of death was the same as Mr. Carson's. Beth-Ann Reynolds died at the scene of the battle. Her machine-gun position was hit by a rocket-propelled grenade and destroyed. She died instantly."

Karen was horrified. And she knew it showed on her face. Carlin had killed them -- had killed them all, even Beth-Ann, just to make herself safe. She was the only one left alive. The only one who could name names and give dates.

And Carlin would come after her next.

"Please!" Karen grabbed the table for support. "Please! You have to protect me! You have to keep her away from me! She's going to kill me if you don't help me!"

Ultra Woman's eyebrows furrowed. "Me? Protect you? Ms. Vollmer, I protect the innocent. You do not fall into that category."

"But I -- I have information! I can tell you things! I know things that will hurt her! But you have to help me! You have to protect me!"

"In truth, Ms. Vollmer, I need not do any such thing."

Before Karen could babble another syllable, the door behind her opened. She stiffened, knowing that Carlin's killer had found her.

"Unfortunately, Ultra Woman," said a man's voice behind her, "I do have to protect her."

Ultra Woman stood and stepped to one side. "There is a chair here for you, Inspector William Henderson."

"Thank you, Ultra Woman."

Karen stared at him. They'd foxed her. They'd scared her so bad that she'd blurted out the truth, that she knew far more than any mere bodyguard should know. All they'd done was tell her some story about Beth-Ann and the rest and she'd caved.

If she spilled her guts Carlin would find out. If she didn't, Carlin would still come after her to keep her from telling all she knew. If the police tried to protect her, they might keep her alive until Carlin's trial, which might be years from now. But without that protection, her life expectancy in prison was next to zero. Karen might not live to be convicted of the lesser charges they'd already brought against her.

Either way she was screwed.

Henderson set the same small recorder on the table in front of her and switched it on. "Now, Ms. Vollmer, let's you and me have a real talk."

Yep, she was totally screwed, all right.

Chapter Five

Lois stomped down the ramp to the bullpen and threw her purse into her desk drawer just before she slammed it shut. Any residual good feelings she'd retained from interviewing the Vollmer woman two days before had gone up in smoke. She looked around for Clark, but apparently she'd arrived at work before him on this day when she needed a listening ear. So she transferred some of her fury to him, just because she could.

How dare he not be available when she needed someone at whom she could vent!

The only other reporter in the room that early on that morning was Cat Grant, who was sitting at her desk and staring at Lois with mild alarm in her eyes. "Lois?" she ventured. "Are you okay?"

There! A convenient target for her remaining rage. "Oh, yeah," Lois barked, "I'm just peachy!"

Cat seemed to shrink down into her chair. "I'm -- I'm sorry."

Lois didn't know if Cat meant that she was sorry that Lois was in a bad mood or if she was sorry she'd asked the question. Or, perhaps, Cat was just sorry to be on the receiving end of Lois' verbal assault. Lois let out a long sigh. "Cat, it's my fault, not yours. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'm the one who should be sorry."

Mollified, Cat sat up again. "That's okay. I'm sorry you're having a bad morning."

Lois stood still, closed her eyes, and counted to ten. Then she opened them and looked into the other woman's face. "Do you have a minute?"

"Um -- yeah. In fact, I have a couple of them."

"Good." Lois pulled a chair close to Cat's desk and spoke in low tones. "My parents and my sister are flying into the city tonight."

Cat waited for the next sentence, but Lois said nothing else. "Your parents and your sister are coming to visit you?"

Lois lifted her hands to the heavens for a moment. "Yes!"

Cat frowned. "And -- you see this as a bad thing?"

"How could it be anything but a bad thing?"

"Um. I guess I'm missing something here, but I don't understand why this is so bad."

"Oh. I guess your parents are still getting along with each other, then?"

"Sure they do. And I get along just fine with them, too. In fact, I'm planning to go see them at Thanksgiving."

Lois sighed. "You're lucky. Mine fight."

"Oh." Cat hesitated, then asked, "With whom do they fight?"

Lois' mouth tried to grin. "'With whom?' Are you taking a refresher course on grammar?"

Cat returned the slight smile. "I almost said, 'Who do they fight with?' but you should never end a sentence with a preposition. That's something up with which I cannot put." She paused as Lois groaned and shook her head. "Now come on, spill it! With whom do your parents fight?"

Lois' smile melted away. "With each other. With me. With Lucy. With each other over me or over Lucy. With me or with Lucy over each other." She leaned back and crossed her arms. "Just your normal, screwed-up, dysfunctional nuclear family unit, every day getting one day closer to a critical mass meltdown."

Cat nodded slowly and cautiously. "Right." She leaned forward and put her hand on Lois' arm. "Is there some way for me to help?"

Lois sighed, long and deep. "No, not really. Thanks for letting me vent. You may have saved Clark's life this morning."

"Glad to be of service. Although maybe you should wear a red hat or carry a warning sign when you're really mad. I'll know not to poke sticks through the bars at you."

Lois laughed with Cat. "I'll take it under advisement." She stood and shook her head. "Now that I'm here and feeling better, I really should get to work."

"Okay. You need to visit the ladies' room first? I have this sudden urge to, uh--"

"I'm fine. You go ahead."

"Okay. Hey, maybe we could do lunch today? Take your mind off your family?"

Lois tilted her head and considered the idea, then nodded. "Sure. You have those dual reservations at that fancy place today?"

"Sorry. Day after tomorrow. What if we hit your uncle's diner?"

"Good idea. I'll call him and warn him that you're coming. He can put blinders on his waiters so they won't be staring at you the whole time we're there."

***

Cat verified that the restroom was empty except for her and went to the last stall. She locked the door behind her and pulled out her cell phone to dial the special number.

"Yes, Ms. Grant?"

The electronically filtered voice always startled her no matter how many times she heard it. "I'm checking in. The only thing I have right now is that Lois' parents and sister are flying in tonight to visit her. She's not happy about them coming."

The voice waited a moment, then grated, "Is that all you have?"

"Yes. Sorry I don't have more, but I wanted to let you know as soon as I could."

"Hmm." The voice was silent for another moment, then resumed. "I don't know if this is useful or not, but I'm glad to have learned it from you and not from someone else. It gives me a bit more confidence in your trustworthiness."

Cat glared at the phone for a moment. Trustworthiness? This from a murderer and blackmailer and who knew what else? She should flush the stinking phone right now! Without breaking the connection!

But she didn't. She couldn't and she knew she couldn't. "Thank you," Cat forced out. "Is there anything I need to know from your end?"

"No. Just keep watch on Kent and Lane. And let me know if White plans any more investigations."

"Will do. What about my balance?"

The sigh from the other end of the line was distorted into a rapid series of clicks and pops. "Is that all that concerns you, Ms. Grant?"

"I am doing this for the money, remember?"

"Of course you are. Very well. Your total indebtedness has been reduced twenty-three percent from the original total. And before you ask, no, I am no longer charging you interest on it, now that you are actively employed by me."

"Thank you. I'll be in touch as soon as I learn anything else interesting."

"Do that."

The connection broke before Cat could respond. She closed the phone and nodded to herself. Arianna Carlin must be desperate to reduce her gambling debt by that much in just a few weeks. Luthor's failed capture operation must have driven her deep underground, which meant that she was probably depending on a few spies like Cat to get her all her information.

She nodded to herself and opened the stall door. It was time to let Perry know how desperate Arianna was becoming.

***

The day was long and uneventful for both Lois and Clark. Neither Superman nor Ultra Woman was called upon to make an appearance, so each of them was able to finish up their outstanding assignments and cultivate new leads from their desks as the job led them. So neither of them noticed the sky darkening until a huge clap of thunder exploded just outside the newsroom.

Cat scurried to the nearest window and peeked around the blinds. "Wow," she said, "I was sure that one hit right beside us."

Jimmy leaned close and peered out beside her. "It's the ones that are the closest to you that either scare you the most or do the most damage. And you rarely see them coming."

Something in the tone of his voice sounded odd to her. She frowned and caught his gaze, but he quickly turned away and turned on the TV in the far corner of the room. The local station was broadcasting a severe thunderstorm warning, specifically for the Metropolis International Airport.

Lois' head jerked up. "Perry!" she called. "My family is coming in on a plane in just a few minutes! Mind if I take off now?"

Perry poked his head out of his office like a Mississippi box turtle. "Go ahead. Will you be okay, driving in the rain?"

Cat watched as some silent communication passed between Perry and Lois. Lois hesitated, then shook her head and said, "No problem, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"You sure, Lois?" queried Clark. "I can come along if you want me to."

There was that non-verbal communication thing again. If Cat had had a tendency towards paranoia, she'd start to feel left out pretty soon.

Lois shook her head again. "No, really, I'll be fine. You go see if Rebecca needs a lift home from the hospital. She's supposed to be released this evening, isn't she?"

Clark nodded. "Tonight or first thing in the morning. But you be careful out there."

Lois nodded. "Don't worry. I don't take chances with airplanes and lightning."

Cat watched Lois close down her computer in record time and scurry to the stairwell. Maybe I should take the stairs more often, Cat thought. Lois runs up and down them all the time and she seems to be in great shape.

***

Ellen Lane gripped the armrests on either side of her seat and closed her eyes. "I'm going to be sick," she moaned.

"Just hold on, Ellen," her husband said as he patted her hand. "We're approaching the runway now and we'll be down in ten minutes."

"This plane is bouncing all over the sky, Sam! We should have gone around and waited for the storm to pass." Ellen put a hand on her stomach and belched loudly. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

From her window seat, Lucy sighed and said, "You won't be sick if you decide not to be sick, Mother. Of course, it could be all those vodka and bourbon shots you had over Ohio and Pennsylvania making you nauseous."

"You leave me alone about that, young lady! You know how high-strung I am! You know that sometimes I need help to relax!"

"If you were any more relaxed, Mother, they'd have to mop you up and carry you off the plane in a bucket."

"Now see here, Lucy Lane! Just because you're going to college in Metropolis doesn't mean you can speak that way to me! Your pilot boyfriend is a bad influence on you!"

Lucy fixed her mother with a laser gaze. "Allen makes a good living, Mother. He's honest and dependable and gainfully employed and he got us this flight at a steep discount. I'd think you'd be at least a little grateful."

"He's just trying to get in good with me! He's just like all your other boyfriends, he just wants to get you in bed with him!"

Lucy sighed as drunken, unreasonable Ellen surged to the forefront. "Fine, Mom, he's just after my body. Never mind that we're talking about getting married next summer. Just pretend he's a loser who's dating another loser whose mother is a total loser."

"What? Why you -- you little--"

Sam patted her hand again. "Now, Ellen, let's just calm down and wait until we land before we--"

"Before we what, Sam? Before we start fighting again?"

"I think Dad would prefer that we didn't fight at all, Mom."

"I'm sure he would! But he's talking to the wrong person! I never-- Yaaaah!"

The plane lurched to the left and tilted sharply, then dipped back to the right again. Lucy turned quickly to the window and saw what she thought were pieces of metal flying out of the engine on the right wing. One piece of metal seemed to pop off the side of the engine and puncture the rear of the wing. Bird strike, she thought, or maybe just debris kicked up by the storm, and a very expensive jet engine was suddenly scrap metal. What a way to go.

For a few moments, flames popped out of the back of the engine, then a plume of thick dark smoke billowed out. A flight steward pulled his way along the aisle and told everyone to tighten their seat belts and bend over while holding a pillow. Lucy's mind flashed on a scene from the movie *Airplane!* when the stewardess told the passengers to assume crash position and everyone in the passenger compartment jumped into different weird contorted postures.

But this wasn't funny. They were in real danger. Lucy knew, from dating Allen and from her own meager student pilot training, that the two most dangerous parts of any airplane flight were takeoff and landing, largely because the ground was too close for the pilot to recover from an error or compensate for a problem with the plane. Allen had taken her to one of the training films shown to pilot instructors concerning low-level crashes, and she never wanted to see anything so violent again in her entire life. It had frightened her so badly that she'd sworn off watching airplane disaster movies. She'd even considered never flying with Allen again because of them.

She almost stopped breathing when she realized that she was in a real-life crash about to happen.

Her mother wasn't the only one who wasn't happy with the way the aircraft was skidding through the air. Other passengers were calling out in fear or shouting questions at the flight crew as the plane's nose dipped sharply and it banked further to the right. The starboard flaps are jammed partly extended and we're going to spin in, thought Lucy, and I didn't get a chance to apologize to Lois for hiding her teddy bear in the tree when she was eight and calling her a baby when she saw it and cried and--

The plane suddenly stabilized. Lucy looked out the window again and saw a flying person wearing what looked like a black jumpsuit under the wing where the damaged engine was now streaming a thinning plume of white smoke. The person -- it looked like a woman -- was signaling to the pilot with one hand. Apparently they were going to attempt a landing despite the damage.

The overhead speaker crackled to life. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have declared an in-flight emergency and are landing with the help of one of Metropolis's superheroes. Please remain in your seats until we come to a complete stop. We will be using the inflatable ramps to disembark from the aircraft. Please follow the instructions given to you by the flight crew. These instructions are for your safety and the safety of your fellow passengers. You must remain calm--"

The pilot, or whoever was talking over the intercom, faded from Lucy's hearing. She was focused on the woman flying under the wing of the airplane. It had to be Ultra Woman! No one else could do what she was doing, except of course Superman, and this certainly wasn't Superman. Now that she looked closer, she could even see Ultra Woman's figure clearly. Her arms and shoulders weren't huge by any means, but her excellent muscle definition showed through her suit. Her body tapered to a perfect waistline, and her hips were smooth and solid. Her calf muscles were picture perfect. Wonder if she uses a Stairmaster, thought Lucy.

Lucy was mesmerized by the sight of a woman doing something she'd long thought impossible for anyone other than Superman. She watched as Ultra Woman waved one arm and pointed down, then nodded in an exaggerated manner, probably signaling to the pilot again. Lucy gasped as Ultra Woman shifted position, then reached up and bent a piece of metal out of the way to release the wing flaps. We're in the landing pattern, thought Lucy, and there goes the landing gear, down and locked. There's Ultra Woman shifting back out to the damaged engine, scissoring her legs as she hand-walked down the wing, her leg muscles bunching and relaxing in turn, the dimple on her left buttock--

Oh, no, thought Lucy. Ultra Woman has a dimple on her rear end just like Lois does. I wonder if she hurt herself like Lois did when--

No.

No way!

But--

They were the same build. They appeared to be about the same height, although estimating Ultra Woman's height was difficult under these circumstances. But Lucy had stood under a Boeing 747 wing with Allen more than once, so she did have some experience with the size of the engines. They looked to be about the same height--

No! Her sister couldn't be Ultra Woman! Impossible!

And then the woman flying under the plane lifted her face and appeared to scan along the passenger compartment, and when her eyes found Lucy's, she stopped for a moment and almost seemed to relax. Then Ultra Woman's gaze continued along the side of the plane and she nodded to herself.

Those were Lois' eyes behind that mask.

Lucy turned in her seat and tried to look to the back of the plane, but she was too short to see over the seat back. As she twisted, her mother grabbed her arm in terror and blurted out, "We're going to die I'm so sorry it's all your father's fault take care of my parakeets--"

"Ellen! Calm down! Ultra Woman is helping us land! We're going to be fine!"

"Oh, yes, it's just like you to get a woman to help you, isn't it? Just wait till we get to the hotel! You'll pay for this, oh yes you will, Doctor Samuel Lane!"

Lucy almost leaned over to say, Don't worry, Mom, Lois is landing the plane, but at the last second she realized how stupid that sounded. There was no way Lois was flying under the wing and helping them land. It wasn't possible.

Lucy looked out the window again and was stunned to recognize her sister's profile under Ultra Woman's mask as the heroine helped guide the plane to a soft touchdown and smooth landing. She peered closer and saw Lois' exotic eyes -- eyes of which she'd always been jealous -- blink twice as they looked into the cockpit once again. Ultra Woman -- Lois -- even blew on the tires and got them spinning forward to reduce the shock to that side of the airframe.

As the plane slowed to a stop and the flight crew stood to assist the passengers, Lucy sat back and let out a long breath. Her sister was Ultra Woman! And if she hadn't made the assumption and then looked for evidence, she never would have realized it.

She glanced out the window once more and saw the heroine staring at the engine as if checking for a fire. She floated down, spoke briefly to two of the emergency workers, then lifted up into the night sky and disappeared from view. Probably headed to the terminal to meet them, thought Lucy.

She wondered if Superman was available and if Lois would be willing to set her up with him. She'd never have to pay airfare again.

***

Lois' apartment door closed behind her parents as they left, still arguing about anything that came into Ellen's inebriated head. The traffic leaving the airport was horrible and Lois had picked the wrong line at the parking lot payment booth and the airline was holding everyone's luggage overnight for security reasons and Sam had forgotten to pick up Ellen's overnight bag from the overhead bin and there was no way for them to get it back tonight and now Ellen would have to buy a toothbrush and toothpaste and hairbrush and a shower cap and no she wasn't going to stay there that night and put Lois to any trouble because they had hotel reservations for the night unless Sam had messed them up too and Metropolis cabs always smelled horrible because of all the drunks getting sick in them and the stairs in Lois' apartment building were too steep and the steps were too tall--

Lois leaned against the closed door and looked at her sister. Their eyes met and they sighed almost in unison. "How did you survive the flight with all that going on?" Lois asked.

Lucy shrugged and sat down on the couch. "It wasn't all that bad until the engines started falling off the plane."

Lois grunted. "I guess that was more fun than you thought you were going to have."

"It was that. I'm so very glad that Ultra Woman was there tonight. She saved a lot of lives."

"I'm glad she was there, too. I wouldn't want to file a story about my little sister getting smushed like a bug in a plane crash."

"So, you already sent in the story?"

"Yes. I called it in while you and Dad and Mom were being checked out by the airline's doctor."

Lucy took a long breath. She wanted to know. She needed to know. She didn't want to find out. She hoped she was wrong. She hoped she was right.

Lois sat beside her and gently put an arm around her shoulder. "Hey, Punky, it's okay. You're safe now."

Lucy nodded. "I know. Thank you."

"For what? For telling you that you're safe?"

"No." For better or worse, Lucy decided to go for broke. "For propping up the starboard wing and landing the plane."

Lois' eyes flickered oddly. "What? For-- I did what?"

Lucy turned and faced Lois directly. "You're Ultra Woman, aren't you?"

Lois said nothing, but her eyes nearly popped out of her head and her lower jaw all but fell away from her mouth. "It's true, isn't it?" insisted Lucy. "I saw your butt."

Lois snorted and snapped her mouth shut. "What? You saw my butt? What in the world are you talking about?"

Lucy stood and stepped to the middle of the room. "When we were kids, I hid your teddy bear up in the tree in Mr. Wilson's front yard across the street, remember? You climbed up to get it but you fell and hurt your leg. You have a permanent dimple in your left butt cheek from a root you fell on that dug a little chunk of meat out of the muscle and the doctor said that you'd be okay but that you'd have that dimple for the rest of your life." Lucy tried to smile. "I saw that same dimple on Ultra Woman just a little while ago when she was flying under the wing of the plane."

Lois stared at her. "I'm right, aren't I?" insisted Lucy. "You are Ultra Woman."

Lois waved her hands helplessly. "Lucy, I--"

"No, it's okay, I won't tell anyone, not ever. Not even Mom and Dad." Lucy blew air past her lips. "Especially not Dad, and most very especially not Mom. They'd never understand."

Lois slowly leaned back on the couch and put her hands in her lap. "Do you understand? Why I didn't tell you before, I mean."

Lucy found a chair and sat down. "Well -- yes, I think so. We haven't been all that close lately, and this is a humongous secret, and it's important for you to keep it or you would've told everyone by now."

Lois nodded. "That's all true. Except that the main reason I didn't tell you wasn't because I don't trust you with it -- because I do -- but because I wasn't sure how to tell you."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that now. And unless you've been showing everybody your bare butt as yourself, which I seriously doubt you have been, I don't think anyone else will be able to figure out who you are -- I mean, who else you are. At least, not like I did."

Lois nodded again and smiled ruefully. "He warned me not to get rid of the cape."

"What? Who told you that?"

"Superman, of course. The cape would have covered--"

"Superman!" Lucy leaped to her feet. "You know him? Duh, of course you know him! Ultra Woman works with Superman! Yikes! My sister knows Superman! Oh, Lois, wow, wow, wow--"

Lucy started bouncing in place and fanning herself with her hands. "Can I meet him? Please, Sis, can I meet him? I mean, he's so cool and so -- so super! And he's hot! Oh, he's so hot! Is he dating anyone? Oh, crap, are you dating him? Are you and he -- do you -- like up in the air and -- ew! You don't do him in the air, do you?"

Lois stood and planted her fists on her hips. "Lucy Lane! No, I'm not dating Superman! I'm not 'doing' him, either on the ground or in the air or anywhere else! And I'm certainly not joining the mile-high club with him! I can't believe you -- no, after knowing you for nineteen years I can believe it! Whatever happened to Allen?"

"Allen who?"

"Allen Peterson, your boyfriend! The pilot you wrote about in your last two letters! The guy you flew with from California to Texas and back again!"

"Oh, yeah, that Allen. He's still my boyfriend, but he wouldn't mind if I -- if Superman and I -- oh, nuts. Maybe he would mind after all."

Lois held her sister's gaze for a long moment, then snorted out a laugh. "Well, I guess you wouldn't be Lucy Lane if your mind didn't swerve into the gutter on a regular basis."

Lucy ducked her gaze. "I'm sorry, Lois, really. But you have to admit that it's an interesting thought."

Lois' eyebrow rose. "I'm not sure Superman would agree with you." She took Lucy's hands and tugged her back down to the couch. "Now, I'm sure you have some questions for me. I'll answer anything I can."

"Okay." Lucy thought for a moment, then asked, "How did you get your powers? I mean, there's nothing like that in our family." Suddenly her jaw dropped. "Unless -- oh, no, Lois, is Dad -- I mean, did Mom -- are we -- are you really my – my half-sister?"

It was Lois' turn to drop her jaw. "What? No! How could you -- no, wait, I can see exactly how you could come up with that question. No, as far as I know, you and I are twisted branches of the same gnarled family tree."

"Oh. Then -- how did you get your powers?"

Lois sighed. "I don't know. And I'm not dodging the question, either. I can't tell you because I really don't know. It was like -- like Superman's powers were copied to me somehow."

"Oh." Lucy nodded slowly. "Um. I don't know what to ask you now."

"Then why don't you get some sleep? You may not feel it now, but you're going to be exhausted tomorrow. Besides, I do still have to go to work in the morning."

"But I'm not tired!"

"But I am."

Lucy frowned. "How can Ultra Woman be tired?"

Lois shook her head and smiled. "Because I'm still human and I need my sleep. I'm going to let you sleep in tomorrow. Call me when you wake up, okay? We'll have lunch, assuming you get up in time."

"Oh, I'll have to. I need to get used to getting up early for class."

Lois stopped and stared. "Class? What class?"

"College." Lois didn't register any recognition. "My college classes?" Still no response. "My college classes that I'm going to be attending while living with you?"

Lois jumped to her feet and leaned over her sister. "You WHAT?"

Okay, thought Lucy, that got a response. She all but whispered, "I guess Mom didn't tell you why we were coming?"

Lois moved back a step and put her hands against the sides of her head. "No, she didn't, I thought it was just a family visit, but let me guess. You're supposed to live with me while you go to school and Mom and Dad pay for it and give you an allowance and I'm just pleased as punch with the whole idea. That about it?"

"Well, yeah, except for the part about you being so happy to have me living with you." Lois snorted and dropped her hands. "Hey, Sis, it wasn't my idea! Mom insisted that I live with you. You're supposed to protect me and keep me out of trouble." Lucy shook her head. "I guess I'd better be good if I'm going to be reporting to Ultra Woman."

"Lucy -- no." Lois crossed her arms and took a deep breath. "I don't want to have this conversation right now. Let's get some sleep and talk about this in the morning. I assume that Mom and Dad aren't leaving first thing tomorrow?"

"I don't think so. But then, I thought they'd already cleared this whole thing with you, too, so maybe I'm not in the loop after all."

Lois bit her lower lip for a moment, then said, "We'll all have lunch together tomorrow. And we'll hammer this out with them then."

"Okay, Sis." Lucy sat back and released a jaw-cracking yawn. "Wow. I guess I am tired after all."

"I'm not a bit surprised. You want to share the bedroom with me or would you rather use the fold-out couch? It's not all that comfortable, but it's more private."

"I think I'll take the couch if you don't mind showing me where the linens are."

Lois grinned. "No problem."

Lucy stood and followed her sister to a closet. She hesitated for a moment, then said, "Lois? I'm sorry."

"About what?"

Lucy took the pillows and blanket. "About all this."

"You're not a burden, Punky, if that's what you're thinking."

"No. I'm sorry that Mom and Dad didn't include you in their plans."

Lois hesitated, then picked up a fitted sheet and two pillowcases. "It's fine. I'm used to it by now."

"You shouldn't be. It isn't right. If you don't want me to stay with you, I'll back you up at lunch tomorrow. I don't mind living on campus. Might be fun, actually."

Lois shrugged. "If you want to, that's okay with me. But it's also okay with me if you stay here." She pulled the cushions off the couch and unfolded it into a bed. "As long as we establish some ground rules and stay with them."

Lucy grinned. "No problem. Really. Hey, why don't we use this to press for a bigger allowance for me? I'll split the increase with you."

Lois laughed. "That's my little sister, always with an angle."

"Okay then, we'll leverage an allowance for you, too, just for putting up with me."

They laughed together. "Lucy Lane, you are the most devious, least trustworthy, and by far the sneakiest little sister in the world. You'd make a wonderful reporter."

Chapter Six

Clark opened the door to Rebecca's hospital room and cautiously peeked in. "Is everybody decent this time?"

Both Rebecca and the nurse laughed. "Yes, Mr. Kent," answered the nurse, "we're all decently covered."

"Good," he sighed dramatically. "I wouldn't want to be arrested for being a Peeping Tom."

"Or a Peeping Clark," added Rebecca.

The nurse patted her hand. "You're doing very well, Ms. Connors. I think you'll be able to leave tomorrow or the next day, but of course that's the doctor's decision, not mine. Do you have some place to go where you'll have some in-home care for a few days, or should I make some calls for you?"

Rebecca gestured toward Clark. "He insists he's going to take care of me. And my employer has already arranged for a nurse and therapist."

"Well, that's just fine, Mr. Kent. Do you know what all you'll need to do?"

He smiled and nodded. "I think so, yes. Assuming she's released tomorrow, when will she be able to travel?"

The nurse's smile faded. "Travel? Oh, no, Mr. Kent! She won't be able to sit up long enough for a car trip for some time, and flying is completely out of the question, what with the changes in air pressure and her limited mobility and--"

"Ultra Woman has volunteered to fly her to a place where she can rest and recuperate, assuming the doctor clears her to go. And she'll have twenty-four hour care from the start and a qualified physical therapist, I promise."

"Oh." The nurse apparently didn't know how to process that information. "Well -- I'll have to inform Dr. Gaddis. This may change what he plans to prescribe for Ms. Connors."

Clark smiled and nodded again. "I understand. I promise that she won't do anything the doctor tells her not to do."

"Hey!" Rebecca snapped. "I'm right here! Don't talk about me like I'm a piece of meat, okay? Besides, I've been in this bed for five days, and I'm ready to look at some different walls."

Clark tried to muffle a laugh but only snorted. "That reminds me of something. Do you know what Oscar Wilde's last words were?"

Rebecca frowned. "Oscar Wilde, the English Victorian playwright? Got in lots of legal trouble for his dissipated lifestyle?"

"That's the one. He was sick and broke at the end of his life, and he was lying in bed in a cheap apartment in Paris, France, when he sat up and told the landlady, 'Either that wallpaper goes or I do.' He died later that day."

"Last words." Rebecca growled under her breath. "I'm in the hospital recovering from a gunshot wound and he's giving me somebody's last words." She lifted her hands in helpless amazement "Thank you so much for that encouragement, Clark, my dearest. I hope you don't trip on your own hyper-inflated wit."

The nurse raised her hands, palms out, and stepped away from the bed. "You two can fight as long as Ms. Connors stays in bed. I have other patients to look in on, so if you need someone just buzz the nurses' station."

Clark waited until the nurse left the room before he laughed softly and sat on the edge of the bed. "Come on, Rebecca, I was just making conversation."

She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him. "Oh, really? Well, then, I hope I come up with some really pithy, profound, and meaningful last words when I'm on my deathbed. And I hope you're there to record them for posterity."

He ducked his head and looked sheepish for a long moment, then said, "Do you want to know what Pancho Villa, the Mexican bandit leader, said just before he died of an infection?"

"No." She glared at his protruding lower lip and puppy-dog eyes gazing at her over his glasses until she finally dropped her hands to her sides and said, "Oh, for-- Fine! Stop pouting and tell me what he said."

"He said, 'Don't let it end like this! Tell them I said something.'"

Her eyes bugged and her jaw dropped. "That's it?" He nodded. "Those really were his last words?"

"Well, I wasn't there, but that's what the history book says about it."

She snorted. Then she chortled. Then she laughed aloud and pressed one hand to the bandage still covering the surgery site on her belly. "Oh, thank you, Clark! That makes up for the first one."

"I'm glad to hear it."

She glanced at the open door and lowered her voice. "Hey, are you, um, all better now?"

"You mean"--he made a wavy motion with one hand--"am I feeling super again?"

"Yes. Are you?"

He smiled. "I'm back to normal. That's why I've been sitting by the window. The sunlight helps me get better."

"Huh. I wish it would help me like that."

"Sorry, can't help you there." He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. "But let me tell you the plans for the next few days. Everything's ready to go, pending your approval. I won't do anything unless you tell me it's okay with you."

Her eyes clouded and she looked away. "Are you sure your parents won't mind having me around? I mean, they don't know me from Eve's puppy dog."

He smiled and touched her hand. "They'll love you just like I do, Becca. I promise. Why wouldn't they?"

As Clark began describing his plans for the next three weeks of her life in Smallville, she tried not to think about the fact that Clark's love for her didn't appear to include their future beyond that time. He'd never spoken of them being together a year, five years, twenty years into the future, only the length of time her recovery might take.

She didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. And it frightened her more than anything she'd ever experienced.

But there was no way she'd let Clark know how she felt.

***

Lois flew slowly over the city and smiled to herself. She was low enough for people to see her -- a number of them pointed and more than a few waved -- but they couldn't see her expression. There was no reason to let everyone in Metropolis know that Ultra Woman enjoyed flying so much. She'd just pretend that she was flying because it was time for her early evening patrol.

As she passed over the northern quadrant, where the more affluent but not rich citizens tended to live, she heard what sounded like cries of pain. Her hearing focused on the sounds and she flew in a decreasing spiral pattern until she located the source. Then she heard what sounded like a single gunshot.

As she landed softly on a perfect driveway lined with beautiful roses and an ideally manicured lawn, she heard what sounded like a body crashing into and through a sheetrock wall. She swept the house from the far side to the center until she found two men in the living room brandishing shotguns. A man was lying face-down on the carpet near a smashed-in wall. Blood pooled from his chest on the floor. A woman was struggling in the grip of a third man who was pulling off her shirt and pawing at her breasts.

That was all it took.

Ultra Woman smashed through the front door and sped through the room. The two men who'd been holding the shotguns suddenly found their hands empty. One pulled a revolver from behind his pants and pulled back the hammer, but before he could fire Ultra Woman's heat vision super-heated the grip. The man cried out in pain, dropped the revolver to the floor, and fell back cradling his burned hand. The weapon's rubber grips melted and dripped onto the carpet.

The other man who'd lost a shotgun jumped into a flying side kick but never connected. Ultra Woman stepped to one side and jabbed him in the back with her elbow. The dent he made in the sheetrock across the room was impressive, especially where his upper thighs struck a horizontal wall stud. He fell to the floor, silent and unmoving.

The third man threw the woman in his arms to one side and snarled, "Come and get it, baby! You ain't good enough to take me!"

Instead of answering, Ultra Woman grasped a shotgun in each hand, one by the breech and one by the joint of the stock just behind the trigger. She held them up in front of him, both muzzles pointing at the ceiling.

Then she squeezed.

A shell burst in one of the guns as the barrel slowly fell to one side. The other gun fell to the floor in pieces.

The man paled and held his hands up. "Okay, honey, you win. Let me give you my gun."

As he reached behind his back, she dropped the fragments she still held. "You need not bother."

A 'whoosh' of air and she stood in front of him, holding a huge automatic. "What caliber is this weapon? It is quite large."

The man blinked, then said, "Uh, it's, uh, it's a fifty-caliber semi-auto. Cost me almost a grand."

"Has it seen much use?"

"Yeah. I mean, yeah, at the practice range--"

He spun on his toes and lunged for the front door. Just before he stepped outside, he bounced off Ultra Woman and fell back with a thud.

"Were I in a mood to advise you, I would advise you to be silent and await your attorney."

He put a hand to his chest and groaned. "Ow! Felt like I ran into a wall."

"You might have damaged a wall. You cannot damage me. Now be seated beside your cohorts before I decide to lose my temper."

His eyes widened and he crab-walked backwards to the living room. As she followed him, she grabbed the unconscious would-be Chuck Norris by the collar and dragged him behind her.

"Remain here. And that is not a request."

The two conscious men didn't answer. Ultra Woman turned to the woman on the floor and knelt beside her. "You are safe now," she said softly. "I will not allow them to injure you further."

The woman took Ultra Woman's hand and sat up, holding her torn shirt closed with the other hand. She pointed to the man lying against the wall. "My -- my brother," she stuttered. "They -- they shot him!"

Ultra Woman turned and scanned the man with her x-ray vision and saw that the shotgun blast had hit him in the center of the chest. His heart and lungs were shredded and his spine was severed.

She doubted that he'd known what had happened to him.

"I -- I am sorry," she said to the woman. "There is nothing anyone can do for him."

Tears filled the other woman's eyes and she began sobbing. She leaned into Ultra Woman's arms and dissolved into her shock and grief.

Ultra Woman looked over the victim's shoulder and caught the gaze of the large man who'd bounced off her. It would be so easy to rid the world of three more vermin, she thought. It would save the jail's time and money. Their cases wouldn't tie up the courts for months. And they'd never invade a home and kill innocent people again.

She thought about it for a long moment.

Then she decided that Clark certainly wouldn't do something like that. He might think about it for a microsecond, but he'd never actually do it.

So she wouldn't either. It would be a mistake, not unlike the one Lex had made in trying to apprehend Arianna by himself, and she wouldn't repeat his mistake. She wouldn't take justice into her own hands. She'd help to keep the law, but she refused to be the law.

She lifted her head and saw the wall phone lying shattered and useless on the floor. So she reached into her belly pocket and pulled out a super-slim cell phone, then dialed it.

"Nine-one-one operator. What is your emergency?"

"This is Ultra Woman. I need police and ambulance at – one moment." She turned her head and peeked outside at the street address on the mailbox, then gave it to the operator. "I have just captured three men in a home invasion. One male victim has been shot, and another, a woman, has been assaulted."

"I'm sorry, you said you were Ultra Woman?"

"Yes! Now send someone over here before I remove any need for your services!"

She heard a sharp intake of breath and looked at the invaders. The one whose hand had been burned by the revolver was shaking and crying. "Don't kill me, lady! Please don't kill me!"

Ultra Woman lowered the phone and snapped, "Then be silent and do not disturb me!"

The man sank to a fetal position, still cradling his burned hand. His sobs almost outdid those of the woman Ultra Woman still knelt beside.

She lifted the phone to her ear again. "This is Ultra Woman again. How close are those units?"

"They're less than two minutes away, ma'am. Will you stay there until the officers arrive?"

"Of course I will."

"Thank you. Can you tell me if the person who was shot needs immediate attention?"

Ultra Woman hesitated and glanced at the woman on the floor. "No," she replied.

"Thank you. How about the alleged perpetrators?"

"Alleged!" Ultra Woman barely restrained herself from yelling back. She took a deep breath, then said, "They are all here, all three alive. One of them is unconscious and another has second-degree burns on his right hand. And your officers need to know that the third man is very large and very strong. They will need to take precautions with him."

"I will advise them, ma'am. Thank you for the call and for your help."

"You are welcome. Just tell them to -- never mind, I can hear the sirens. Tell them that no one is armed and the scene is secure."

"Yes, ma'am. Please stay on the line until the officers enter the room."

Ultra Woman looked at the victim's sister. The other woman had risen to her knees and had dropped her hands from her torn clothing, exposing both shoulders and one side of her chest. Her head turned slowly until she fixed her gaze on something on the floor behind Ultra Woman.

"Young woman, what is your name? Can you tell me your name?"

The woman's voice was flat and hard. "Lillian."

"Very well, Lillian. Hello. I am Ultra Woman."

Lillian gave her a hard stare. "I kind of figured that out for myself."

"Of course you did. That was silly of me. The police and the ambulance will be here very soon, so please -- wait, where are you going?"

Lillian stood and stepped behind Ultra Woman, then leaned down.

Then Ultra Woman heard a click.

Lillian straightened and pointed the big automatic at the huge man who'd pawed her. "You're first."

Ultra Woman stood and moved in front of the muzzle. "No! Lillian, this is not the way to deal with this."

Lillian's voice was flat and hard. "Sure it is. I shoot them and the cops just take them to the morgue. It was self-defense, Officer. They got past Ultra Woman and tried to kill me."

Ultra Woman shook her head. "That is not justice. That is revenge."

"I deserve it! They deserve it! They killed Mitchell!"

"I know. And I thought about killing them myself. But I did not."

"Why not?" asked Lillian. "You could fly them out to the middle of the Pacific and let the sharks snack on them. You could snap their necks and drop them in the middle of the desert. You could throw their bodies into the sun. They'd never be seen again. No one would ever know."

Ultra Woman slowly moved forward and touched the pistol's muzzle. "I would know."

"Yeah, well -- they'd never hurt anyone again!"

"That is true, they would not. But I am not the one to say what happens to them. I cannot be."

"You're strong enough! I saw what you did to them and you weren't even trying hard!"

Ultra Woman nodded. "What you say is true. But let us say I decide that these men need to die and that I need to make that happen. What next? Whom do I execute next? Another accused murderer? A rapist? A kidnapper? A car thief? A burglar? Perhaps a jaywalker or two? Where would I stop?"

Lillian's hand began to shake. "I -- who cares about the next time? I want these men dead!"

Ultra Woman slid her hand along the action of the pistol and rested it on Lillian's wrist. "I understand your feelings, Lillian. Believe me, I do. But I am not their judge." She gently pressed the wrist down. "And neither are you."

Lillian locked eyes with the heroine for a long moment. Then she let her arm fall to the side. Ultra Woman grasped the pistol as Lillian let her hand melt away from it and fell to her knees again.

Ultra Woman spared a glance over her shoulder at the three men on the floor. The one who'd tried to kick her had finally opened his eyes, but they weren't focused yet. The man with the burned hand hadn't moved except to wipe the tears from his eyes. And the big man was pale enough to faint.

Her teeth ground together and her free hand shook. Just being around these vermin was hard, much less having to say the things to Lillian that she'd said. Those things were true. And she believed them.

But she didn't have to like them.

She heard cars screech to a stop outside and saw the flashing lights. She lifted the phone to her ear and said, "The officers have arrived."

"Thank you. We're in communication with them. You can hang up now."

Ultra Woman closed the phone, then picked up a small blanket from a nearby chair and draped it around Lillian's shoulders as the first officer entered with his weapon drawn.

"Hey!" called the cop. "Everybody just be calm and stay still, okay?"

Ultra Woman slowly put the big automatic down on the floor in front of the cop and lifted her hands as she straightened up. "No one here has a weapon in hand, Officer. I am Ultra Woman."

The officer tilted his head and frowned. "Yeah. I recognize your eyes. But you look different. Did you change your outfit?"

Then she recognized him from the ceremony when she'd announced her affiliation with the Superman Foundation. "You are Officer Michael Torrance, are you not?"

He nodded and holstered his pistol. "That's me. Want to introduce me around?"

She lowered her hand to Lillian's hair. "This is Lillian. She needs an EMT, preferably a female one if there is one available."

Torrance lifted the microphone clipped to his shoulder. "Rhonda, we need you in here right now." He released the button and softly asked, "Was she assaulted?"

Ultra Woman nodded. "I believe so. And her brother is over there against the wall. His name is -- was -- Mitchell."

He turned and signaled to the two officers behind him. The older one moved to check Mitchell's body while the younger one pointed his weapon at the three men on the floor behind Ultra Woman. A fourth officer entered the room and nodded to Torrance, then moved behind the three suspects and fastened handcuffs on each one. By the grunts they made, he wasn't very gentle with them.

Ultra Woman knelt beside Lillian again. "These officers will take good care of you, Lillian. I must leave now." She put her hand on the older woman's forearm. "I am sorry about your brother."

Lillian slowly lifted bleary eyes to Ultra Woman's. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for my life."

It was too much. Ultra Woman all but leaped to her feet and strode out the door, then launched herself into the air. She had to get away from the scene of death and of lives ruined.

She didn't know if Mitchell had a family. She didn't know if Lillian had a husband or boyfriend who might blame her for being assaulted or children who wouldn't understand what had happened to Mommy and Uncle Mitch. She didn't know how many other homes the three criminals had invaded, how many other lives they'd ruined or taken, before she'd happened upon them and stopped them.

And at the moment she couldn't handle thinking about it. She had to get away.

She needed solitude. And she knew just where to find it.

***

Clark gently closed the door to Rebecca's hospital room. She'd fallen asleep without the aid of painkillers or sleeping pills for the first time, and he didn't want to disturb her should Superman be needed. Besides, he had the feeling that she'd gotten tired of his jokes.

He understood. He'd gotten a little tired of them too.

But the reason he'd kept telling them had been to keep other subjects at bay, such as whether or not he returned her professed love for him. He'd steered the conversation toward her recuperation in Smallville -- which he had, of course, cleared with his parents -- and toward her vague plan to resign from LexCorp and focus on her studies once she was up and about again, but not about the future beyond that.

She wanted to talk about that future. But he didn't know if they had one together. He didn't want to lead her on or fill her with false hopes about their relationship.

Yet he also didn't want to abandon her in her time of need. As uncomfortable as she made him feel at times, he knew he would have felt far worse had he put too much distance between them. Had he told her at this difficult time that he wasn't interested in a life with her, he would have disappointed her and made himself feel like a complete heel.

As he strode out into the early evening sunset, he thought about calling Lois to see if she wanted to grab a bite to eat or--

***

That was Lois.

Lois was in trouble. Or was she?

There were no words coming over the link, just an overflow of deep pain and despair. He tried to call to her over the link, but the strength of the incoming signal blocked his outgoing one. He almost chuckled to himself as he realized that he'd described the situation in the way Jimmy might have described a computer communications problem.

And that thought gave him his next move. The link didn't give him her location, and he couldn't talk to Lois, but like Jimmy tracing a signal source on a computer, he could trace the signal and find her.

She felt like she needed a friend.

***

Ultra Woman's sleek outfit didn't seem appropriate for Clark's Fortress of Solitude, so she spun into jeans and T-shirt as she landed on the ground beside the tree. She climbed the ladder and nearly fell on the floor, then leaned her elbows on her crossed legs and put her face in her hands. The old wooden platform with its rough bench and low wooden railing seemed to call to her.

But she couldn't hear it. All she could hear was Lillian's wailing for her brother and for the violation the three thugs had visited upon her. All she could feel was the pain the woman had shown on her face and in her posture.

Lois thought about what she'd do if someone killed Lucy, or her parents, or Lex, or somehow succeeded in killing Clark. She sobbed as she visualized herself pulling that person's arms off, or burning that person from the feet up with her heat vision, or slowly putting more and more pressure on that person's skull until the cranium shattered and brain matter oozed out and she could exert the necessary four hundred pounds of force without blinking--

And suddenly there were strong arms around her, arms which held her from behind but didn't confine her, arms which all but begged to take away the pain and make it all better.

Without speaking, without looking, she knew it was Clark.

Not Superman. Clark. Not blue spandex but flannel shirt and jeans.

Not the superhero but the man.

She wriggled in torment for a moment and lurched to one side, but he gently held her upright and pulled her back against his rock-solid chest. She grabbed his hands, intending at first to yank them away, but instead she held on and squeezed with all her might.

His mouth pressed against her ear and he whispered, "I'm here, Lois. Let me help. Please."

The words pushed over the fractured tatters of her emotional dam and she melted against him, weeping almost frantically. All her fear and horror and pain came crashing out all at once. Tears flooded her face and drowned out any words she might have tried to say.

Lex. Lex' broken plan and the deaths it had caused. Nigel. Being shot in the hand. Rebecca bleeding on her as they flew from the boat to Metropolis. Rebecca passing out just before Lois landed with her at the emergency room and the terror that her friend would die in her arms. Arianna Carlin. Nigel having Kryptonite. Nigel pistol-whipping Clark. Rebecca saying that she loved Clark. Lex hinting that he loved Lois. Wishing for Momma. Missing Lucy. Begging to see Daddy once more, hoping he'd finally tell her he was proud of her. The people who'd died in the lab when she'd somehow received her powers. Desperately hoping that she lived up to Perry's expectations. Lillian. Mitchell. The officers who'd had to deal with the aftermath. The other victims of the three home invaders.

Needing Clark more than she'd ever thought possible.

She almost turned and told him. She almost said the words. She very nearly unlocked the link and sent her feelings to him in a torrent.

Then she remembered Lana and how much Clark had loved her and how losing her had nearly crushed him. He didn't need some needy twenty-something throwing herself at him. He was already dealing with Rebecca and her statement of love. The last thing he needed was another complication in his life.

So she held on and accepted his deep friendship and started rebuilding the fortress around her heart.

***

He held on to her for dear life, not letting her break away and not letting her fake being okay. He didn't know exactly what was wrong, but he knew that she'd been pushed beyond her endurance. And as strong as she was, whatever had triggered this storm had to have been a terrible thing.

As she wound down, he shifted her slightly in his arms to what he hoped was a more comfortable position and scooted closer. She didn't seem to mind, so he stayed there.

And then he realized just how well she fit in the circle of his arms.

Lana, for the most part, had fit against him very well. If he made the effort, he could recall how good it had been to hold her close, how nicely she molded herself against his broad chest. There had always been a few irregularities between them, places where they hadn't quite fit completely, but the good places always overcame the shortcomings they'd had together. And they had kept working on smoothing out the irregular places together.

Lois didn't feel like she had any irregular places.

Rebecca fit against him fairly well, but sometimes she seemed to be trying to mold him to fit against her. Even on the boat, the night before Nigel had come, their kisses had been off-center almost as often as they'd made solid contact. Sometimes he felt as if she wanted him to be her ideal version of Clark Kent and not who he really was.

Lois, he already knew, fully accepted him for who and what he was. She knew everything about him and nothing about him put her off.

But she was involved with Lex Luthor, a man he couldn't compete with except on the basis of his powers, and that comparison would be so unfair as to be off the charts. Clark wasn't poor by any means, but he was pretty sure that he'd never be rich like Luthor. And he couldn't come close to the man's charisma and his ability to charm people into doing what he wanted them to do.

And he had to admit, the man was a snappy dancer.

So he drove a stake into the ground in a corner of his mind and tied his nascent feelings for Lois to it. Lois was a good friend, one who needed him as a friend and not as competition for her heart. She didn't need that kind of complication, especially not now with whatever was tearing her up so badly.

Somehow it felt wrong, even though he knew it had to be the right decision.

She chose that moment to lean away and wipe her face with her hands. She sniffed and said, "Yikes. I must look awful."

He almost said, You could never look awful because you're so beautiful. But he pulled it back at the last microsecond and instead told her, "No. You just look like something very bad happened."

She glanced at him for a moment, then turned her head away and described the home invasion scene she'd walked in on. By the time she'd finished, he understood why she was where she was and why she'd reacted as she had.

They'd moved apart slightly as she spoke but he still held her hand in his. As she finished, he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You did everything you could have, Lois, and everything you should have. I can't think of anything you might have done differently."

"I know. But I can't help feeling this way. That home invasion was just the -- the arsenic icing on the cyanide cake, y'know? It's like all the nastiness I've seen in the past few months just came crashing down on me."

He nodded. "Yeah, it can get you down. And when it does, you have some choices. You can always come here and let it out. You can talk to my parents. They're great listeners. Dr. Friskin is still in town and I know she'd be glad to talk with you. And--" he hesitated, then continued. "And you can always talk to me. I'll always listen."

She turned to him in the growing moonlight and for a moment he thought he'd never seen any woman as gorgeous as she was at that moment. She sat there glowing with beauty and power and he thought he'd pass out if she didn't speak.

Then she said, "Thank you, Clark. You're probably the world's finest friend."

It was the perfect thing for her to say. It might have been the only words that she could have spoken to keep him from making a complete jackass of himself. He smiled back and sat there, unable to speak, knowing that he didn't have the strength to keep from saying the wrong thing.

He hoped she understood somehow.

***

He was right there. He was close enough to touch. He was close enough to kiss. And he was close enough for her to see just how incredibly handsome he was, how massive his heart was, how much he had to give.

Somehow she grabbed the reins of her heart and hauled back with all her strength, all of her power, all of her determination.

It was barely enough.

And she managed to tell him the best thing she could have said under the circumstances.

"Thank you, Clark. You're probably the world's finest friend."

It was also the hardest thing she could have done at that moment.

Then she marshaled all of her super-strength and stood up. "Guess I'd better get home. Thank you again."

She saw him nod and heard him say, "See you at the hospital tomorrow morning. Hope you don't mind carrying the luggage."

She managed a smile. "Not at all. I'm sure Rebecca would prefer your arms to mine any day."

She floated up into the air, spun into her new outfit, and stretched toward the stars.

Maybe she could leave her pain and confusion up there.

Chapter Seven

Martha bustled about in the kitchen, wiping down the counter for the fourth time. She forced herself to stop and step back to check the room once again, sure that she'd missed something which would either bother Rebecca or disappoint Clark.

But there was nothing out of place, nothing that marred the usual cheery welcome of her home. She almost wished for something that was out of place so she could pass the time doing something instead of just waiting.

Once again, she reviewed the preparations they'd made to accommodate Rebecca. There was the wooden ramp laid over one side of the steps leading up to the front porch, the telephone extension they'd installed in the sewing room beside the new hospital bed they'd rented, the metal handrails in the bathroom to assist Rebecca, and the new cell phone they'd bought so Rebecca would always be able to call someone. Again, there was nothing else in the house which would take up the time, the time that Martha wished she could spend doing instead of fretting.

She was so focused on her thoughts that she missed the sound of Superman and Ultra Woman landing in front of the house. The quick knock on the front door startled her into action and she bustled into the front room and readjusted the wheelchair for the fifth time.

She opened the door and smiled at the young woman in Superman's arms. "Hello," she said. "I'm Martha Kent, Clark's mother. Please call me Martha. You must be Rebecca Connors. Please come in. I hope you like the place."

The diminutive redhead smiled and nodded. "I'm sure I'll love it, Mrs. Kent. I'm sorry, Martha. And thank you again for letting me crash into your lives. I just hope I don't get in your way too often."

Superman gently nestled her into the chair and checked the footrests. "Is that comfortable, Rebecca?" he asked. "Are they too high or too low?"

She reached out and touched his cheek. "They're made for Baby Bear. They're just right."

Ultra Woman had followed Superman into the room, and now she stood behind him holding two medium-sized suitcases and an overnight bag. "Can you show me where this goes, Martha?" she asked. "I'm sure you don't want me to just dump it all on the floor."

Martha smiled and turned toward the sewing room, which would be Rebecca's room for the next few weeks. "Right in here. And I hope all of you are hungry. Jonathan should be in from the barn in a few minutes. He's rarely late for any meal, and having a guest for late breakfast is right up his alley."

Martha heard Clark say, "I told you Mom would be thrilled to have you here. Isn't she great?"

Rebecca's reply was inaudible, but the fact that Clark had felt it necessary to remind Rebecca at this late date that she'd be welcome worried Martha. She hoped the girl would relax soon. All they needed now was a nervous house guest, especially one with Rebecca's medical needs.

***

Lois put the suitcases down, then pulled her mask back from her face. "Phew. That thing gets just a teeny bit confining sometimes."

Martha smiled at her. "I told you it would." She opened one of the drawers in the dresser and glanced back at Lois. "Would you start handing me some clothes?"

Lois opened one of the suitcases and took out a stack of Rebecca's undergarments. "I hope she likes the way you arrange her stuff."

"If not, she's more than welcome to rearrange it however it suits her."

Lois heard a 'whoosh' and glanced through the wall to the living room. "Clark just changed into civilian clothes." Then she chuckled. "And he's taking Rebecca outside to show her around."

"Why don't you change too, Lois?"

"Well, I really wasn't planning to stay. Unlike Clark, I've got some assignments to work on. And I have to go with Lucy this afternoon to help her register for her college classes. I think it's dumb, but I've got to be there to verify that she's got a real address and the money to pay her tuition. Otherwise she won't be able to get enrolled as a resident of the state."

Martha stopped putting clothes away and lifted up a tiny strand of material. "What on earth is this?"

Lois spluttered for a moment, then controlled herself. "That's -- um -- a modern example of women's underwear. A lot of people think it's very stylish."

"Like you?"

"No." Lois frowned. "Not like me at all. I had to wear something like that last year when I was undercover at a strip club, and I was waiting tables, not dancing. That thing has less coverage than a cheap insurance policy."

Martha glared at Lois for a moment, then shook her head. "It looks more like dental floss to me."

This time Lois laughed aloud. Martha shook her head once more, then tucked the 'floss' into the back of the drawer. "I just hope she doesn't ever let Clark see it."

"Maybe she's saving it for their wedding night."

For a moment Lois wondered who'd said those words. Then she realized that she had.

She felt her face grow pale and she spread her feet for balance. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out, then did it again.

The sudden realization that Rebecca might marry Clark had stunned her more than she would have admitted. It left a hole in the pit of her stomach that threatened to engulf her heart.

She turned and sat on the edge of the bed, then felt Martha sit down next to her. "Lois, maybe you should say something to Clark about how you feel."

Lois closed her eyes and shook her head. "He just brought Rebecca here so she could recover. I can't get between them now." She rubbed her face with one hand. "It wouldn't be fair to either of them."

Martha patted her shoulder. "And it's not fair to you to deny what's in your heart."

Lois turned and looked through the wall, then smiled. "Clark just tried to slide down the ramp in front of the house in his sneakers. He got stuck on the surfacing and fell to the ground, then did a three-turn barrel roll down to the driveway. Rebecca is laughing so hard she's grabbing her stomach. And Jonathan is leaning against the corner of the porch, laughing even harder." She turned and faced her friend. "You really don't expect me to break up something like that, do you?"

"Lois--"

"And you can never tell him! I want your word on this, Martha! You can't tell him!"

"But--"

"No." Lois held her hand up. "I mean it. I want your word on this."

Martha chewed her lips for a moment, then said, "I wonder if Lana would have been this unselfish with Clark."

"I don't know, but that's not the point. I don't want to get between them. And I -- I don't want to hurt Clark. Not ever."

Lois felt Martha looking into her eyes, rolling back her defenses and leaving her exposed and vulnerable. "From what little I've seen and from what I've heard from Clark -- and from you – I doubt that Rebecca would have said what you did and meant it as much as you do."

"Still so not the point! Please, Martha! This is really important to me."

Martha took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally she nodded. "You have my word. I will not reveal your feelings to Clark in any way, shape, form, or fashion. If he finds out, you'll be the one to tell him."

Lois sighed and looked away. "Thank you. I -- thank you."

Martha sat still for a moment, then Lois heard a car approaching. "Someone's coming." She looked through the wall again. "It's a sheriff's department car. I think -- yes, Rachel Harris is driving. And she's alone."

"My goodness, I wonder what she wants?"

Lois stood and pulled her mask back in place. "Let's go find out."

***

Rachel watched Clark clowning for the young woman in the wheelchair as she stopped her car. They both seemed to be having fun, and Rachel wondered what was so hilarious.

Jonathan walked slowly in her direction, shaking his head and laughing as he came. It must have been a really good joke, thought Rachel. As she closed the car door, Martha stepped out of the house.

Then a frighteningly stunning young woman wearing a piece of the night sky came outside.

Rachel knew, without thinking about it, that she was not bad-looking, and had been described -- on certain special occasions, when the light was low and her companion was being overly solicitous -- as quite lovely. But compared to this woman, she was dowdy and frumpy and looked no better than a sow nursing a dozen piglets. She'd never even imagined herself looking as radiant and ravishing and strong as this woman, and she knew she never would.

Rachel hated her. Didn't know her name or why she was there. Didn't know why she was wearing a bodysuit made from a Van Gogh masterpiece. Didn't matter. She hated her.

She managed to look around at the others in her view, and none of them, including Clark, who should have been tripping on his tongue, seemed to think anything was out of the ordinary. The woman had no apparent effect on any of them.

So, Rachel decided that this beautiful exhibitionist wouldn't affect her, either.

She strode forward and smiled. "Howdy. How's everything with y'all this fine day?"

Martha smiled and walked down the steps as Clark picked himself up off the ground. "Hello, Rachel. It's good to see you. Is this a social call or a professional one?"

"A little of both. I heard in town that you folks are gonna have a house guest for a while, and I wanted to meet her and see if my office needed to do anything special for her."

"I don't think so. But let me introduce you to Rebecca Connors. Becca, this is Sheriff Rachel Harris. She's an old friend of ours."

Rachel touched her hat. "Good to meet you, ma'am."

Rebecca pushed her wheelchair to the top of the ramp, and suddenly Clark was behind her, holding on and guiding the chair down to ground level. Rachel tried not to react, but she'd never seen anyone move as quickly as Clark had just then.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Sheriff," said Rebecca. "How long have you known the Kents?"

"Oh, 'bout since I was in diapers. My daddy was county sheriff for more'n twenty years before he retired and I got elected to follow him. In fact, Clark and I went to the junior prom together."

The girl's face changed as if she'd never heard that factoid and wasn't sure how to take it. "Oh?" She paused for a moment, then continued. "You'll have to tell me that tale some time. We'll have a little girl talk session."

Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel saw Clark's face all but begging her to say nice things about him to Rebecca, and she almost smiled.

Then the stunning woman in black and silver stepped off the porch and floated down to--

She floated down to the ground.

From the porch.

Without stepping on anything.

And then she spoke in a low and melodic tone with a slightly stilted manner.

"Mr. Kent, Mrs. Kent, if there is no further need for my services, I must depart. Please do not hesitate to ask Clark to contact me should you require my assistance."

Rebecca turned her chair to the woman. "Thank you, Ultra Woman. You've been a big help."

Rachel blinked twice. This was the heroine who flew with Superman! And she was right in front of all of them! She was Rachel's hero and she was about to leave!

"Wait!"

Ultra Woman paused and turned to face the sheriff. "Yes? Is there something with which I might assist you?"

"Uh -- no. I mean yes! I mean -- oh, fudge!"

Rachel felt her cheeks brighten as everyone but the costumed heroine tried to hide their amusement. But Ultra Woman stepped closer and said, "Sheriff, I must tell you that I admire you. It requires much from a woman to command the respect of men, especially when one is in law enforcement in a small town. I have learned these things as I have worked with Superman, and I am certain that you are exactly the person who should occupy your position at this time." She reached out and gently took Rachel's hand. "Thank you for serving your fellow citizens as you do."

Rachel quickly searched the other woman's eyes, her body language, her memory of those words for any hint that Ultra Woman was teasing her -- or worse, mocking her -- but she found no such hint. The words were sincere and her touch was both firm and soft.

So Rachel tightened her own grip and shook hands. "Thank you. What you just said -- well, it was just about what I was trying to say to you."

Ultra Woman's stern expression softened and she smiled widely. "Thank you, Sheriff. I deeply appreciate it. But I believe that those who hazard their lives in service to others are the true heroes." She released Rachel's hand and inclined her head in the sheriff's direction. "Should you require my assistance, please contact the Kents, and I will be at your service."

"Thanks. I'll let you get on about your business now."

"It will go better now that we have met. Farewell."

Then she stepped back and floated up into the sky, turned east, and rose out of sight.

Funny thing was, Rachel didn't hate her any more.

Then she dropped her gaze to Clark and decided that he didn't exactly hate Ultra Woman either. In fact, Rachel wished there was a young man in her life who looked at her with that expression on his face.

***

Lois landed on the roof of the Daily Planet and spun into slacks, flats, blouse, and matching jacket. It helped her conceal her costume better than a dress or skirt.

She made eye contact with Perry as she pulled her chair back from her desk. He nodded to her, then redirected his attention to whatever was on his desk.

Time to go to work.

She opened the story file on Ultra Woman's capture of the three home invaders and reviewed what she already had, then added two paragraphs about the victims using quotes from the police spokesperson. She frowned, then moved the new paragraphs further down in the story, knowing that Perry would prefer that her opinions appear on the op-ed page and not on page one below the fold.

She gave the story one more read-through, then saved the file and sent it to the editor's inbox. As she opened her assignment folder, she sighed. She'd been putting this off too long. It was time.

She picked up the phone and called Lex.

He answered on the fifth ring. "Lex Luthor. I hope this is an urgent call."

She tried to put a smile in her voice. "I hope so, too. Hello, Lex."

At once, his manner changed. "Lois! I'm so very glad to hear from you. Where are you?"

"Where us working stiffs have to be most of the day, at work."

He sighed. "I, too, am at work, but of course you know that because you called me here. I'm sorry, I'm a bit... snowed under at the moment. Rebecca's replacement is competent, but she lacks Rebecca's charm and skill in handling impatient people. And I have an interview scheduled with the District Attorney immediately after lunch. He wants to know exactly what happened at Arianna's house and why I sent my people out there."

"I didn't know about that."

"You still don't, not professionally. I don't want any publicity on this until the DA has settled on a course of action."

She hesitated, then said, "Well, I couldn't cover it anyway. I'm involved in the story. But--"

"Ah, yes, that's true. Journalistic ethics can be useful at times."

"What I was going to say was that my boss will be upset when he finds out I knew about this and didn't tell him." She hesitated again. "I have to tell him something, Lex."

"I see," he replied, his tone noticeably cooler. "Those ethics only stretch so far, I suppose."

"Now that's not fair! The *Daily Planet* has always dealt with you and your companies in an honest and open manner! And you've never asked me to violate those ethics before now because of our relationship!"

He was silent for a long moment, and Lois thought he might hang up. Then he sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, my dear. You're quite right, and I apologize. This has not been a good week for me."

"I understand, Lex, really I do. How about I ask Perry to send someone to the DA's office without telling him exactly what's going on? I can just say that I know there'll be something very important happening."

She could almost hear him biting his lip as he thought about it. "Very well. I will grant an interview with this person, assuming he or she is competent and is not a nuisance to me."

"Okay, that leaves out Ralph."

"Who?"

"Never mind. I'll suggest either Eduardo or Dave. Either of them will fit the bill."

"I shall look for them." He stopped, and Lois sensed that he wanted to say more, so she waited. "Lois, I would like to ask you a personal question."

Uh-oh, she thought. "Go ahead."

"Asabi is participating in a martial arts tournament this weekend, and while he has not specifically mentioned it to me, I'm certain that he would very much like for me to be there to watch. Do you think you might be able to get away for a few hours on Saturday afternoon?"

"Uh. Sure. In fact, that sounds like a really good idea. What time?"

"I will have to call you back with the particulars. My office has just been invaded by a barbaric horde of razor-fanged land sharks."

"What?"

"My corporate lawyers wish to speak with me."

She laughed. "Okay, we'll talk later. Call me on my cell phone. I'll be out of the office this afternoon with Lucy. She's registering for school, and yes, I'll tell you all about it when you call. Bye for now."

"Thank you, my dear. Goodbye."

She hung up the phone and smiled. He really wasn't a bad guy to be around. He had a pretty good heart and was mostly honest.

If only he hadn't tried to capture Arianna on his own. He should have left it to the police. And now his actions threatened to come between them.

She pushed back from her desk and walked toward her boss' office. A tip like this would make for a solid follow-up piece. She only hoped Lex wouldn't come out looking too much like a wannabe third-world dictator.

~~~

Hey, J!

Wow. I didn't realize it had been this long between journal entries, so I'll have to bring you up to date. I got shot and

Sorry. That was hard to write. Let me try again.

That tall scary dude who works for -- used to work for Mr. Luthor, that Nigel St. John guy, shot me. We were -- that is, Clark and Lois and Mr. Luthor and I -- were on a weekend boating trip in the Atlantic and Nigel called us on the radio to get us to stop so he could find us and when he got there he pulled out a gun and told us he was going to kill all of us and he had some kind of green rock that

Sorry, can't tell you that part. Anyway, he shot Lois in the hand and hit Clark with his gun and then he shot me and Ultra Woman took me to the hospital and I almost died and

You know, I'm going to have to learn to finish my sentences. Even if they're saying really scary things.

I obviously didn't die. But they told me it was a close call. And I learned something about Clark that -- I don't know what it means. But it's a big, big thing, J, a huge, monstrous, ginormous thing, and it isn't bad and it explains a whole lot of stuff, but it makes a difference to me. It changes things between us, really big time. And I don't know what kind of difference yet, or how big a difference, but I know it changes things between us.

I'm resting here in Clark's parents' farmhouse, doing my recuperating and after-surgery therapy. There's a physical therapist who's going to come over every day for the next ten days to help me walk properly and do some exercises to get my abdominal muscle tone back. Jonathan and Martha -- that's Clark's parents' names -- are great people and I hope I don't get in their way too much. They both told me I'm welcome to stay as long as I need to, and I believe them, but I'm just not comfortable on a working farm. I'm a marine biologist at heart, and the closest thing they have here to marine life is the bullfrogs in their cattle pond. I just don't do cows and chickens very well.

I love Clark. I told him so, and I told him before I learned his big secret and after I learned it. I really do love him, J, but I don't know if he loves me the same way. I want to go to sleep next to him, wake up next to him, come home from studying marine life to find him there waiting for me. With dinner already cooked and a warm bubble bath drawn just for me.

That's kinda silly, I know, but that's what I want. That's almost as important to me as getting that PhD and becoming famous. I'd much rather have all that than have a bunch of kids running around my feet screaming for toys or snacks, and if I had to choose between the PhD and marrying Clark then I think I'd -- well -- ooh, I don't know what I'd do!

It's scary, J. Sometimes I think I'd take the doctorate and the fame and sometimes I think I'd take Clark and sometimes I just don't know. And I always argue with myself over it, no matter which choice I make in my head.

I guess I'll just wait and see what happens. Maybe a rock will fall out of the sky with a note wrapped around it to tell me what to do. Or maybe Clark will decide he wants to marry me and follow me all over the world to help me in my career.

And maybe that rock will hit me in the head and wake me up. Or kill me, which would solve all those problems, wouldn't it?

Good grief. I need to stop thinking such depressing thoughts.

I just reread this entry and I must be more wiped out than I thought. I wrote Clark's and Lois' names together instead of Clark's with mine. Boy, I'm really tired.

Good night, J. The therapist is coming tomorrow morning and I need my sleep.

***

"She's asleep now, honey. She's exhausted."

Clark nodded. "Thanks, Mom. I didn't want to leave the house while she was awake. I thought she might need me."

Martha smiled back, and Clark thought he caught a gleam of something he couldn't identify in her eye. "Don't worry. Your father and I will listen for her."

"Okay, okay. I just need to make a quick patrol in Metropolis. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I know you will. Are you patrolling with Lois?"

"Not on purpose. She had a lunch date with Lex Luthor today, and I don't know how late it ran."

"Really? I thought you two could--" and she wiggled her fingers beside her head.

"Not unless it's important. I don't butt into her private life and she doesn't butt into mine." He leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek. "I won't be too late."

"Have a good patrol, Clark."

He grinned at her and floated to the back door, then slowly opened it as he scanned the area. As he'd expected, the few neighbors who were close enough to see the farmhouse were down for the evening. Rebecca's therapist was coming by at ten the next morning, and even though Clark didn't have to sleep that much, he was tired and needed at least six hours solid snoozing.

Early night midweek patrols were usually fairly uneventful, and Clark found himself wishing for one of those nights tonight. It had been his fault that Rebecca had been shot. Never mind that he'd been incapacitated by that green rock, or that Nigel St. John had taken the opportunity to pistol-whip him. He was Superman. He wasn't supposed to lose. He wasn't supposed to fail.

The patrol was done before one in the morning and he headed back toward Kansas. He was tired and he knew he'd be up relatively early the next day, but he felt that there was something he needed to do before he ended his day.

He needed to talk to Bob.

The mechanism in the floor of the barn still worked as smoothly and as silently as it had the first day he'd installed it. Bob couldn't see him, of course, but he still felt funny in the red-and-blue outfit, so he spun back to jeans and t-shirt.

Bob still rested in his rack, but there was something new underneath him, something that the specifications Bob had downloaded to their household computer hadn't contained. He knelt down to get a closer look.

Then he chuckled. It was a cheap necklace supporting a small heart-shaped pendant which read, "I am Bob. If found, please return me to Kent Farm."

That had to be Lois' doing. Of the few people who knew about Bob, only she would do something so frivolous and winsome.

He put his hand under the globe and waited for a response.

***

<< Greetings, Kal-El. >>

Sorry, no, just Clark.

<< As you wish. How may I assist you, just Clark? >>

Funny. I see you've been taking comedy lessons from Lois.

<< She has commented on my growing understanding of humor. For example, I believe I understand why the small chain she has looped around my support base is humorous. It is because I am extremely unlikely to wander away from the farm and require a rescue. I believe that this would be classed as ironic humor. >>

I'm surprised you don't have a rabies tag, too.

<< I inquired about that, but Lois stated that it might be a bit over the top, as she put it. As it happens, your mother agrees with that sentiment. I believe she is something of a minimalist in her sensibilities. >>

In that case, I bow to the general wisdom and discretion of those fine ladies.

<< I sense your sarcasm, but I do not believe it is at all mean-spirited, only very mildly sardonic. >>

You got it. Hey, how do you feel about having a name tag?

<< I do not 'feel' anything in the conventional sense. I have no objection, if that is what you mean. While it does not contribute to my efficiency, neither does it interfere with my general function, nor does it introduce a source of corrosion to my frame. Therefore I have no reason to protest its location. >>

Looks cute on you. Anyway, I wanted to touch base with you on a few things.

<< Of course. Would you prefer to begin with a financial review?>>

No, I'd rather -- wait, yeah, let's do the financials now. I haven't gone over that with you lately.

<< It has been one year, two months, six days-- >>

Fine! I admit it, I've been a bad boy.

<< That was not my point, Clark. I only wish to be accurate. >>

Let's just get to the bottom line.

<< Very well. The bottom line includes your own personal savings at the Bank of Metropolis, the payments LexCorp has been making to a separate savings account at the Smallville Bank and Trust, and the discretionary set aside for your personal use by the Superman Foundation. That total comes to $915,312, pending the end of trading on the European stock exchanges. >>

Wh -- what?

<< Nine hundred fifteen thousand-- >>

No! I heard you, I just -- you mean I'm almost a millionaire?

<< In the absence of specific instructions from you, I have taken the liberty of investing in a number of businesses and funds which have produced returns far beyond the norm. Since your mandate to me with regard to these funds was to 'take care of my money,' I have invested to produce the maximum return for minimal risk. If this situation does not suit your needs or sensibilities, I can liquidate your holdings over a short period of time and donate whatever percentage you specify to the charity or charities of your choosing. >>

Yeah, I -- wait! I didn't mean for you to do that!

<< I have not. I was merely informing you of your options. I should also inform you that the total I quoted you does not include the money under the control of Digger Enterprises. That fund currently contains $246,000. >>

Wow! How'd you accumulate so much dough there?

<< Low overhead. >>

Low -- wait, that's a joke, right?

<< That was another attempt at humor, yes. You appeared to need a laugh. >>

You are learning. And that was actually pretty funny, in a vaudeville kind of way. Seriously, though, where did all that cash come from?

<< Some $50,000 came from the Superman Foundation. Much of the rest has come from various museums and other dealers in antiquities who wish to find this pottery shard or that sarcophagus. About ten percent of it has come from small investments I have made, but I do not believe that it is the mission of Digger Enterprises to accumulate wealth. At the moment, the Board of Directors is reviewing three separate grant applications, which, if all are approved, will take the fund's balance below the $30,000 level. Do you wish to know the specifics of those applications? >>

No, that's not necessary. Just keep doing what you've been doing, I guess. It's working.

<< I shall. Is there anything else you wish to discuss? >>

Um -- well -- now that you mention it -- yeah.

<< Very well. What is the nature of this discussion? >>

Personal, I guess.

<< You are aware that as an artificial intelligence I lack experience in interpersonal matters? >>

You did fine with Lana.

<< In retrospect, I am uncertain if that is true. During my last conversation with her, Lana expressed regret for some of the actions she undertook with my assistance. >>

What were -- no, don't tell me. If she didn't fill me in, I can't expect you to break her confidences.

<< You and she were married. By the laws and customs of this nation and its various states, as well as the laws and customs of Krypton, I would not violate any confidences were I to reveal my dealings with her. Besides, from a legal standpoint, I am merely a machine and cannot make rational decisions, much less legal or moral ones. >>

Maybe so, but don't tell me anyway. Unless she left a message with you to give me later on.

<< I have no such message from Lana to you, Clark. My apologies.>>

No problem. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Rebecca.

<< Very well. What do you wish to share with me? >>

Um, I kinda wanted to get your opinion on whether or not she and

I should get married.

<< I repeat, that is not a subject with which I am at all familiar. I have no expertise relating to human relationships.>>

So, Ann Landers you're not?

<< No. And I see that you are not above attempting to inject a bit of humor in our discussion. >>

I guess not. The therapist I'm seeing told me that sometimes I use humor to mask my real feelings.

<< Judging by my own research on the subject, that appears to be a statement which might apply to most humans. >>

Well. Anyway, I-- Rebecca and I have been talking about getting married.

<< Is this an outcome which you desire? >>

Um -- I don't know.

<< Were I a therapist, I would ask you to expand upon that statement. >>

Well -- I feel responsible for her, for what's happened to her, for her getting hurt. And I feel responsible for her recovery.

<< Interesting. Are you responsible for her injuries? Did you point a firearm at her and pull the trigger? Did you board that boat with any intent to cause her injury? >>

Of course not! I just -- I'm Superman!

<< Indeed, you are. But not even Superman is without limits. >>

I -- Lois has told me that several times.

<< That is something she has related to me. And it is something with which Lana tried to deal also, but I have the distinct impression that she felt she did not succeed in this endeavor.>>

Why?

<< Why do I have that impression or why did she feel that way?>>

Why did she feel that way?

<< I cannot be certain, but I believe it was because she considered herself inadequate to be the wife of a superhero. More than once she asked me how to convince you that you were not only doing the right things for the right reasons, you were having a positive impact on the city of Metropolis as well as on the entire world, just through your example. >>

Really? Wow. I... didn't know she felt that way.

<< She informed me of that also. I believe she was trying to hide her feelings of inadequacy while learning how to be more adequate. Apparently she was successful, at least where you are concerned. >>

But she wasn't inadequate. I -- I loved her.

<< And she never doubted that fact, at least as far as I am aware. She hoped you knew how much she loved you. >>

Yeah. I did.

<< Good. I also believe that Lana felt as if she sometimes held you back from having an even greater impact on the world. >>

Huh. Didn't know that either. Do you think that's true, that she held me back?

<< My opinion on that subject is irrelevant, Clark. But no, I do not believe she held you back. I believe that she provided an anchor for you, a sense of reality and a place which you could call home. This is very important to the humans of Earth, and my archival data indicates that Kryptonians felt much the same. To be clinical about your marriage to her, she provided a service to you whose benefit to you far exceeded the cost to her. >>

Ecch. That really is clinical. Um, can we go back to my original question?

<< Very well. Let me ask you a question in return. The thought of spending your life with Lana is a pleasant one, is it not? Despite the brevity of your marriage? >>

Of course it is.

<< I did not doubt it, Clark, I merely wished for you to be aware of it. Now please answer this question. Does the thought of spending your life with Rebecca generate similar pleasures within you? >>

Uh -- well -- I--

<< Please do not attempt to temporize with me. I am able to discern when you are not being truthful. >>

Uh -- okay. Well, she and I -- we have fun -- we laugh together -- she's smart and witty and she says she loves me--

<< You are temporizing. My question was not about her feelings or expectations for your relationship, it was about your feelings and expectations. I repeat, and only because you introduced the subject into this conversation, does the thought of spending your life with Rebecca -- >>

I'll have to get back to you on that, Bob.

***

With that thought, Clark all but yanked his hands away from the globe. Then he stepped back and stared at the wall.

He'd asked for it. He'd asked Bob for his opinion. And it had felt like a therapy session, not quite the way Dr. Friskin would carefully and subtly dig under his answers for the unvarnished truth in his mind and heart, but a session nonetheless. Bob would make a good radio shrink, even if he was a bit abrupt.

And Clark still didn't have the answer for his relationship with Rebecca -- or, more honestly, he didn't want to face the answer.

Chapter Eight

"Lucy, don't write so fast! They won't be able to read it!"

Lucy glanced up at her older sister. "Do you have any idea how country-hick dumb that sounds?"

"I meant, if you write too fast it won't be legible. Slow down!"

"Back off, Sis! This is my college paperwork, not yours. And I plan to major in something that doesn't involve writing out anything in longhand. If I can't do it on a computer, I'll stick it in a typewriter."

"So why are you writing this in longhand?"

Lucy pointed to a closed door leading to another room. "Every typewriter in there is booked solid for the next two hours. There's a waiting list a yard long, and I don't want to risk messing up my class schedule."

"What are you majoring in?"

Lucy rolled her neck and straightened. "Business with an emphasis on the entertainment industry, and I plan to add a minor in entertainment law."

"You're going to entertain the judge and jury?"

"No, Miss Snarkyface, I'm going to keep my clients away from people like you. Now please leave me alone so I can get this done."

Lois frowned and snorted through her nose. "You asked me to come with you to help you, didn't you?"

"No, I asked you here to be my chauffeur and meal provider today, so hush and let me finish this!"

Lois shook her head and sat back. Was Lucy acting like a brat or like an adult? There didn't appear to be any real anger behind her words, but she still had that leave-me-alone-I-can-handle-this attitude. Was it a good thing or a bad thing?

She put off that mental discussion and looked around the room. She still couldn't believe how young all these people seemed to be. Had Metropolis University opened up their freshman class to high school sophomores, or was she really that much older than everyone else in the huge room?

She still hadn't decided which option she preferred when her phone rang. "Hello?"

"Lois, my dear, this is Lex."

"Oh, hi, Alex!"

"You're in a public place, no doubt."

"That's right, I am. My younger sister Lucy is registering for classes at Met U and I'm here with her. And now that you have me on the line, what do you want to talk to me about?"

"I have the particulars on that Saturday afternoon jaunt I mentioned earlier today. Are you at liberty to hear them?"

She glanced at Lucy, who was scribbling furiously with her head almost touching the desk where she sat. "Go ahead."

"The tournament begins at two thirty in the afternoon. Asabi's event is scheduled for three forty, but these things rarely run on schedule. Shall we go incognito?"

"Oh, that sounds delicious! I haven't had incognito in weeks!"

She heard him hesitate for a moment, then he chuckled. "Not bad. Of course, we could always meet somewhere around noon and dine together. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Hang on a minute, Alex." She put her free hand over the mouthpiece and said, "Hey, Lucy, are you going to need me for anything on Saturday?"

"My master's thesis, but you can wait until that evening to proof it if you want."

"Ha and ha. I'm serious."

Lucy lifted her head from the packet she was attacking and grinned at her sister. "Naw. You go hang with whoever you want. I'll amuse myself. Might even crack a book or two."

"Thanks, Luce, you're a pal."

"Just remember that you owe me."

"How do I -- never mind, we'll talk about that later." Lois lifted her hand from the phone. "That sounds great, Alex. Lunch will be where?"

"We haven't patronized your uncle's establishment for some time. Perhaps we should see if his cuisine is still as excellent as I remember."

"It's a date, then. Shall I meet you there at noon?"

"At noon. And I shall come as Alex Winfield, computer programmer extraordinaire."

"And I'll be there as little ol' exceptional me. See you then!"

"Until Saturday."

Lois closed the phone and slipped it back into her purse. Lucy nodded and returned to her paperwork, humming something Lois didn't quite recognize.

"Hey, Luce! Are you auditioning for the college chorale society?"

Lucy turned a mischievous grin to her sister. "Don't you know that tune? It's from *Seven Brides for Seven Brothers*. It's the song Howard Keel sang when he was looking for a wife in the town and found Jane Powell."

"Wha -- why would you sing that song now?"

Lucy's grin broke out into a giggle. "Because you sounded like I do on the phone with my boyfriends. 'Hello, Alex! Great to hear from you! Dinner? Of course! Yes, incognito sounds delicious!' Good pun, by the way. Guess it comes from you being a writer and all."

Lois shook her head and gave her a mock frown. "Just finish your paperwork, young lady! Or you'll have to go back for seconds!"

Lucy burst out in laughter, closely followed by Lois. They attracted the attention of everyone in the room, but neither one cared. They were family.

***

Lucy was more than pleased by the time they returned to the apartment. She'd managed to slide into all of her desired classes, had been fortunate in scheduling them all in the morning, and she'd even secured an interview with the campus bookstore manager for a paid sales position. She figured her life experience would give her a leg up on the rest of the applicants, and she could use the money, even if her parents were paying her tuition and fees this semester. Such largesse might continue until she finished her four-year business degree, or it might fade away after a few semesters, or it might vanish like dew in the desert before the next semester began. So it made her feel better to have a source of income.

And it helped to make up for the way she'd crashed into her sister's existence. Once again, Lucy Lane had messed up Lois Lane's life. She thought about the times Lois had gotten her out of trouble, including the night when she'd bailed Lucy out of jail when that high school senior party had turned into a brawl. It was time to make some kind of restitution for all the pain and aggravation she'd caused Lois.

And that payback would start now. "Lois, you can wash up whenever you want. I'm going to start dinner. How does chicken sound to you?"

The reply came from the bedroom. "Sounds good. I'm going to get online and do some research while you're cooking."

"Okay. Hey, Sis, is it okay if I use your laptop computer for my schoolwork or should I hit Daddy up for a new one? We're meeting him for dinner tomorrow night."

"You probably should try for a new one. Mine has a lot of proprietary software on it and the legal division would throw six kinds of fits if they found out you had it on campus. And I'll need it during the day while you're in class, so yeah, you tell Daddy you need a new one. The latest and greatest, too."

"Nothing but the best for his little girl. I've got my eye on one I saw on TV. 'Dude, I'm getting a Deal!'"

"Is that the best one out right now?"

"If it isn't, I'll find out what is. And I'll get him to throw in the best color laser printer available, too. You want baked chicken for dinner or should I run out to the market?"

Lois walked into the kitchen wearing sweats and twisting her hair into a short ponytail. "Baked is fine. I'll go shopping tomorrow before I come home. Anything special you want, put it on the list on the front of the fridge."

"Will do. You want your dinner with parmesan or cream of mushroom topping?"

"My, my, aren't we the gourmet chef now! You weren't this enthusiastic about cooking the last time I saw you."

Lucy frowned. "That was when I was dating Kevin. He was a vegan and insisted that I had to eat what he ate." She made a face and shuddered at the memory. "I lost about twenty pounds over three months and I wasn't overweight when I started. I learned to cook in self-defense and I kind of like it."

Lois picked up a carrot and began munching it as she leaned against the counter. "Hey, I have a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Why haven't you asked me anything else about Ultra Woman?"

Lucy stopped tossing the salad for a moment, then started again. "That was kind of out of the blue, wasn't it?"

"A little, I guess. But I am curious. I thought you'd be full of questions."

Lucy turned to face her sister. "Look, Lois, I respect your privacy. And I understand why you have to keep this all under wraps. I was afraid that if I started asking questions and you told me too much, I might blurt out something in public, something that could endanger your secret." She went back to the salad. "And I don't think I could handle disappointing you again."

Lois stopped in mid-munch. "Wh-what? What are you talking about?"

Lucy's face hardened. "I know how you feel about me, Lois. You've always thought I should have done better in high school. And you were right, I should have. You always ragged on me about my lousy taste in boyfriends, and yeah, you were right there too, none of them were good for me, and you never said -- I never gave you any reason to be proud of me or even pleased with me. And now that I find out you're Ultra Woman, well -- now it's going to be even harder to live up to your expectations." Her eyes closed for a moment and she took a shuddering breath. "But I'm going to try, Sis, I'm really going to try. I'm going to try to do something good and I'm going to try to do something right."

Lois' eyes bugged out and her jaw dropped. "What? Disappoint me? Punky, you know I haven't always liked the choices you've made, but I promise you that you're not any kind of disappointment to me! I'm proud of you, of what you've accomplished, of what you're doing now and of what you're going to do! You couldn't disappoint me if you tried! You're my little sister and I love you! I always have and I always will!"

Lucy suddenly had a hard time seeing the salad. She sniffed back a sob she didn't know was trying to push its way out and dropped the salad tongs on the countertop. Then she felt her sister's powerful arms gently embrace her from behind and she lost it.

They ended up sitting on the kitchen floor, with Lucy leaning back against Lois and crying as Lois stroked her hair and tried to comfort her. They stayed there for a long time, apologizing and forgiving each other for slights and offenses real and imagined, until Lucy's eyes finally ran dry.

They never did get that chicken cooked that night.

***

Lois wasn't nervous at highway wrecks, buildings turned into raging infernos, delicate search-and-rescue operations, robberies, muggings, gang fights, or even Perry's staff meetings. In her months as Ultra Woman, she'd learned not to act nervous in any situation. Sometimes she was anxious, of course, she was alert for surprises, and she was always keyed up to do her best, but Ultra Woman never appeared to be nervous.

But now she was facing her parents across a table at Le Dossier, the most expensive French restaurant in town. And she was almost trembling from nervousness that bordered on stark terror.

As usual, Daddy ordered for all of them without asking anyone's opinion or preference. While they waited for the waiter to pour the sparkling cider -- which Ellen Lane grudgingly accepted -- Lois sat silently waiting for someone to say something, anything, to open the conversation.

Ellen took a dainty sip of water and asked, "How are you two girls getting along?"

Lucy tilted her head to one side and said, "Just fine, Mom. Thanks for asking."

"Now, that's no way to talk to your mother," Sam chided.

"Hey, it's more than you two did for Lois. You just dropped me on her doorstep like a foundling in a Dickens novel." Lucy picked up her wine glass and frowned at it as if checking for uninvited guests. "The least you should have done was ask her about this setup."

"Now see here--"

Lucy cut her father off before he could get wound up. "Look, Daddy, I know that you guys want me to further my education. No problem, because that's what I want too." She sipped from her glass. "But Lois and I are both adults and you can't keep deciding our lives for us. Despite your thoughtlessness, she's agreed to take me in, and now you need to come through for both of us. Do you have any idea how expensive this city is?"

"Wait a moment," Sam said. "We did contact Lois with this plan and she voiced no objection to it."

Lois' eyebrows lifted. "Oh, really? In what alternate quantum reality did this conversation take place?"

"Your mother called you about a month ago! She explained that Lucy needed a place to stay for a while and that we would be more than willing to help with any additional living expenses you might incur."

"Mom called me?" Sam nodded to her. "Were you there when she called, Daddy?"

"No, but--"

"Mom, was this call made on a Thursday night about eight o'clock?"

Ellen frowned and flipped her hand loosely. "I don't remember what day or what time I called! I left you a message on your answering machine. And, as I recall, you never called me back."

Lois closed her eyes and silently counted to ten, then looked at her father. "Mom called me one Thursday night and left me a long, rambling message about family and responsibility and each of us taking care of each other and the machine cut her off in mid-hiccup. I just assumed she was drunk again and randomly calling friends and relatives. There was no mention of Lucy going to school or coming to stay with me."

Sam clenched his fists, then quickly tried to hide them under the table. "Ellen, you told me you'd spoken to Lois about this."

"Well, I did! I left her a message and she never called back."

"Because you were drunk! Ellen, you -- you--" He wadded up his napkin and squeezed it tightly for a long moment, then slowly straightened it onto his lap. "Very well. Lois, I apologize for springing this on you without warning. I should have taken care of this myself. But now that we're all together and Lucy is registered in school, I think we should discuss the financial arrangements."

"Good idea," Lucy said. "I think to start with, along with putting this year's and next year's tuition in an escrow account only Lois and I can get to, I should get an allowance of around four hundred a month."

Sam nodded. "I think that's fair. After all, you'll need to use public transportation, and you'll have legitimate meal and clothing expenses."

"I'll also need a new laptop computer. I can't use Lois' because it has some software on it that belongs to the paper and she has to use it for work."

"That also sounds reasonable."

"And you need to give Lois a monthly allowance too, since she's going to have a roommate for the next year or more, until I can get a place of my own. I suggest at least two fifty a month."

"Now wait a minute! Your sister--"

"Is being majorly inconvenienced, Daddy! Yeah, she's a big girl with her own place and enough room for me to sleep, but she didn't have to let me stay! There are times when I'm going to be in her way and I want to know that she's being compensated for her trouble!"

Sam glanced at his older daughter, but Lois only smiled innocently. "Don't look at me, Daddy. I think Lucy is doing just great on her own right now."

He looked across the table to his wife, who refused to make eye contact with him. Then he shook his head and sighed. "Beaten by my youngest child. Very well, Lucille, I agree to your terms. Are there any additional clauses you wish to negotiate?"

Lucy grinned in triumph. "Yes. I want one round-trip airline ticket per semester to a destination of my choosing, anywhere in the continental US. I'll let you know when and where, but this needs to be in effect as long as I'm a full-time student."

Sam nodded. "I agree to your terms, but I reserve the right to look at your grades at any time and revoke this quite oppressive arrangement should your overall grade average fall below, say, two point six on a scale of zero to four? Four being an 'A,' of course."

"Since I don't plan on earning anything below a 'B' that works for me." Lucy looked at Lois. "Anything you want to add, Sis?"

"Nope. Just make sure that the escrow account is at a Metropolis bank, Dad, okay? We don't want Lucy to have to travel to North Dakota to get her tuition."

Sam's mouth twitched and Lois suddenly had the impression that he thought he was coming out ahead of this game. "That's certainly reasonable, and I would have done that in any case. Lucy, have we concluded this extortion session yet?"

Lucy offered her hand to her father. "It was a negotiation, and it's done. Shake."

"Don't you mean shakedown?"

"Don't be funny, Daddy. This is my immediate future we're discussing. Is it a deal?"

He took her hand gently and shook it. "Gladly."

Just then the waiter brought their salads, and the conversation turned to more mundane matters, such as the weather, the city traffic, the prospects of the Metropolis University football team this fall, Ultra Woman, and the price of taxis in the city.

Lois only hoped that her parents wouldn't wonder about her reluctance to talk about the super-heroine who had impressed her father with her rescue of their airliner and irritated her mother with her 'scandalously revealing outfit.' If they ever found out who Ultra Woman was when she wasn't wearing the scandalous outfit, Lois would never hear the end of it from them.

***

On Saturday, he was waiting for her. Naturally.

Lex smiled at her as she stepped out of the taxi. Of course, he always smiled when he first saw her, as if he'd rather spend time with her than at any of his companies or even with any other woman. Sometimes that made her uncomfortable. Sometimes she wondered why she wasn't sure that was a good thing.

She pasted on her standard return smile, then turned and paid the driver. "Have you let Uncle Mike know we're here yet?"

"I have," he answered as he held her chair. "He informed me that we would be dining al fresco, since it's such a wonderful day." Lex gestured to the empty patio. "We would also have the dining area mainly to ourselves, given that it's still early in the lunch hour. He also informed me, in no uncertain terms, that we would receive the best food and the best service which his establishment could offer and that I had better tip the waitress well or else."

She laughed. "That's Mike. He's very protective of his staff, and they do a good job for him."

Lex sat across from her and nodded. "That speaks well for him. Employee loyalty is vital to any successful business, and it is always better to build it on real relationships instead of on mere financial incentives."

"I agree. Of course, those financial incentives are important to us working mortals."

His smile thinned and he looked past her shoulder. "Ah, here comes our salad and bread now. Mike told me that this was his special wheat loaf, made with loving care and several mystery ingredients which he refused to divulge."

Lois turned to follow his line of sight and mentally kicked herself for reminding him, even indirectly, of Nigel's betrayal. He didn't need that from her, not now, probably not ever. She'd have to apologize to him as soon as he gave her an opening.

"Hey, Sherry, thanks," he said to the waitress. "How's our steaks coming?"

Lois covered her surprise at his change in manner of speech by gulping her water, which made her cough a couple of times. His parted lips and lifted eyebrows told her that he, in turn, was surprised that Ultra Woman would ever need to cough.

She picked up her napkin and wiped her mouth. "Sorry. Forgot that I'm supposed to drink it, not breathe it."

Both Sherry and Lex chuckled. "Here's your salads, and here's Mike's very special bread, folks," she drawled, "and here's the honey butter. Mike tells me that nothing is too good for his niece and her -- her friend. That salad dressing okay for both of you? I can go get anything you want."

"It's Thousand Island, isn't it?" asked Lex.

"Sort of. It's actually a house blend we save for our real good customers, and you two sure qualify as special! Anything I can get you before the steaks get here?"

Lois smiled at her. "You are bringing each of us a baked sweet potato with butter and cinnamon, aren't you? I've always loved the way Mike prepares them."

Sherry frowned for a moment. "I'll have to go check to make sure, but since you asked for it so nice, I'm sure Mike will let you have one of each."

"Thanks. I know they'll be great."

The girl spun on her toes and bounced back inside the restaurant. Lois turned to him and said, "Lex, I'm sorry I reminded you of Nigel just now. This is supposed to be a good day and I didn't get it started off very well."

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "I know you meant no ill by it, Lois." He reached out and took her hand. "Let us forget such things today and pretend that we are newly met and deeply in love and still discovering things about each other."

She bit her lip for a moment, then nodded. "I can do that. So, Alex, what do you do for a living?"

This time the grin covered his entire face as he released her hand and sat back. "I'm a computer programmer. I also have a few outside investments, and I fancy myself a fair piano player. Not professional quality, of course, because I don't have the time to practice that much, but I like it and some people say they enjoy my playing."

"I sing a little. Maybe we could get together and work up a few numbers."

His smile quirked up to one side. "I'd like that. Do you dance?"

She grinned back. "I've had occasion to go dancing before, yes. But only with the right partner."

"I'm sure your standards are quite high, as is your skill level. Now, if you like, you can tell me more about yourself, and I will pretend to be a gentleman and cut you a generous portion of this savory bread. Would you like a little or a lot of honey butter on it?"

The rest of the lunch proceeded along the same lines. Maybe she didn't love him like he claimed to love her, but the man sure could charm her. And he was a whale of a nice guy.

***

Lex and Lois sat near the middle of the bleachers and watched the various matches play out on the floor below them. Lex spent a few moments analyzing the combatants, then pointed to the man and woman currently facing each other.

"She's going to win this match," he told her.

"Why? Is she that much better than he is?"

"She's not, actually. They're both brown belts, but he's two degrees above her. Plus he has at least eight inches of reach on her and he's about forty pounds heavier. And he's just as quick as she is."

"Then why--"

The referee lifted his hand and called out, "Point!" then indicated the female combatant.

"It's because he's too enamored of his skills," Lex explained. "He's better than she is, and he believes that his moves will overwhelm her. See, that time he tried a leaping spin kick, and all she did was slide back, let him land on the mat, and shoot in a quick jab to score a point on him."

"Ah. So he's actually beating himself with all that showing off?"

"Exactly. Oh, see there, she ducked under that spinning back fist and kicked him in the hip for a point." He shook his head ruefully. "Poor fellow. All that work and effort going down the drain because he's too filled with himself and his own exalted vision of his worth." His mouth closed in a grim line. "Just like a certain billionaire whom we both know with an overinflated belief in himself."

She put her hand on his and squeezed it gently. "Water under the bridge, Alex. Just remember that your behind is in the past."

The *Lion King* reference threw him for a moment, then he gave her a lopsided grin. "That's very true. Oh, look, the match is over and the young woman won."

"The guy's not being a very good sport about it, is he? He doesn't want to shake hands with her."

"His ego has been pricked on three levels. His own skills failed him, he lost to someone with a lesser belt, and his opponent was a woman. A combination guaranteed to challenge even the best of us."

He didn't look at her, but he knew she was looking at him. "Is that how you feel? Do you think that I beat you at something?" She covered their joined hands with her other hand. "Or are you explaining why you kicked off the operation without talking to me about it?"

He looked down at his feet and spoke softly, knowing that she'd hear his words. "I think so, yes. That is, I think it was both of those things. I know it was foolish of me to react in that manner, but for the moment my ego overcame my reason and now a number of people are dead because of my actions." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I cannot recall ever making such a momentous mistake."

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Please don't dwell on it right now. I know this is something you need to talk about, and I'm flattered that you've opened up to me this much. I'm just not sure this is the right venue. It's a little public, don't you think?"

His head came up and he wiped his face with his free hand. "Yes. You're quite right, of course. I will reserve the baring of my soul to you for a more appropriate time and place." He looked at the exercise floor again. "Besides, Asabi is about to demonstrate his escrima techniques. This is going to be impressive."

In a clear voice, Asabi identified himself and asked the judges to allow him to proceed with his demonstration. They, of course, granted permission, and with his escrima sticks in each hand, he launched into a furious pantomime of blows, thrusts, blocks, and attacks, any of which would have disabled, if not killed, an actual opponent. His hands were blurs of motion and his feet slid across the mat almost as if he were ice skating.

Lois gasped along with the rest of the audience as Asabi spun through his deadly ballet. Lex smiled as he watched his friend glide across the floor and move his hands almost too fast to be seen clearly.

Suddenly he leaped into air with a sharp cry, spun around, and landed with the sticks crossed in front of him as if forcing his opponent's neck to the floor. He held the pose for a long breath, then flowed into a standing rest position and bowed to the judges. The panel of martial arts masters all smiled and applauded, which released the audience to whoop and hoot their delight at his exhibition of skill and control. Asabi bowed to the audience, then looked directly at Lex and bowed to him.

Lex stood and bowed in return, then sat down. Asabi turned smartly and strode off the mat, pausing only to hear what a man carrying a large curved sword said to him.

Lois chuckled, then turned to Lex and said, "The guy with the sword must be a friend of Asabi. He thanked him for setting the bar too high for any of the rest of them to impress the crowd."

Lex smiled. "What did Asabi say in return?"

"That he was happy to be of service. The other guy just laughed."

"Well, since the gentleman with the sword is about to begin his demonstration, we must applaud his performance with enthusiasm equal to our appreciation for Asabi's."

Her eyes sparkled at him. "Enthusiasm for a martial artist other than Asabi? Oh, I guess I can fake it."

Chapter Nine

As Lex walked away from the dojo with Lois' hand in his, he smiled to himself. There were so many things about being Lex Luthor that both pleased him and advantaged him that he wasn't sure where to begin listing them. He enjoyed the prestige, the power, the political influence, the deference his social and financial equals showed him, and the opportunity he had to influence history.

But he also knew that he could never buy what was happening to him at that moment.

He leaned over and gave Lois a quick kiss on the side of her head and was rewarded with a bright smile and a look that he thought suggested future possibilities. And he didn't want the moment to end, despite the outside pressures on him from the media and from law enforcement and from the public, not to mention all the constant internal pressures of running a business as large and varied as LexCorp and its subsidiaries. No deal, no merger, no sale or takeover could give him this thrill up and down his spine like being with Lois could.

So he said, "Why don't you and I go get some coffee? I've asked Asabi to join me, and I'm sure he'd enjoy seeing you."

"I don't want to get in the way, Lex."

"You wouldn't be. I'm certain he'd enjoy spending some time with you."

They took two more steps, then Lois nodded. "Okay. I assume this is your treat?"

He laughed. "Yes, it's my treat! I wouldn't want to bankrupt you, seeing that you only bring in a meager reporter's salary."

"You'd better believe it. Even with my dad's allowance for Lucy living with me, I don't have nearly enough money to make it rain."

Lex stopped short and stared at her, then laughed. "Oh, my dear, I can just picture you at Chesterfield's, throwing dollar bills at the men in tiny shorts as they shake whatever it is they shake."

She blushed slightly and shook her head. "I knew I'd be in trouble as soon as those words left my mouth. Hey, where's that coffee you promised me?"

"I have a favorite table at the local Starways. If it is not occupied, we will claim it and wait for Asabi to join us."

"We might have a long wait. I heard several people, including a couple of the judges, ask him about setting up a time to demonstrate some of his techniques."

"I'm not surprised. Asabi is a past master of the art, and he delights in sharing his expertise with anyone who wishes to learn from him." He pointed. "Excellent! The table is unoccupied."

He helped her sit, then she folded her hands under her chin and smiled at him. "I have to admit that I've enjoyed this afternoon more than I thought I would. There were a few moves Asabi made that I don't think I could have followed"—she tapped her temple--"if not for my special advantages."

"I confess that I couldn't follow some of them at all. In fact -- ah, here comes the hero of the day himself. Congratulations on a wonderful performance, my friend."

Both Lex and Lois stood as Asabi reached their table. Lex shook Asabi's hand enthusiastically, but Lois put her palms together just below her chin and bowed slightly. Asabi returned the bow as both of them held the position for a long breath, then straightened.

"Thank you, Mr. Luthor. And thank you, Miss Lane. You both honor me beyond my accomplishments with your praise."

Lex slapped him gently but manfully on the shoulder as they all sat. "Nonsense! You've earned every bit of approbation you receive. You were terrific."

"I agree, Asabi," Lois added. "I can't remember ever seeing such a masterful escrima exhibition."

Asabi's eyes twinkled. "How many such demonstrations have you seen, Miss Lane?"

"A few. My former sensei insisted that we be acquainted with a number of different techniques. He said that what works for one person may not work so well for another, and it had nothing to do with each person's skill level or commitment to the specialty itself. Some opponents are vulnerable to certain moves and others aren't. Plus he wanted us to be able to counter all kinds of holds and attacks, and it's hard to learn that if you're locked into a single style."

Lex nodded and waved for a waiter. "A wise man, your instructor. One should always be ready to meet any situation, whether in combat or in everyday life."

"Expect the unexpected?" asked Asabi.

"Absolutely."

"But if one expects the unexpected, it therefore becomes the expected and not the unexpected, and the aphorism collapses in on itself, does it not?"

Lex gave him a sideways frown, but Lois chuckled. "Well put, Asabi. I've never heard it explained like that."

"It is much like the saying that whatever does not kill you will make you stronger."

This wasn't the direction Lex wanted the conversation to go. "It does." He leaned back in his chair, his good mood quickly evaporating. "Unless, of course, it cripples you. Or it actually kills you."

***

Martha bustled about the kitchen, trying to explain to Rebecca how to trim a freshly-shaped apple pie without actually doing it for her. "Just run the knife around the rim of the plate, Becca. It doesn't matter what happens to the excess as long as it doesn't fall on the floor."

Rebecca slowly and carefully trimmed the pie until the dough on the top was even with the edge of the pan, then she cautiously pressed the edge down to the lower crust. "Got it! Do we bake it now or wait and let it age?"

Martha laughed. "No, we can put it in the oven now. Use the potholder so you don't burn your hands."

Rebecca stopped and frowned. "Before it's cooked?"

"Baked, dear, and remember that the oven is pre-heated."

"Oh, right. I forgot."

The pie slid into place on the oven rack and Martha set the timer for fifteen minutes. "I'm so glad I have this timer. We don't have to stare at the clock. Now, when the timer goes off, we turn the oven down to 375 degrees and bake it for another forty-five minutes."

"And then we have pie?"

"After it cools for another hour or so. You don't want to burn your mouth on hot apples."

"No, I guess not." She plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs. "I'm so sorry, but I'm just about out of energy already."

"I understand. You're still recovering from a gunshot wound. That would take a lot out of anyone."

Rebecca picked up the glass of tea Martha had made for her. "It's surely taken a lot out of me. I don't know how I'm going to handle going back to work week after next."

"Oh, I think you'll do just fine. Your therapist told you that you were making good progress yesterday, remember?"

"I think Lynn says that to all of her patients just to keep them going."

Martha laughed. "Well, I think you're doing well. You don't have any more pain except when you do your crunches too fast, and you can climb the stairs all by yourself and go the bathroom without any help, just like a big girl."

Rebecca tried to growl at Martha, but it turned into a chortle. When she finished, she leaned back and smiled. "I know, I know, I'm just a constant complainer. I plead guilty to not liking my recovery from what I hope to be my greatest and most dangerous adventure."

"Me, too. Are you hungry? I can probably be coaxed into making you a sandwich for lunch while I make mine."

"Thank you. That would be nice."

"Ham and cheese or turkey?"

"I pick turkey and cheese."

"Consider it done. I'll even refill your tea for you."

"Oh, no, I can handle that. I'm making good progress on my recovery, remember?"

Rebecca poured tea for both of them while Martha assembled two champion turkey sandwiches. They ate in companionable silence until Rebecca leaned back again and muffled a small burp.

"Oops! Excuse me."

Martha smiled and gathered the dishes. "Did you know that there are cultures on the Earth where a belch after a meal is considered a compliment to the cook?"

"No, I didn't. But I know that orcas sometimes catch seals and bat them around to each other with their tails before actually eating them. Some researchers think they're trying to teach their young about seal behavior, and others think they're just playing."

Martha sat down again. "What do you think?"

"I think we don't have enough data to make a call on that one. Most of the folks who have strong opinions about that behavior also have a vested interest in proving they're right, so they're not exactly objective observers."

"That sounds like a true scientist talking."

Rebecca sighed. "I just wish I could be that objective about my own life."

Martha's ears twitched. "What do you mean, dear?"

She sighed again. "I'm not sure about Clark. I mean, I know that I love him, but -- well, he doesn't like to talk about the future, except for me moving back to Metropolis and going back to work for LexCorp. I can't get him to talk about a future that directly involves the two of us together."

Martha knew this was a minefield and she'd have to tread lightly. "Do you have any idea why that might be so?"

"No. Well -- maybe. Okay, yeah, I do. I think part of the reason he's being so attentive is because he feels responsible for me getting hurt. But he shouldn't. There wasn't anything he could have done to stop it."

Martha nodded. "But he's a man, so he thinks it's his responsibility anyway."

"Yes! That's it exactly! And he won't talk about that with me, either." Rebecca crossed her arms and exhaled sharply. "It's so frustrating!"

"I know, dear. You just have to give him time. He'll come around eventually."

Rebecca looked out the kitchen window and waited a long moment before she said, "What if he doesn't?"

"What if he doesn't what?"

"What if he doesn't come around? What if he breaks up with me? What if I'm -- I'm just wasting my time with him?"

Martha shook her head. "A woman never wastes her time being around a good man, Becca. And Clark is a good man. Whether you and he should or shouldn't make a life together isn't my call, it's yours and his. I can give you advice until we're both blue in the face, but until you and he both have peace about your relationship, nothing I say or do will make much difference."

"You mean -- are you saying that we shouldn't get married unless we're both deliriously happy? Was it like that for Clark and Lana?"

Martha laughed. "Oh, no, dear. Just before they got married, they had a huge fight over a series of stories Clark had written about an archaeological dig her father was heading up. It took them the entire flight back from Africa to make peace."

Rebecca smiled a little. "Really? Clark never said anything about that. In fact he rarely mentions her, except to refer to something really good or really fun that she did. As far as I can tell from the little bit Clark has told me about her, Lana was some kind of saint, like Ingrid Bergman in *Joan of Arc* and Jackie Kennedy in Camelot and Mother Teresa all rolled into one perfect person."

Martha laughed again. "Oh, that girl was no saint, I promise you. If you want to know about her, ask Clark, but be ready to sort through some 'Lana was so wonderful' stories before you get to the ones where she was just another human being."

Rebecca nodded thoughtfully. "I'll do that. Thank you, Martha."

Just then the timer dinged. "Time to reset the oven temperature," Martha said. "Do you want to do it, Becca? After all, you are making good progress."

***

Cat knew she had a shadow. She'd glimpsed him several times in the past few days, and she figured that Arianna had told him to follow her after the shootout at her upstate house. The man hadn't threatened her, hadn't tried to pressure her, hadn't deliberately made his presence known to her, but she knew he was there and it made her nervous.

Her taxi dropped her off about three blocks from the Daily Planet. She'd planned to do some shoe shopping that afternoon, but Perry had called her in to make some changes to her column before the Sunday morning edition was put to bed. Since it was just after lunch and her real deadline on the changes was eight o'clock that evening, she decided to do some window shopping along the way.

She sauntered slowly past Macy's shoe display and a pair of dark blue pumps caught her eye. Color, not so much, but the style was very nice. Maybe they had them in a lighter--

The man on the other side of the street, the one leaning against a lamppost and holding a newspaper in front of him – the *National Whisper*, she thought -- caught her eye. He hadn't been there a moment ago, and he wasn't looking her way, but it was her shadow. She'd never seen him quite so clearly, and she forced herself to look away before her gaze alarmed him.

Her shopping mood was gone and she walked the rest of the way to the Planet as quickly as she could without breaking into a trot.

By the time the elevator opened on the news floor, she felt safe again. She put her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk and headed to Perry's office.

"Hi, Chief. Do you have -- oh, sorry, didn't know you had someone in here."

Perry waved her in. "It's okay, Cat. Do you know Bill Henderson?"

She extended her hand as he stood. "Don't think so. Good to meet you, Mr. Henderson."

His slate-gray eyes didn't waver behind his glasses as they shook hands. "Hope you still feel that way in a few minutes."

She frowned and took her hand back. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Sit down, please, both of you. Cat, I didn't tell you what Bill does for a living."

"What's that?"

"He's a cop."

She froze in place with her rear end just touching the chair seat. "He's -- a cop?"

Bill lifted his lapel and showed her his badge. "Detective Inspector. Homicide division."

She sank down the rest of the way. Her mouth was suddenly dry and her palms felt slick. "So -- uh -- I guess you want to talk to me about something?"

"We do. I want to get a preliminary statement from you about your involvement with Dr. Arianna Carlin, and we also need to set up a time for you to come in and give us a formal deposition."

She felt her eyes bulge. "But -- but Perry knows everything I know! Can't you ask him?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Grant, but no, I can't. You have to be the one to testify about what you know. The words have to come from your mouth."

"Um -- that's gonna be a little tricky right now."

"Why is that?"

"Someone is following me."

Both Perry and Bill shifted forward. "Are you certain of this?" Bill asked.

"Yes. I've seen him six or seven times since Dr. Carlin's house got shot up and she disappeared. In fact, I saw him this morning as I was coming in."

Bill leaned back and shook his head. "You were right, Perry. Having her come to a precinct might have gotten her killed."

"I told you Carlin is dead serious about this, Bill."

"I know. It's just -- until I have evidence, I tend not to believe what I hear from the media. No offense intended, you understand."

Cat lifted her hand. "Look, the longer I'm in here the more suspicious that guy is going to be, so can I give you my statement and get going?"

Bill nodded. "Perry already has a statement typed up for you to sign. I want you to look it over and make sure it's both accurate and complete. If it is, we'll be able to arrest Carlin as soon as we find her."

"What? You mean you can't arrest her with what you already have?"

"No. The most we could do would be to bring her in for questioning, and her lawyer would put a stop to that in a Metropolis minute. But with this"--he tapped a thin stack of paper on Perry's desk--"we can hold her without bail until her trial. That would give us enough reason to commit significant resources to investigating her."

"I don't understand. Why can't you do all that now? What about the stuff Lex Luthor said about her in his press conference?"

"That came from Nigel St. John, but it's hearsay from a dead man repeated by another man involved in a pretty complex investigation. The DA strongly advised Luthor not to mention her name, but his lawyers were focused on deflecting public blame away from him, and now we have to make sure we do everything legally perfect or some judge is liable to throw out our case and rule all of our evidence inadmissible, just because a public figure accused her without proof and poisoned the jury pool against her."

Cat nodded slowly. "I see. So, you making your case is all on me?"

"No. We need your testimony to get things started, but after that the investigation will take on a life of its own. To put it in chemical terms, you're the catalyst to make this volatile combination of elements ignite."

"Okay. Let me read over this, and while I'm doing that, you can send someone to protect my parents."

Perry said, "I got that covered. I called for Superman just after I called you. He should be here soon."

Just then the stairway door opened and someone stepped onto the floor. Cat felt Bill Henderson straighten, and when she glanced at his eyes they were bright and focused. She turned and saw a woman she assumed was dressed for a movie role until she stepped closer.

The woman opened the door to Perry's office and stepped in. "I am Ultra Woman. Superman asked me to come in his stead. He has another issue with which he must deal at this moment. How may I assist you?"

Bill was standing now. He moved to one side and invited Ultra Woman to take his seat. "Thank you, Detective Inspector Henderson, but I suspect that I will not be here long."

Perry was also standing. "Ultra Woman, this is Catharine Grant. She has a problem and we think you can help her."

Ultra Woman turned her dark eyes to Cat, who was still seated. "How may I assist you, Ms. Grant?"

"Um -- yeah. My parents are in Georgia, just outside of Atlanta, and someone needs to go rescue them."

Ultra Woman frowned, then looked at the two men in turn. "I take it that this is not an urgent problem?"

"Not right now," said Bill, "but it will be very soon. See, Ms. Grant is a confidential informant in a criminal investigation, and the criminal we're investigating is threatening to harm her parents if she talks to the police. We need someone who can protect them while we get the investigation started."

Ultra Woman crossed her arms. "Why do you not simply ask the Atlanta police department for their assistance?"

"Because we don't know if any of them have been compromised by the person we're investigating. If we make an informal request for protection for her folks, and right now we don't have the evidence to make a formal request, the people we're looking into would probably find out and make their move before the Atlanta cops can get set up. We need someone to go in quick and quiet."

"I understand. But do your laws not provide that, because this criminal enterprise appears to cross state lines, your federal law enforcement agencies may become involved?"

"That would take too long. The goal is to protect her parents, and I strongly suspect she's not going to cooperate unless we do that first."

Ultra Woman turned her gaze back to Cat. "Is this a true statement, Ms. Grant? You would refuse to give vital information to the police because of a threat to your parents?"

Cat didn't flinch from that hard gaze. "I've gotten pictures of my parents walking their dog on the street. I have pictures of them in their front lawn, pictures of them eating at restaurants, having dinner at home, driving to work or to a dental appointment or shopping for groceries. I even have one of them riding a roller coaster at Six Flags Over Georgia. And they have no idea that any of these pictures exist. Yes, I'm scared for them! Wouldn't you be if you got those kinds of pictures of your parents and knew that someone could kill them in a flash?"

Ultra Woman's gaze softened, along with her voice. "I apologize. I did not consider the situation from your point of view. Your position is quite understandable under the circumstances." She turned back to Bill. "Detective Inspector Henderson, I will do as you ask. How may I locate these people?"

Perry picked up a manila folder and held it out. "Here's their names, address, phone number, description, and a couple of pictures of each of them."

Ultra Woman opened the folder and looked at the photos, then looked at Cat again. "They appear to be very nice people, Ms. Grant. I will do my best to protect them."

Cat let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. "Thank you. Thank you so very much."

Ultra Woman nodded. "With your permission, gentlemen, I will assume this duty now. Ms. Grant, I will leave as I arrived, via the roof, so as not to alarm the man who is following you."

"Can you describe him to us?"

"I can do better than that, Detective Inspector Henderson, I can point him out to you. He is at this moment on the far side of the street in the small park facing the front of the building, pretending to read a newspaper. If you will send two uniformed officers to the park area, I will land in front of him, engage him in conversation, and your officers may apprehend him."

Perry chuckled. "On what charge?"

Ultra Woman tilted her head at him. "Why, the charge of reading a paper other than the *Daily Planet* while in full view of the editor-in-chief of the *Daily Planet*, of course. It is a clear case of disrespect to one of the city's most noble institutions."

With that, she spun on her heel and strode to the stairwell. Funny, thought Cat, she walks a lot like Lois does.

But the thought was pushed to the side as she sat down and began to read the statement she was to sign. She ignored the call Bill Henderson made from Perry's phone.

Four minutes later, Perry chuckled. She looked up to see him next to Bill at the window. "There he goes," said Perry.

"One cheap thug down," said Bill, "a couple of dozen more to go."

Six minutes after that, Cat signed the statement and initialed each separate page. Both Bill and Perry did the same. Bill slipped the papers into his briefcase and said, "I'll call you, probably later this evening but no later than Monday morning, to set up an appointment for you to speak with the DA. You'll be formally deposed at that time." He paused, then said, "I know you were blackmailed into doing what you've been doing, Ms. Grant, but you may still face some charges. And, depending on what happens with Arianna Carlin and her associates at trial, you may have to relocate, maybe even change your identity. This isn't over, not by a long shot."

Cat swallowed hard. "I know. But I can't go on like this any longer. I have to get out from under this, one way or another."

Perry said, "We'll help you, Cat. I think this is a brave thing you're doing."

"So do I," Bill said. "I just wanted to make sure you know that you're not in the clear yet."

Cat looked at him, knowing that her face said as much as her words did. "I've lived with this for more than five years, Inspector, and I'll live with it for the rest of my life. There's no way for me to make up for what I've done or forget all the people who have been hurt or even killed because of me. All I can do now is to try to stop it from happening again." She turned and reached for the door. "And I'll never be in the clear. I'm already serving a life sentence."

***

Ultra Woman skimmed over the north Atlanta suburb where Cat's parents lived. She scanned the area around their house and spotted two men who didn't quite fit the neighborhood. One was a man with his head under the open hood of a car, but who wasn't doing anything beyond wiggling wires and touching belts. The other man was raking leaves into a pile, but he was the only one on the block who was working like that. And there weren't that many leaves in the yard he was raking.

She hovered high above the street and checked on the Grants. There they were, sitting on the couch next to each other watching television. Judging by their laughter, it must have been a comedy.

Suddenly the man with the rake stopped and dropped his tool. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a cell phone. He listened for a long moment, then put the phone back and started walking toward the Grants' house.

The man fiddling with his car stood and closed the hood, then reached into his jacket and pulled out a compact revolver. The first man did the same as the second man fell into step almost beside him.

Something was happening and it wasn't good.

Ultra Woman swooped down behind the men as they started moving faster. The man who'd dropped the rake moved to the side of the house where the windows were alight, and the man who'd been playing with the car moved to the front door.

The first man lifted his pistol and aimed through the window. Ultra Woman flashed down and snatched the weapon out of his hand before he could pull the trigger. Then she zoomed around to the front of the house and yanked the second man backward off the porch.

His revolver skidded out of his hand and she grabbed it before he stopped sliding. Then she grabbed the first man and threw him on top of the second man.

She stood over them and glared fiercely. "You men will remain where you are while the police come. When they arrive, you will--"

The first man tried to get up and run, but a blast of icy breath knocked him to the grass and drove the breath from his lungs. The second man lifted his hands in front of him and closed his eyes. "D-don't kill me!" he begged.

"I will not kill either of you," she snapped. "But I also will not allow you to leave this yard."

The front door opened behind her and a man called out, "Hey! What's going on out there?"

"Mr. Grant," she answered without turning, "please call the police and tell them that Ultra Woman has captured two men who meant you and your wife great harm. Please ask them to come here at once, or I will not be responsible for the condition of these men."

The first man gasped and tried to roll over. "Do it, mister!" he yelled. "Do it now!"

Mr. Grant said, "Will you tell me what's going on here?"

"I shall explain everything, Mr. Grant, as soon the police arrive. Please call them now."

She heard a woman's gentle voice behind her. "Come on, Hugh, do as the scary lady says. If she wants the police here, she probably isn't a criminal, right?"

Hugh grunted. "Okay, Sandra. Just don't go out there."

Ultra Woman nodded to herself and smiled. The men on the ground saw it and apparently misinterpreted her expression. The first man turned and buried his face in the grass and moaned, while the second man crossed his arms in front of his face and again yelled, "Don't kill me! Please don't kill me!"

"Very well. I will not kill either of you as long as you remain where you are. But do not attempt to flee again. Do you understand me?"

"Yes! I -- I got it! I understand! Just don't kill me!"

They remained in that state of abject fear until the police cruisers pulled up with lights flashing and sirens wailing.

Ultra Woman had no problem convincing the police of her identity once she folded her legs underneath herself and sat in mid-air. She handed the men's weapons to one of the arresting officers, finished giving him her report, then rose out of sight to the north.

That was a good save, thought Lois. Wish all of them could be like that.

Chapter Ten

Cat unlocked her apartment door and slipped inside. She hadn't seen anyone following her, but that meant little since Carlin knew where she lived. She hung up her windbreaker on the coat rack beside the door and put her purse on the table next to it, then threw the deadbolts and turned to shuffle to the kitchen.

"Boy, I'm tired," she said to the room. "I could sleep all night and all day."

"Betrayal is most exhausting, isn't it, my dear?"

The woman's low, almost friendly voice startled Cat and she spun in its direction. On her couch sat a woman of perhaps thirty-five, slender, of medium height, shoulder-length dark hair just starting to turn silver in tiny spots, wearing a modest blazer and skirt combination. She almost looked as if she planned to interview Cat for a job.

The woman smiled and stood, her right hand hidden in the folds of her skirt. "My dear Catharine, you haven't called lately. Is your phone broken?"

Phone? Broken? Called lately? What was she talking about?

Then it hit her. This woman was Arianna Carlin.

"D-Dr. Carlin! I -- I was going to -- to call you -- when I – I got home -- b-b-but I--"

Carlin's right hand lifted and revealed a small semi-automatic pistol. Cat gasped and stumbled backwards until she bumped against the nearest wall.

"Interesting," Carlin purred. "You know who I am, despite our never having been formally introduced. Now I wonder who could have given you that information?" She made tch-tch sounds with her tongue. "Oh, of course! You were having a conversation with a policeman, weren't you? I'm certain he revealed my identity to you. Don't you remember our first rule, Catharine?"

"N-never talk about Fight Club?"

Carlin laughed. "Oh, Catharine, you are so very droll! No, it's actually 'Never talk to the police about anything.' But, oh dear, I'm afraid you've broken that rule."

"I -- I didn't call him! He was just there when I went to the office! He asked me a bunch of questions but I didn't tell him anything!"

Carlin stepped closer. "Now that's not what I heard from my little birdie. My little birdie says that the man who was following you -- according to my orders, by the way – was arrested for carrying an illegal weapon. And do you want to know why? Ultra Woman, of all people, just randomly floated down from the sky and asked him why he was there in the park. He said he was waiting for his wife. Then Ultra Woman asked him about his marriage, claiming that she wanted to learn more about human customs and practices. And while he was distracted, trying to figure out how to get rid of her politely -- she's supposed to be quite fetching in that costume, you know -- two officers arrested him for loitering, searched him, and found his pistol and his knife. And the silly man had forgotten his license in his other suit. His lawyer will have him out by Monday afternoon, of course, but it strikes me that this was no coincidence."

Cat said nothing. She just stared at that little pistol in Carlin's hand.

"I'm sorry, dear, cat got your tongue?" Carlin laughed. "I've wanted to use that joke ever since I learned your nickname. I'm just sorry it has to be now."

Cat blinked. "Wha -- what do you mean?"

Carlin's eyes went flat, her voice lost its teasing, sing-song quality, and she suddenly looked much older. "I mean that I do not regard betrayal lightly, Miss Grant. You had a conversation with the police. That is something I cannot tolerate."

"But I--"

Cat didn't finish her sentence. The pistol in Carlin's hand snapped loudly four times, and at a range of five feet, she didn't miss.

The twenty-five-caliber bullets didn't penetrate far into Cat's body, but they didn't have to. Each one tore tissue and blood vessels, and the fiery burn from the combined wounds robbed her of the ability to stand. Her legs turned to jelly and she fell against the wall. Then she slid to the floor, her hands trying to cover the suddenly bloody holes in her chest and belly.

Carlin lowered the smoking pistol and stepped closer. "I'm so sorry, Catharine, but your debt has come due in full. And since you don't have the money -- well, let's just say that your parents are paying off the balance even as we speak. At least, as I'm speaking."

Cat tried to say something but she only dribbled blood from her mouth. Her head drooped and she saw the front of her dress where there was a rapidly spreading red stain. She tried to lift her head, but she no longer had the strength.

As if from far away, she heard Carlin say, "I missed your heart, dear, but I believe I did hit the descending aorta. That's the main artery carrying blood to your lower body. You'll bleed out in another minute more. Of course, I'll be gone by then."

Cat felt a hand on her chin, then the hand lifted her head and banged it against the wall. She barely felt it. Carlin's face seemed to be miles away.

"Oh, I see that you're almost gone already. Well, ta-ta, my dear. Say hello to your parents for me, and give them my hate. Enjoy Hell, assuming there is one waiting for you."

Cat tried once more to speak, to lift her hand and grab Carlin, to do something. But any effort was beyond her remaining strength. Her eyes slipped shut and her breathing came hard. She felt herself slip slowly to her left, away from the leg that was folded under her. She heard a metallic clicking that sounded like someone picking up small pieces of metal.

Then she was gone.

***

Because he was watching his favorite college football team, Louisiana State University, destroy their overmatched rival Tulane University, Jimmy Olsen almost didn't answer his phone. But he knew he'd wonder who it was and why he was being called after nine o'clock on a Saturday evening, so he picked up the extension as the battered Tulane quarterback called a timeout.

"Hello?"

"Olsen!" The Chief's voice was unmistakable. "Get over to Cat Grant's place and check on her!"

"What? Why? What's wrong?"

"She's not answering her phone and you're closer than I am! Hurry and you might get there before the police do. I'm calling them when I get through with you."

"Police? Chief, what's going on?"

Jimmy heard Perry take in a breath and let it out slowly. "I'll explain it all later. Right now you need to check on Cat. She's not answering her phone and I'm worried about her."

"Maybe she's on her other phone," Jimmy snarked back. "You know, the special one?"

Perry hesitated, and Jimmy could almost see him wiping his face with his hand out of sheer exasperation. "I'll tell you later just how big a jerk you're being, Olsen. Now get over to her place and call me from there! I'm at home."

Jimmy sighed, resigned to missing the rest of the game. "Okay, Chief. Give me fifteen minutes."

"Make it ten." And the phone slammed down at the other end.

Jimmy frowned at the phone and replaced it in its cradle. He didn't know why it was so important for the Chief to know that Cat the spy was okay, but he knew he'd better do as he was told. Besides, there just might be something going on. Maybe he could catch her with Dr. Carlin. That would show his boss just how smart Jimmy was.

He switched off the TV, grabbed his keys, and locked the door behind him. He ran down three flights of stairs to his car, thinking that if Morgana wasn't already in Chicago he might have been on a date with her and would have missed Perry's call and wouldn't be checking up on a spy and a traitor. Oh well, that's life.

He pushed the speed limit as much as he dared and slid sideways to the curb next to a parking meter across from Cat's building in just under nine minutes. He leaped out of the car and skittered across the oncoming traffic, with horns and squealing brakes providing an arrhythmic counterpoint to his footsteps.

He ran up the stairs to Cat's apartment and knocked on the door. There was no answer so he knocked again.

Still no sound from within, so he rang the doorbell and bashed the door with his fist. "Come on, Cat, Perry wants to talk to you. Open up!"

No one came to the door and no one called to him. He began to turn away, then thought that his boss would have his hide if he didn't at least try the door.

To his surprise -- and belated alarm -- the knob turned and the door ghosted open to reveal a darkened front room. The only light came from outside the window across from the doorway.

There is a feel to a place, almost a viable presence, when someone is there. That presence was missing, and Jimmy started feeling antsy.

Then he smelled something that shouldn't have been there. It was a sharp coppery scent mixed with a hint of old food left out on the counter for too long. Maybe Cat had been called away while she was making hamburgers or something.

He slowly reached in and felt for the light switch, then flipped it on. The room looked empty as he scanned from left to right --

Until he saw the body.

Despite his youth, he was no stranger to death. He didn't have nearly the experience either Clark or Lois had with dead people, but he'd seen a few corpses in his time.

But he'd never seen a dead person whom he'd known in life.

He listened closely and scanned the room minutely, ready to run at the first indication that the killer was still there. For murder it had to be. No one died of natural causes with that much blood on the front of her clothes and on the floor without any on her head.

Satisfied that he -- that they -- were alone, he looked for the phone and found it on a desk opposite Cat's body. He stepped as carefully as he could to it and dialed the police emergency number.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?" came the operator's perfunctory response.

"I'm at someone's apartment and she's been murdered. Please send the police."

The operator lost her bored tone. "Sir, can you verify the address where you are?"

He did so. "I just got here about one minute ago and I'm pretty sure she's been dead for a while. She was either shot or stabbed, I don't know which."

"Have you examined the body, sir?"

"No, I haven't gone near her -- near it. I didn't want to mess up any evidence."

"That's good, sir. Please remain on the line until the officers arrive, okay?"

"No problem."

"What is your name, sir?"

"James Olsen. I work for the *Daily Planet*."

"The officers have been dispatched and will be there in about three minutes. Do you know the identity of the victim?"

"Yes. Her name is -- her name was Catharine Grant. She also works -- worked -- for the *Daily Planet*. This is her apartment."

"Thank you, sir. Can you tell me why you are there?"

"My boss -- that's Perry White, the editor-in-chief of the *Daily Planet* -- called me at home and told me to come and check on her. He was trying to call her and no one picked up the phone." He took a shuddering breath. "I guess now we know why."

"Sir, please remain calm and stay on the line. Is there anyone else in the apartment with you?"

"As far as I know, Cat and I are the only ones here. I haven't checked any of the other rooms. I'm in the front room right now."

"Thank you, Mr. Olsen. Please let the officers search the apartment when they get there. They will ask you this also, but can you tell me what you've touched in the apartment?"

"The light switch in the front room and the phone. Nothing else. I know what not to do at a crime scene."

"That's very good, sir. Ah, the officers are entering the building now."

"The front door is standing open and I'm in plain sight. Please tell them that I'm not armed and I'm not a threat."

"They'll have to search you, sir, but I'm sure you'll be fine."

"I'll let them search me as much as they want as long as they don't shoot me."

A short, dark-skinned officer appeared in the open doorway with her weapon drawn. "Police! Don't move!"

Jimmy lifted his free hand and said into the phone, "The officers have arrived. Can I hang up now?"

Another officer slipped in behind the first one and moved toward the kitchen. "Just do it slowly, sir," said the operator.

"No problem." The woman with the pistol slowly advanced toward him as a third uniformed policeman danced toward the bedroom, weapon leading. "Officer," he said, "I'd like to hang up the phone now, if you don't mind."

"Who are you talking to?" she snapped.

"The 9-1-1 operator. She told me I could hang up."

The officer lifted one hand to the microphone clipped to her shoulder and pressed the transmit button. "Officer O'Brian reporting. Front room secured. One person on the phone, male, early twenties, non-threatening attitude."

Her radio crackled back. "The man on the phone is the 9-1-1 caller. He reported the crime."

"Roger that." She relaxed slightly. "Please hang up the phone, sir, and turn around and put your hands on the wall and spread your feet."

"Yes, ma'am." He complied as she searched him efficiently and thoroughly.

She stepped back and holstered her pistol. "What's your name, sir?"

"My name is James Olsen. I work for the *Daily Planet* as a photographer and IT tech. My boss, Perry White--"

"Perry White!" she interjected. "How do you know him?"

"I told you, he's my boss. He called me at home about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes ago and told me to come over here to check on Catharine Grant. She's one of -- she was one of my coworkers. Mr. White couldn't get her on the phone so he told me to come check on her." He pointed across the room where a tall older man wearing latex gloves and a cheap gray suit was kneeling beside Cat's body. "That's her against the wall. She's dead."

"How do you know that? Did you check on her when you came in?"

"No. I could tell she wasn't breathing, and that's way too much blood for anybody to lose and stay alive. The only things I touched when I came in were the light switch and the phone."

"How did you get in?"

"The door wasn't locked. I just turned the knob and it opened."

The man in the suit stood and walked over to Jimmy's side of the room. "She was shot four times at close range with a small-caliber weapon, a twenty-two or a twenty-five. Probably a Saturday night special. Her skin is cool but she's not in rigor yet. My guess is she's been dead between two and four hours. The ME will tell us for sure." He waved toward the back of the apartment. "As far as we can tell, nothing else in here was touched. This looks like a deliberate killing, not a robbery or something else gone bad. And the shooter either policed his brass or used a revolver."

"Thanks, Lennie," the officer said. She turned to Jimmy again as the plainclothes detective walked back to the body. "You have some ID on you?"

"In my wallet. Left rear pants pocket."

"Bring it out slowly, please."

He did so, then opened the wallet and pulled out his driver's license without being asked. She held it for a moment, then returned it. "You have much experience with the police?"

"Enough to know you won't look at my license while it's in my wallet. I told you, I work for the *Daily Planet*."

"You did, sir." She pulled a small notebook from her shirt pocket. "Would you mind giving me your home address and phone number?"

He repeated the information to her. "The address is the same as what's on my license."

She snapped her notebook shut. "Yes, sir, but sometimes people move."

He nodded. "Is it okay if I call my boss and tell him what's happened? That's why I came over in the first place."

She turned around. "Lennie? Can this guy use the phone in here?"

"He already touched it, didn't he?"

"Yeah. You need to dust it for prints first?"

"No, let him make his call. We'll check the usage records to make sure, but I doubt the killer called anyone from this phone."

Jimmy nodded to both officers. "Thanks."

Then he picked up the phone and did the hardest thing he'd had to do in his young life.

***

Lois saved the story of Ultra Woman's capture of the two men in Atlanta and sent the file to Perry's inbox. Then she put her hands behind her head and leaned back, satisfied with how that had gone. No one had gotten hurt and the bad guys were behind bars. Plus, if there were any crooked cops on Carlin's payroll in that department, they'd surely keep a low profile knowing that Ultra Woman was on the case.

She rocked in her chair a few times, then sat up. It was time to go home. She felt good about herself and about her mission and about the way the net was closing around Arianna Carlin. It shouldn't be too long before Lex was out from under the menace of her presence also.

And maybe it was time to bring Cat in on the secret of Ultra Woman's identity. After all, Lois had just saved her parents' lives, and whatever Cat knew about Arianna Carlin, and however she'd learned it, was going to be used to bring her to justice.

All in all, it felt like a very good night.

The phone rang just before she stepped on the bottom of the ramp. She chuckled to herself and returned to her desk. "Lois Lane, *Daily Planet*."

"Lois? Honey? You -- you should sit down if you're not already."

She blinked. It was Perry's voice, but he sounded as if he'd suddenly gotten old. Something was wrong -- no, check that, something really big was wrong.

She found her chair. "Okay, I'm sitting. What's going on?"

Something like a sob came over the line. "Are Cat's parents okay?"

"Yes. Ultra Woman caught the bad guys and handed them over to the cops."

"Good." He hesitated again, then spoke. "So the only call I'll have to make is to them."

"What? Why do you need to call them?"

He took in a long breath, then let it out slowly. "Cat was killed this afternoon."

The room spun for a moment and Lois heard a crackling by her ear. It took her a moment to realize that she'd almost crushed the receiver in her hand.

"Cat -- dead? How? Who?"

"The police -- they think Arianna Carlin shot Cat in her apartment about three hours ago. I sent Jimmy over there to check on her and he -- the kid found her body."

Now the room was tear-dimmed. "Where is Carlin now?" Lois growled.

"We don't know! And don't you go off by yourself trying to find her. If Superman and Ultra Woman can't find her, you won't do it alone."

"Give me your best guess, Perry."

"I don't have any kind of guess. I think she's somewhere in or around Metropolis, but that covers a lot of territory. No one has reported seeing her lately."

"What about that woman in custody, the one from Carlin's upstate hideaway?"

"She's in the secure wing of the jail-- No! You stay away from her! You hear me?"

"I just want to ask her a question or two."

"There's no way Bill Henderson or the DA is going to let anyone talk to her now! If she doesn't help them find Carlin she'll find another murder charge filed against her! And I'm not going to let you screw up that case!"

"Perry--"

"I want your word, Lois! And I want it right now! Promise me you'll stay away from the jail no matter what you're wearing!"

She almost finished crushing the phone receiver, but after a long moment her control returned. "You have my word. I will not go anywhere near the jail to talk to her."

"Good." He took another deep breath. "You didn't know this, not all of it, but Cat was reporting everything she -- wait, you don't know that either. Look, I need to see you and Clark at my place tonight. Jimmy will be there too. There are some things I need to tell -- tell all of you." His voice caught, then he cleared his throat and said, "It's time for me to come clean on this."

"I think Clark's on a date with Rebecca."

"Get in touch with him however you need to and get him over here. I want to see all three of you at my house in the next forty minutes."

***

Rebecca looked up as Clark came back to her seat, expecting to be handed a box of popcorn and a soft drink. Instead, he leaned down and whispered, "There's an emergency. I have to go."

She frowned and whispered back, "Can't Lois take care of it?"

He shook his head. "My boss wants both of us, along with Jimmy, to meet him at his house right now."

"Oh, Clark, we're not even halfway through the movie! Can't this wait?"

"No, it can't."

She jerked back at his sharp tone and the woman sitting behind them stage-whispered, "You two need to take it outside, okay? We're trying to enjoy the show here."

Rebecca turned and muttered. "The boat sinks and almost everybody dies."

"Oh, thanks for spoiling it for me, lady."

Clark turned and lifted his open hand to the woman in a gesture of peace, then looked at Rebecca. "I have to go now. Either come with me or take a cab home."

She hesitated a moment, then stood and followed him to the aisle, pouting inside with every step. Her subtle campaign to cut down on Superman's public appearances had been going well – maybe too well. Maybe that's why Clark had been a bit harsh with her. Maybe she'd been pouring it on a little thick.

As they left the theater and walked into the mall proper, she muttered, "Don't you have any time to yourself?"

He didn't look at her. "You know I'm a reporter. You know I have to respond to the needs of the paper. And right now I have to go see my boss at his home. Something really big has come up."

Her irritation morphed into curiosity. "Really? What's it about?"

He sighed and waited until they were in the parking lot to speak again. "I don't know yet, but it's big or Lois wouldn't have called me while we were out together."

"I didn't hear your phone ring."

He opened the passenger door and handed her the keys. "You'll have to drop me off." Rebecca frowned at him, then walked around the car and they each slid into their respective seats. "And Lois didn't call me on the phone."

Rebecca's eyes widened. "You mean--" she touched the side of her head.

"Yes. Now please hurry. She wouldn't give me any information, but I could tell she was really upset about something."

"Got it." She started the car and eased out into the parking lot, then headed for the main road. "I'll need directions to your boss' house. I've never been there."

"No problem. Take a left on the Curt Swan Parkway and head west. I'll direct you from there."

Whatever was wrong, thought Rebecca, it was bad. Maybe she should ease up on Clark for a while.

Or maybe he needed to learn how to say 'no' once in a while.

***

The funeral had been torture for Jimmy.

Telling Cat's parents how sorry he was had been sheer agony.

But the knowledge that she'd been one of the good guys after all almost crushed him.

He'd gotten used to speaking carefully around Cat, to keeping sensitive information out of her hands as much as he could, to pretending that he tolerated her presence in the newsroom. He'd almost tipped his hand a few times, but as far as he or Perry knew, she'd never known that he'd been tracking her movements and her conversations with Carlin for months.

And then Perry had revealed to him that she'd been reporting every word to her editor, that the only reason he'd kept Jimmy on the case was to verify her information, that they had been feeding that information to the police, that Cat had planned to testify against Carlin after the doctor's arrest, and that Cat would have almost surely disappeared into witness protection after the trial.

None of that would happen now.

Jimmy watched as Perry told her parents that Cat had been murdered by someone she'd been investigating and that the information she'd discovered would help the police find her killer quickly. It didn't comfort them, of course, but the knowledge that she had been working for the good guys might help deal with her death in the future.

The thought that the Chief was telling them the truth cut Jimmy even deeper.

Lois was barely able to stand. Jimmy had never seen her so inconsolable. She might have fallen more than once had Clark not stayed by her side the whole time, often holding her upright. Even through his own pain, he saw how much Lois would miss Cat, how much this loss was taking from her. Had Clark not been walking beside her, she might have collapsed to the floor when she passed by the open coffin.

And Clark looked stricken, as if he'd lost a friend. But he hadn't, not like Lois had. He'd never been as close to Cat as Lois was. Maybe he felt Lois' pain over losing her friend.

There was also a fleeting thought that Clark and Lois looked very natural together, that they fit together as well as any two people he'd ever seen, but the thought didn't hang around and Jimmy didn't try to call it back when it drifted away. He didn't even wonder where Rebecca was, since he knew she and Cat hadn't known each other.

Just before he walked out of the chapel, Inspector Henderson motioned him to an unoccupied corner. "Olsen, what can you tell me about the Dangerous Boys?"

Jimmy didn't bother to hide his shock at the question. Henderson wasn't supposed to know anything about that. "What? Who?"

"Look, I know they're not a new punk band. I also know that you're connected to them and that you and they do some really high-tech computer stuff. We have reason to believe that Arianna Carlin knows something about you guys and about you poking around in her business, which means that she might decide to use up some ammunition on you."

Jimmy's eyes widened and he glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. "I don't believe it! We were careful not to leave any tracks!"

"Well, one of you must have stepped in a digital mud puddle and left a footprint. The woman from Carlin's hideout who we have in custody told us this morning that Carlin asked all of her team to find out whatever they could about you and some guy named Philip Knowles and who they were hanging around with."

"But -- that means -- Morgana!"

Henderson grabbed Jimmy's arm and kept him from sprinting away. "Calm down! Tell me about Morgana."

"She's part of the gang, one of the Dangerous Boys, but she's also a musician and she moved to Chicago to play in the symphony and I have to tell her she's in danger!"

Henderson shook his head. "If she's that far away, she's safe as long as she stays there. What's left of Carlin's organization is all up and down the East Coast, but they haven't penetrated the Midwest yet."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"We have a number of sources and the FBI is working closely with us on this case. If Luthor hadn't gone after Carlin with his militia and pushed her underground, we probably would have been able to arrest her a couple of weeks ago."

"She's not so far underground that she can't still kill people!" snarled Jimmy.

Henderson's face softened. "I know. And I'm sorry. I should have taken Ms. Grant into protective custody, but we didn't think Carlin would react so quickly and so violently. We'll know better next time."

Jimmy leaned closer and snapped, "Cat doesn't have a next time, Inspector!"

This time Henderson's face went almost blank. "I know that too. Now you know this. Carlin won this battle but she won't win the war. We'll get her. In the meantime, you call your dangerous buddies in your little group and tell them to run for the hills, preferably some place two or three states to the west, and not to come back to Metropolis until this is over. And do it now, before we have to attend any more funerals."

Before Jimmy could respond, Henderson stepped around him and walked outside.

Great, thought Jimmy, just great. Now we're targets too. Me and Raoul and Phil and Morgana and--

His eyes popped open again. He'd better tell Clark that Rebecca was one of the targets. Maybe he could get Superman to watch over her until the danger passed.

Chapter Eleven

Jimmy fidgeted on his couch. When he got tired of that after a long and boring fourteen seconds, he picked up the TV remote and started surfing channels. Twelve seconds of that sufficed, so he snapped off the TV and walked around his living room straightening various items on the shelves and the end tables which he'd already straightened at least six times that morning.

A knock on the door startled him, then the second knock, the coded one for the Dangerous Boys, sounded. He all but ran to the door and swung it open to see Raoul and Philip.

He stepped back to let them in. "It's about time you clowns showed up."

Philip frowned. "Ease off, Jim, we're here now."

"I wish you guys had come over sooner."

"Sorry, Jim, but both of us had stuff to do," countered Raoul.

"I told you this was important."

"Hey, Jim, Phil already told you--"

"It's Philip, not Phil. How'd you like for someone to call you Ra? Or maybe Ool?"

Raoul laughed at the joke so old it was almost a set routine.

Jimmy didn't laugh. "Hope you dudes are thirsty." He handed a soft drink to each of his visitors. "Here you go, guys. Not quite a classic Dangerous Boys meeting, is it?"

"Nope," agreed Philip, aka Harry Potter. "Not the same without Rebecca and Morgana. And we don't usually meet on Thursday afternoons, either."

Raoul popped open his drink and took a swig. "Where are the girls, anyway?"

"They're both safe," said Jimmy.

"Safe?" asked Philip. "Safe from whom?"

"The killer who's after all of us. You two have to get out of town now. Tonight."

Raoul and Philip exchanged a bemused look, then Philip asked, "What do you mean, there's a killer after us?"

"It's Arianna Carlin! Somehow she found out about us and now she's got us in her sights! She's already killed a reporter at the *Planet*!"

"Who's Arianna Carlin?"

"Don't you read the papers, Phil?" Raoul cut in. "Lex Luthor's mercenaries shot up her house a few weeks ago and she's in hiding. She's the criminal mastermind of the city, the Boss."

"Name's not--"

"Forget that!" Jimmy broke in. "This woman is a walking shooting gallery!"

"Man, I got no idea what you're talking about."

"Get the afro out of your ears! We're learning more about her every day! She's behind more than half of the high-dollar crime in the city, and now she's killed a friend of mine! And somehow she found out that we were poking around in her business online! Now which one of you birdbrains hacked into that Cayman Islands bank?"

Philip put his drink down. "It wasn't me, Jimbo, honest. I've been a good boy lately."

Jimmy glared at him for a moment, then nodded and turned to his other guest. "Raoul?"

Raoul took a deep breath, then nodded. "I confess. I cracked it and found a bunch of transactions from that guy Nigel's accounts. Copied them off to a hidden directory on my home machine and gave them to the DA. But I didn't know about the woman you're talking about, not then. How'd she find out I was in that system?"

Jimmy ran his hand through his hair. "We don't know. Might have been a file access trigger, or maybe you tripped a silent alarm when you hacked in. We just know that she asked her people to find out about me and you, both by name. There's no way she'll miss the connection to the rest of the group. On top of that, my police source says that your info can't be used to start an investigation because it's stolen."

"But I'm not a cop! Can't they use things ordinary citizens give them without looking at it too close?"

"Not on something this big. We're talking multi-state task force, FBI, IRS, and a couple more alphabet agencies chasing this maniac. And you pointed her right at us!"

Raoul's face fell. "Man, I'm really sorry. I didn't think it would get that heavy."

"Well, it has." Jimmy stomped to the far side of the room near the window, then turned to face his friends. "Look, we're all in danger, you two more than me. This woman is crazy dangerous and she's bound to make a try for you. I have the *Daily Planet* to give me some protection, but you guys don't have much of anything."

Raoul lifted his hands palms-out in a 'peace' gesture. "Easy, Jimmy, just take it easy. What do the police say we need to do?"

"Get out of the state, not just out of town. Go west somewhere, Chicago or farther. Your lives are in danger if you don't go and go now!"

Philip shook his head. "Sounds great, but I don't have any money to travel. And I just got my teaching assistant ticket and classes to teach at Metro University. I can't afford to leave town."

"The *Planet* will front you the money you need."

Raoul shook his head next. "I have a couple of job offers of my own in the works, Jim. If I disappear, so do they. I can't afford to leave town either."

Jimmy gritted his teeth and hissed. "You idiots! You can't afford to stay here! Arianna Carlin will find you and shoot you in the head! Or worse!"

Philip chuckled. "What could be worse than that?"

Jimmy opened his mouth to answer when he heard a scraping sound at his door. Jacked up with adrenalin, he grabbed his friends by their shirt collars, fell backwards, and pulled them down onto the floor behind his couch.

Before either of them could say anything to protest, Jimmy's apartment door blew open and someone emptied an assault rifle into the front room. Several bullets ripped through the couch above their heads and slammed into the wall behind them, as well as others which buried themselves in the plaster and wood around the room.

His smoke alarm went off almost immediately, along with a special strobe light in the ceiling which Jimmy had installed as an added security measure. The alarm's sing-song tone combined with the flashing of the strobe through the smoke of the explosion and the gunfire to create a surreal atmosphere.

The shooting stopped as abruptly as it began.

Philip had his face buried in the carpet and his hands over his head. Raoul was curled up in a fetal position beside him, breathing rapidly. Jimmy strained to listen, but the concussion of the explosion had created a high-pitched ringing in his ears.

There were no sounds of anyone walking through the living room -- at least, none that he could hear over the siren and the ringing -- so he risked a slow belly crawl to the end of the couch.

He got up on his hands and knees and peeked around the end of the couch.

Nothing.

He saw no one in the room, near the doorway, or in the hallway of the apartment building. He did, however, see a number of empty shell casings on the floor, along with the remnants of his front door.

He crept slowly to the shredded doorway and gingerly peeked out. All he saw was the heads of two of his neighbors looking out to see what had happened.

"Call the police!" he yelled. The man across the hall and three doors down wiggled the phone next to his head, indicating that he was indeed doing that very thing. The woman directly across the hallway, whose head was covered by a pink hairnet, seemed to be yelling something at Jimmy, but he heard none of what she said.

He stood, flipped off the security strobe and alarm, and leaned against the wall. The place was a total wreck. Every surface in the room was either peppered with debris or pockmarked with bullet holes.

He sighed. He knew he wasn't getting his security deposit back, not after this party.

***

Jimmy watched the officers go over his apartment with a fine-tooth comb. They catalogued every spent cartridge, every bullet hole, every burn mark, every piece of shrapnel, every shred of couch stuffing on the floor. They had even partially reassembled his front door in the hallway outside.

Philip was sitting on Jimmy's bed, being questioned by the same scruffy detective he'd seen at Cat's apartment a few nights before. Raoul was in the kitchen being debriefed by Bill Henderson himself. Jimmy had already given his statement to the attractive Officer O'Brian, the woman he'd met at Cat's apartment, whose first name, he had learned, was Leticia. Now he and Leticia stood beside the ruined couch, waiting for the crime scene techs to finish their work.

"How are your ears now?" asked Leticia. "Can you hear me okay?"

"Yes. Still a little ringing, but it seems to be fading." Jimmy shook his head and sighed deeply. "You know, I liked that couch. It was a good couch. Too bad Carlin had to shoot it up."

"Are you sure it was Arianna Carlin, Jimmy?"

He shook his head again. "I didn't see her, didn't hear her voice, but I can't think of anyone who's that mad at me except her. She, or whoever she hired, just blew the door down and started shooting."

"And you say that Dr. Carlin knows it was you -- your group, I mean -- that hacked into her offshore accounts?"

"Again, if it wasn't her, I have no idea who else it might be."

"Jealous boyfriend, maybe? Spurned girlfriend?"

He looked at her and almost smiled. "I wish it were that easy, but I haven't had the time to date anyone seriously for more than a year. Closest I came was with Morgana."

"Who's that?"

"Morgana? She's a musician and an amateur scientist. She and Rebecca Connors were working on a biology project for Becca's undergrad degree about three years ago, and they invited Raoul to help them with the computer setup. He brought in Philip – he hates being called Phil -- and Philip called me for help on the technical stuff." He chuckled. "Turns out that the five of us together make one whale of a cracker-hunter team."

"Cracker? Don't you mean hacker? And aren't those the guys who break into computer systems and steal data and erase people's files?"

"No! Just the opposite. Those guys -- the bad guys – are crackers, and us hackers -- the good guys -- go after them. We helped the FBI catch some computer-savvy bank thieves a couple of years ago, and just a while back we -- that is, Raoul -- penetrated Carlin's offshore accounts and gave transaction dates and amounts to the District Attorney. He even dug out Carlin's personal account number."

"I hadn't heard about any of that."

"That's because we didn't want this"--he waved at the apartment--"to happen. I don't know how she spotted us, but I figure she must have had a backtrace set up in the bank's computer to let her know if anyone got into her account. I guess Raoul was so excited to get in the system he missed it. That kind of thing can be hard to catch unless you're looking for it, and I guess he figured she felt safe enough out there."

"So her offshore accounts are frozen now?"

He sighed again. "I wish. The DA has to make an arrest, then track the money independent of our hacking to make any kind of case using it. Mr. Riesman told us thanks for the info, now knock it off before we blow his case." He shrugged. "I hope this jump-starts the investigation, because I don't think I can take getting shot at very often."

Leticia leaned closer and said in a low voice, "I think you're doing very well, Jimmy. A lot better than your friends, in fact."

Jimmy listened to the raised voices coming from different directions in his apartment. "Yeah, well, unfortunately I have more experience at this kind of thing than they do."

A knock on the shredded door frame caught their attention. "Jimmy?" asked Lois. "Are you okay?"

He smiled in relief. "I'm good, Lois. thanks. Don't come in, okay? This is still a crime scene."

Leticia took a step toward the door. "Please identify yourself, ma'am."

Lois flipped open her press pass and held it up. "My name is Lois Lane. I'm with the *Daily Planet*. I work with Jimmy and I was worried about him. I heard about this on the news, and I wanted to make sure he had a place to spend the night." She looked around and grimaced. "You sure don't want to stay here."

Leticia said, "The city can provide a safe place for him, Ms. Lane."

Lois put her pass away. "Given the level of carnage Arianna Carlin has spread around the past week, I suspect that Jimmy's still in danger."

"Yes, ma'am. That's why the police department should provide a safe place for him."

Henderson came out of the kitchen. "I thought I heard your voice, Lane. Knew you couldn't stay away from a train wreck like this."

"As I live and breathe, it's Metropolis' answer to the Dark Knight, all moody and brooding. Anything for publication, Bill?"

"Nope. And I won't until we find Carlin." He turned his attention to Jimmy. "Olsen, you didn't leave town."

Jimmy gave him a deadpan stare. "What gave me away, Inspector?"

Henderson almost snarled and all but leaped across the room. "I don't like people shooting the citizens of my city! Especially when I told you to tell them to leave town! And as I remember it, I didn't just ask you to leave, I told you to leave! I don't want you idiots dead on my watch! I want you alive and breathing and working and paying taxes and paying my salary! Now are you going or do I have to arrest all three of you?"

Jimmy looked at Lois, who shrugged from the doorway. Then he turned to Henderson. "Okay, Inspector, I give up. Take us, all three of us, to your finest safe house."

Henderson, who seemed to have gotten himself under control, frowned. "Can't. The woman we have in custody already gave us two of our safe house locations, and we can't be sure how many more Carlin knows about. We have to do something else."

Lois looked around the room. "You know a good maid service?"

"Ha, chuckle, guffaw, and tee-hee, Lane. Not to mention giggle and snort."

"You forgot the chortle."

Jimmy was astonished to see Henderson fighting a smile. "Okay, Lane, I give up. What should we do with our three little lambs who have obviously lost their way?"

Lois assumed an exaggerated thinking pose. "Well, aside from leading them in the Whiffenpoof Song, you might let them come with me. I think I can find them a safe place to be for a few days."

"Good. As long as you let me know where they are, that is."

Lois' face morphed into a Cheshire Cat smile. "Why, my dear Inspector, I wouldn't have it any other way."

Another uniformed officer leaned past Lois. "Excuse me, please, ma'am. Inspector Henderson? We got a body down in the alley beside the building. A tenant found the deceased face-down on the ground when she went to the dumpster to take out the garbage."

"I'm not done here. Call the precinct for another detective."

"Well, I'm pretty sure it's related to this case."

Henderson leaned forward slightly. "What makes you say that?"

"The recently departed was wearing a ski mask, gloves, and a gray jumpsuit. He also had an empty AK-47 under his right arm."

Henderson's eyebrows rose. "You're right, that is interesting. Can you tell the cause of death?"

The officer shrugged. "Can't be sure, but I don't think the two small bullet holes in the base of his skull did him any good."

"How small?"

"ME will have to extract them, but I'd guess a twenty-two or a twenty-five. Close range, too. There's what looks like gunpowder residue in his hair and on the back of the mask."

Henderson turned to Jimmy. "Looks like Carlin is trying to clean up all her loose ends. When did you say you three guys were leaving town?"

Jimmy looked at Lois. "First thing tomorrow morning, Inspector. I promise."

"Tonight would be better."

"Inspector?" Lois said. "I think I know just the place to park these three miscreants."

***

Arianna was furious. She'd risked everything to strike Olsen quickly. When she learned that the other two male members of the group tracking her were going to meet with him, she decided to hit the place with a frontal assault.

But the idiot she'd hired had botched the job. Instead of entering the room and making sure the targets were dead, he had simply sprayed the apartment with his assault rifle and run. He'd proven he was a waste of DNA when he turned his back on her. The only positive aspect of this job was that she didn't have to pay him.

The biggest problem was that now she had to disappear again. And she was running out of rabbit holes to dive into. A quick mental evaluation told her that the closest and safest place was the parking garage across from Lex' building. It was unlikely that the police would look for her there, and she'd have the chance to take care of these so-called Dangerous Boys at a later date.

No one had seen her near the dumpster, no one had seen her shoot the incompetent gunman, and no one had recognized her in scarf and sunglasses as she strode out of the other end of the alley. It was an eight-block hike to the garage entrance, then three more blocks underground, but there was a serviceable bed, a store of preserved military rations, fresh water, a small but clean bathroom with a shower, and a change of clothes waiting for her. She could remain hidden for several days, if necessary, and no one would ever know she was there.

Maybe she could arrange a final meeting with dear Lex, too.

***

Lois leaned out her Jeep's driver's side window and tossed the keys to Perry's fishing cabin to Jimmy. "You have dried food and fresh water, clean linens, a VCR with a hundred movies, and a state-of-the-art computer with a satellite Internet connection. You boys be neat, okay? Don't let anyone see you. And no fires!"

"Yes, Mommy," whined Jimmy. "We promise to be good."

"Don't go there, Jimmy. I'll tie your arms in knots behind your head if you do."

Jimmy leaned down to Lois' Jeep window. "Lois. I know what's going on and how much danger we're in. Raoul and Phil got shot at for the first time tonight. They're too scared to do anything but keep their heads down, and I have my phone handy. If anything happens I'll call you, then Henderson, then we'll run for the hills through the back door."

She tried to keep the mist from her eyes, but she knew she couldn't. "Well." She cleared her throat. "I just don't -- don't want to lose anyone else."

Jimmy put his hand on her shoulder. "We'll be fine. Really."

She nodded and turned the ignition. "Okay. See you in a few days."

She drove away, but not far. Just over the second hill, she pulled off the dirt road under a stand of trees and stepped out. She listened, then looked around.

No one nearby.

A whirl of dust and starlight and Ultra Woman lifted up from the ground.

Her patrol route took in a ten-mile radius around the cabin. At four thousand feet, she could see further than that, and no one on the ground was likely to identify her, much less see her clearly. As long as she dodged low-flying aircraft she'd be fine.

And so would those three young men.

The wind from her flight dried her tears even as she shed them. When she'd picked up the emergency call for Jimmy's apartment, that shots had been fired, she feared the worst. Had Carlin succeeded in killing Jimmy, Lois would have begun her own search for the woman and not stopped until Carlin had been found. When she'd learned that Jimmy and his buddies were alive and unhurt, she'd almost driven off the road in relief.

She wasn't sure she could have taken that blow. Cat's death, her spying on the newsroom, her reporting to Perry and the DA, all conspired to knock a huge hole in Lois' self-image. There was no reasonable doubt that Carlin had killed Cat for going to the police. And there was no doubt that Lois had completely missed any indication that there was a spy in the newsroom, much less that it was Cat.

She'd never have lunch with Cat again, never share tidbits of gossip with her, never watch her smile and make men jump over themselves to please her, never hear her unexpectedly deep and personal insights, never laugh with her again--

It was almost too much. Cat's death and the revelation of her secrets had nearly broken her. It was worse than the incident with the three home invaders. Lois had trusted Cat, had depended on her friendship, and she'd never suspected that the other girl was giving sensitive and sometimes secret information to a mass murderer.

What else had she missed? Had she missed something about the people close to her? Was there something about Rebecca or Perry or Jimmy she should know but didn't?

Was there something about Clark--

No. Clark was exactly who he appeared to be, either in the Suit or in civilian clothes. She would bet her life that anything she didn't already know about Clark didn't matter. He was a true hero and she owed him her life several times over. And the link they shared would have revealed his secrets by now, had he had any she needed to know.

Clark was honest and good and true. He was the best friend she'd ever had -- Cat included -- and she loved him. He--

Wait a minute.

Lex. She loved Lex, not Clark. Clark was a great guy and Rebecca was lucky to have him in her life, even if she kept trying to pull him away from being Superman. Becca loved Clark, so it was natural that she wanted to spend time with him.

And she had a date with Lex on Saturday night. This was no time to overturn her heart, especially when there was no one to turn to. Clark would be her friend forever, but that was all he'd be.

Her head was surprised at the flow of sadness from her heart at the thought.

Enough mental musings. She needed to focus on this sweep of the area. And if it remained as clear as it was so far, maybe she'd drop in and see Bob. She hadn't spoken to the artificial intelligence for some time, and she knew he'd want to take readings or some such thing to check up on her.

Just once more around the perimeter, just to make sure.

***

Bob? This is Lois.

<< Greetings, Lois. It is pleasant to converse with you. >>

Yeah, me too. I -- I dropped by to let you take some readings from me.

<< While it is true that obtaining more physiological data from you would be a positive development, that is not why you are here. >>

Oh. Right. Would you believe -- um -- I dropped by for a review of my financials?

<< No. >>

Drat. Missed it by that much.

<< You are attempting to use humor to mask your pain. If you wish for me to surmise the probable reasons for your emotional discomfort, I am able to do so, but I prefer a more direct method in data input. >>

So you just want me to tell you, right?

<< Yes. >>

You sure you don't want to guess?

<< While Clark believes that I could have some success as a 'radio psychologist,' I have no innate understanding of human emotions or interactions. They are too complex to be broken down into equations, and there are too many variables whose values and weights change from moment to moment in the same person, never mind from one person to the next. >>

So you don't want to guess?

<< No. >>

Okay. I -- I had no idea Cat Grant was spying on us for Arianna Carlin.

<< This is a true statement? >>

Yes. But she was also passing everything to Perry and the District Attorney's office, too, so I guess that makes her a double agent or something. And I also found out that the reason she was reporting to Carlin was because Carlin bought Cat's gambling debt that she ran up in college, and she was also threatening her parents in Georgia. I took care of the bad guys in Georgia, but Carlin got to Cat and -- and killed her.

<< May I have a moment, please? >>

Sure. Just don't take too long.

<< >>

Um, Bob? Hey, Bob, are you still on the air?

<< Yes. Thank you for being patient. I had not accessed all of the information you have just given me, since it was not released for national publication. I was aware of the murder, but I was not aware of the intricacies of the ties binding Ms. Grant to Dr. Carlin, nor of her importance in yours and Clark's lives. Now that I know where to look, I am able to read the databases of both the police and District Attorney in Metropolis to gather all the pertinent details. >>

Huh. Never knew you could get caught with your variables down.

<< If you mean that you are surprised that I do not have all existing information in the world ready for immediate retrieval, please remember that I am a finite artificial being. I cannot know everything. >>

I see. Then maybe I shouldn't ask you what I came here to ask you.

<< You are more than welcome to ask, but I may not know the answer. And if the question involves human interpersonal relationships, it is likely that I will not be able to provide a satisfactory response. >>

Okay. Let me try anyway.

<< Please proceed. >>

Here goes. Do you think -- no, can you calculate that Lex Luthor and I should get married?

<< This is not a matter for numeric calculations, Lois. This is something you must decide for yourself. I can ask you questions which are designed to guide you to your own answer, but I cannot supply the correct response. I can advise you, I can point you in a general direction, but I cannot give you a definite answer. I know of no machine intelligence which could do so. >>

Hmm. Okay. Why don't you ask me some questions and see what happens?

<< Very well. Please respond without considering your answer. If, for example, I say the name Lex Luthor, what impressions come to your mind? >>

Rich. Good laugh. Powerful. Great dance partner. Likes music and plays a pretty good blues piano. Inspires loyalty in his employees. Good-looking in a slightly rugged way. Nice guy, too. Did you know Rebecca plans to go back to work for LexCorp when she's recovered just because Lex is her boss?

<< I did not, but that is not germane to this discussion. >>

Is that enough of an answer?

<< Yes. Please respond in the same way to the name Perry White.

>>

Oh, Perry? He's the greatest boss ever. He's firm but not mean, demanding but fair, and at heart he's a great big pussycat.

<< Thank you. Now please respond to the name Rebecca Connors. >>

Ah, Becca. She's cute, perky, brilliant, friendly, ambitious, determined, a little bit sneaky, has great hair but isn't vain about it, loyal to her friends, and -- well, she's just a darned nice girl.

<< Thank you. Once more, please respond to the name Clark Kent. >>

Wow. I -- uh -- Clark's the greatest. Friend, I mean. In the world. He has all those powers and won't use them for personal gain, which is totally cool because not even I could stop him if he went all Darth Vader on us, and he helped me figure out how to control mine when I got them and he never got jealous or anything and never resented me getting some of the publicity he'd been getting because he sure could have and--

<< Thank you, Lois. I believe you have an answer to your question. >>

Huh? What answer?

<< The question of whether or not you should marry Lex Luthor. >>

But you haven't told me what I should do!

<< No. But I believe you have. >>

Well, yeah, maybe I'd understand all that if you came with a decoder ring! What am I supposed to do?

<< I do not often advocate that humans follow their hearts. Too often, humans are focused on their own desires and needs to the exclusion of the desires and needs of other people, and those desires are often not conducive to civilized behavior. But in your specific case, you wish to know if you should wed a particular man. I cannot give you the answer. You must find that answer within yourself. >>

In other words, I should follow my heart?

<< In this case, yes. >>

You're a big help, you know that?

<< I have assisted you to the limits of my programming and my design. I regret that I cannot go beyond these limitations, as I am not human. >>

You could have at least given me a name!

<< No, I could not. I am unable to supply that data for you. The only concrete advice I can offer is that you should not compromise yourself when and if you marry. This course of action is a serious one, a course guaranteed to bring you both joy and heartache, and that assumes that you marry a man as committed to you as you must be committed to him. >>

But -- but that's just common sense! Who'd miss something that obvious?

<< If the divorce statistics of this nation are to be trusted, it is sense which is far less common than you assert. I can tell you no more, Lois. I wish you well on this, your own personal quest for a life mate. >>

Oh. Then -- our conversation is over?

<< Not if you wish to continue. But I have exhausted my store of counsel for you on this subject. I have nothing more to offer. >>

Okay. Then -- I guess this is good night, huh?

<< Good night, Lois. Have a pleasant flight home. >>

Chapter Twelve

Lois was looking forward to her date. She was having dinner not with Lex Luthor, the fourth richest man in the world, but with Alex Winfield, computer programmer and all-around regular guy. Dinner at Mike's would be followed by a quick trip to Stern Communications Stadium to watch the hometown Dragons take the diamond against their division rival Gotham Spiders. Both teams were vying for the title and a shot at the World Series, and this late in the season every game counted. It was bound to be hotly contested and fun to watch.

Lois giggled as she thought about the visiting team's logo and decided anew that -- super-powered or not -- she could never play baseball with a snarling arachnid stitched to her cap. All she'd be able to think about would be those eight hairy legs crawling down onto her face as she tried to field a pop-up or swing at a pitch in her wheelhouse.

I'll have to run that one by Cat the next--

No. She couldn't.

And she realized anew that she'd never see Cat Grant again. She leaned against the cab window, closed her eyes, and let one tear from each eye slip down her face. Both Dr. Friskin and Martha had told her that the pain would ease with time, that she'd learn to deal with it, but that it would never go away completely.

She remembered Cat telling her about a best friend she'd lost at age twelve and how the pain would occasionally pop up seemingly out of nowhere and startle her. Lois sighed. Cat had joined Lana in Lois' heart as a lost friend, making that emptiness just a bit larger.

She'd lost two good friends to the violence embodied by Arianna Carlin. There would be no more, she vowed again. No one else will suffer because of that evil woman.

However, there was nothing she could do about it now. Carlin had vanished again, and until the woman showed her face somewhere the only thing to do was to wait. And everyone needed a break now and then, even Ultra Woman. So Lois wiped her face, fixed her minimal makeup, and prepared to have a fun evening with the man who claimed to love her more than life or money.

But when she opened the front door to Lex' apartment, she found him sitting in the middle of the front room surrounded by piles of paper of various sizes, shapes, and colors. And neither his body language nor the bit of his face that she could see made her think this was anything but good news.

"Lex? What happened? What's wrong?"

His head slowly rotated in her direction. "Oh, no," he moaned.

She stopped and planted one hand on her hip. "That's not exactly the reaction any woman would want from her date."

He rose with a groan and a momentary limp. "Lois, my dear, I'm so sorry. I completely forgot about our date tonight."

She grinned and took his hands. "I forgive you. Now just go throw on some jeans and sneakers so we'll match and--"

"I can't go."

She stopped with her mouth open, then closed it and nodded once. "Okay. The Spiders are in town for a four-game series, so maybe tomorrow--"

"No, Lois. I'm very sorry." He turned and gestured at the papers around him. "I have two board meetings on Monday and one on Tuesday with various groups of people who want either answers or my head, and I'm not certain many of them have a preference for answers. They want to know what effect Arianna's duplicity and Nigel's criminal behavior will have on my business ventures, and I must have concrete answers for them." He sighed. "Unfortunately, my accounting team has been unable to ferret out the answers to those very valid questions, and I am afraid that the task may be beyond my own capabilities."

"Oh." She looked at the almost-defeated expression on his face and sighed. "I'm sorry I was so selfish."

He turned and hugged her firmly but not passionately. "You were not being selfish. You had no idea that this had happened. I should have called you and explained the situation."

She leaned back. "I understand completely."

He smiled. "Thank you. I will try to make it up to you next week." He relaxed his embrace and leaned back. "Assuming, of course, I still have a business to run."

She frowned and looked around, then stepped back. "I could help you."

"Excuse me?"

"I could help you work through this stuff."

"What? Lois, I can't ask you to do that!"

"You're not asking. I'm offering. Besides, you look like you could use a break."

He rubbed his face with his hands. "I won't deny that. But Monday is coming whether I work or play or sleep or just sit at the piano all weekend. At any rate, my dear, I don't recall that you have any training or experience in finance."

She put both hands on her hips and leaned closer. "I'm an investigative reporter, Lex. I can spot something out of the ordinary even if I don't know exactly what the problem is. And I can recognize patterns and put items together with the best accountant. On top of that, a fresh and uncluttered perspective might just be the thing you need right now."

He put his hands out and waved them at the room full of documents. "I freely admit that a second pair of hands would help, but we're still talking about a two-week job that has to be finished by nine o'clock Monday morning. I just don't think we can get this done by that time."

"You're forgetting something."

"What?"

"I'm a little faster than the average bear."

Before Lex could respond, she zipped around the room for less than a second. One piece of paper fluttered towards the floor, but she caught it before it landed. "Here's the summary of special expenses for April of this year."

He blinked. "Yes?"

She handed him two other sheets and pointed at the top one. "This one is an invoice for $916 in office supplies."

"That's not unusual. The executive floor alone--"

"This second sheet is also an invoice for $916. Same supplier, same date, same item breakdown, paid by different checks." She lowered all three papers. "One or both of these orders was skimmed, Lex. And"--she lifted one invoice--"Ogilvie Office Supply probably didn't get both checks. Nigel probably directed one towards Arianna, assuming he didn't just put it in his pocket."

Lex reached out and snatched all three pieces of paper. "How did you -- no, I know how you did that. But what made you look for them?"

"The date and the amount. When I looked closer I saw that the invoices looked identical, so I looked for the expense summary. There's one listing for Ogilvie and one for Oglesby, close enough to be missed by anyone who's not an auditor. And speaking of that, you might want to call in an outside auditing firm after your board meetings. Arianna probably has people on the inside."

"I've worked with these people for years, Lois! I trust them completely! They've never done anything that would cause me to doubt them!"

She lifted her hands. "Hey, I could be completely wrong about that. I don't know them or anything about them, and I have no evidence that they're anything but squeaky clean. But I still say that I can organize this mess faster than any five normal people."

Lex sighed, then nodded slowly. "You've convinced me. How can I help?"

She crossed her arms and glanced around. "I don't want to come across as superior or anything, but the best thing you could do for now is just stand back." One corner of her mouth curled up. "Better yet, you could go get some Chinese takeout."

"What? But Lois, I can't leave this information in possession of someone who's not an officer of the company! It's against the bylaws!"

"Okay. Then either stand way back or go get something from the kitchen and put it on to cook. I'll have a preliminary summary of possible problems in about forty minutes if I can go full speed, and then you'll have to figure out what's legit and what's not."

He sighed deeply and waved his hands helplessly. "Take it away, Ultra Woman!"

She watched him stalk into the kitchen without looking back. Hope I haven't bruised his self-image too badly, she thought.

***

Lex turned on the oven and set it to pre-heat, then opened the refrigerator and pulled out the ingredients he needed to make a lasagna. He fumed to himself as he opened a container of sauce, a box of noodles, all the cheeses, and put everything together in the pan. He was the businessman, he was the financial genius, not Lois! These were his companies, and it was his responsibility to answer the questions put to him by the various boards!

As he checked the oven temperature and turned to prepare the garlic bread, he told himself to get a grip. If Ultra Woman -- Lois -- could help him to answer those questions honestly and completely, if she could help him satisfy their concerns, then it was the right thing to do, even if it bent his pride a bit.

He chuckled ruefully to himself. He'd never win any physical contest with Lois, no matter what it was, and she was at least as intelligent as he if not more. The only arena in which he could possibly outperform her was the business and financial one. He needed to feel that he had some kind of advantage over Lois in some area, else he'd risk becoming completely dependent on her.

And that was the problem, wasn't it? His ego had just taken a serious blow, on top of the one he'd suffered in admitting that he couldn't sort through all those papers by himself. Lois could make some general sense out of that mess in there far faster than he could, and it galled him. But as he slid the pasta into the oven, he realized that the mission was to get those records in order, not to prove himself better than Lois at something. It really didn't matter which of them performed that task as long as it got done.

What a big man he was! He resented being pushed to the side by a woman as she did his job, and did it far better than he could.

He wished he could convince her to stay with him. For the entire night. And maybe even for the rest of their lives.

The thought pleased him greatly. The only thing that might please him more would be her agreement to his plan.

As he stirred the tea, he realized that the whirlwind sounds from the other room had stopped. Lois cautiously poked her head around the corner. "How's it going in here?"

"Very well, actually. There will be a lasagna, a salad with my own special Italian dressing, iced tea, and if you can spare me for a few more minutes, garlic bread."

Her soft smile lit up her face. "Sounds delicious. And the lasagna smells great."

She hesitated and he stopped with the bread knife in his hand. "Have you hit a wall already?"

"No -- not really. It's just -- I thought I should let you know that the information out there was sorted by industry and company, and a lot of the questionable transactions I've already found tend to go between companies at least twice. Working at normal speed, you never could have found them by Monday. Did you re-sort those papers or was it stacked that way when you got it?"

He frowned. "The way you found it was the way it was given to me. My actuarial staff sent it over with a note asking me to keep it -- oh. Oh, my."

She tilted her head. "What is it?"

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Upon reflection, I believe you were right to suspect chicanery in the actuarial department. It appears that Nigel may have had his fingers buried deep in the Lex Industries financial infrastructure. If the auditing staff was involved in the cover-up, then they had to know about the embezzlement as it was happening, and they also had to know how difficult it would have been for me to unravel all that information by myself."

"That's likely, but that's not something I'd be able to figure out from just looking at this data. That's why I can't do this alone. I can do the preliminary stuff really fast, and I can point to things that don't look right, but I can't be certain what's kosher and what's not without your expertise."

He stepped around the counter and kissed her forehead. "Thank you for rebuilding my shattered ego, my dear."

She stepped back. "That's not what I'm doing! I'm not sugarcoating this for you, Lex, I really do need your help. At least, I will when I'm finished sorting all this stuff."

He smiled. "I'm sorry. I was trying to make a joke. That should remind me why I am not doing standup comedy for a living." He made shooing motions at her. "Now please leave my kitchen and complete your task. I will call you when dinner is ready."

She smiled easily. "Okay, boss man. Sheesh, you're such a slave driver."

"You may address me as High Commander."

Her voice bounced around the corner of the kitchen. "In your dreams, Lex, and maybe not even then." Then the whirlwind sounds returned.

He smiled as he returned to his domestic chores. There was definitely hope for the two of them. A great deal of hope.

***

They both had a good time at dinner. Examining the documents stacked up in the study did not make for a good time.

Lois handed Lex another handful of paper. "This one concerns Vasquez Construction, Inc. They did some site work at one of the secondary LexLabs facilities. Parking lot street access, foundation pouring, and the electrical wiring for the parking lot lighting." She pointed to the amount on the first page. "This is what Vasquez billed LexCorp."

Lex nodded. "It looks correct to me."

"It probably is. But take a look at the second sheet."

Lex shuffled the papers, and after a moment he frowned. "Why were two checks cut for this payment?" He looked closer. "And both on the same day?"

Lois grimaced. "I'd guess that Nigel took the smaller check and 'convinced' Mr. Vasquez to accept the partial payment. The difference is over $2,000 dollars on a $42,000 contract. On a job that size, $2,000 would have cut deeply into his profit margin."

He nodded. "I believe that we met this man several months ago. Remember our date at the Miller concert? The bar where we had drinks after the show?"

Her eyes widened. "Yes! The one where -- oh, what was her name -- Rosita! Where Rosita took me aside and told me that Fernando hunted trouble when he'd been drinking. That was Fernando Vasquez?"

"Yes. His anger at Lex Luthor does not appear to have been misplaced after all."

She put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Lex."

He sighed and nodded. "This makes sixteen -- or is it seventeen? Seventeen different instances in the current calendar year where Nigel diverted funds from my projects for personal gain. And these are just the ones of which I am aware. Surely there must be many more." He slapped the papers together and shoved them down beside the chair. "It's quite apparent that I am a horrible judge of both character and my own business acumen." He stood up and rubbed his neck with both hands. "Perhaps the board members are correct. Perhaps I should step down."

Lois stood beside him and spoke softly. "Nigel fooled a lot of people, Lex, not just you. From what you could see, your businesses were taking off and making money hand over fist. You shouldn't blame yourself for one mistake."

He chuckled humorlessly. "Even if that one mistake cost more than fifty people their lives? Would you excuse me for even that excess?"

"You didn't kill those people. Nigel did, and he did it because Arianna Carlin told him to. She's the one responsible for those deaths, not you."

He turned to face her and dropped his hands. "I cannot simply ignore my culpability. Asabi warned me about Nigel on more than one occasion and I dismissed his concerns because Nigel appeared to be helping me to succeed."

"He did help you."

His voice rose. "By 'convincing' people to accept being cheated? By suborning my in-house accounting and legal teams to cover his tracks? By killing people? No, I am not without guilt in this matter."

He turned away and leaned against a wall. Lois stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his chest from behind. "And now you have the opportunity to make those wrongs right. You can live up to your responsibility for what Nigel and Arianna did and atone for your mistakes." She slowly turned him to face her. "I know you want to do the right thing, Lex, but I've learned that doing the right thing often means doing the thing you least want to do. It would be easy to cut and run, to hide from this, but it wouldn't make things right! You need to face those directors and reveal the truth." She cupped his face with her hands. "And I can't do this for you, no matter how much I might want to. This is definitely not a job for Ultra Woman."

He smiled slightly and pulled her close. "I know. I'm tired and frustrated, but I'm sure I'll feel better in the morning." He bent down and kissed her softly. "Thank you, both for what you have said and for what you have done." He smiled. "You know, I am fairly certain that I am madly in love with you."

She smiled back and kissed him lightly on the nose. "Thank you for that, too. And as much as I would like to help you with the rest of this, I have a patrol to make tonight before I go to bed. I'm sorry, but I need to go."

He let her slip from his embrace but caught her hands. "Lois?"

"Yes?"

Now. He had to ask her now. "Would you -- would you consider returning here after your patrol?"

She lowered her eyebrows. "To work on this mess some more?"

"No." He licked his lips. "To -- to spend the night with me."

Her jaw dropped. "Oh." She didn't speak for a long moment. "Lex, I -- I--"

He sighed again and squeezed her hands. "Never mind. I was out of line to suggest such a course of action. I'm sorry."

"No, Lex, it's not that--"

"Yes, it is. You are not ready for such a step in our relationship, and I should have been aware of that fact. I apologize."

"Please understand, Lex, you don't--"

He stopped her lips with a finger. "I do understand. Truly I do. My only defense is that you have completely bewitched me with your beauty."

Her face softened. "You are such a terrific flatterer."

He smiled. "Thank you, although I do not believe something is classed as flattery if it is completely true. Now go and perform your patrol. I'm sure Clark will rest easier knowing that you are on the job."

She didn't smile back. "I'm sorry."

"No. I am the one who should be sorry." He released her and stepped back to open the door. "Thank you for all your help. I believe I can make some sense of this now."

She ducked her gaze and turned to find her purse, then walked slowly towards the door. He stopped her with a feather touch. "Lois? Will you -- might you have an early dinner with me tomorrow? At the penthouse, where you first -- interviewed me?"

She met his look. "Yes, I will. What time?"

"Four, I think. We can make it a very late lunch or a very early dinner with plenty of time to talk afterwards. If you are willing to risk it, I will cook again, and this time it will not be such a hurried affair."

She nodded. "Four o'clock it is. I'll see you then."

"Shall I send Asabi to chauffeur you?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "That would be nice. Thank you."

"I shall ask him to pick you up at three forty, if that would be acceptable."

She managed a small smile. "Sounds good to me. Three forty it is, followed by dinner at four." Her eyes shimmered slightly. "What's on the menu?"

He almost laughed. "I believe I shall surprise you."

"I look forward to it." She leaned towards the door, but hesitated. Then she pulled him close to her and kissed him, soft and sweet and tender. "Until tomorrow afternoon."

As the door closed behind her, Lex tried to catch up on his breathing. He seemed to have forgotten to inhale.

Tomorrow afternoon would not come quickly enough for him.

***

By the time an exhausted Lex Luthor went to bed well past the midnight hour, he'd documented a total of thirty-seven confirmed instances of corruption within his organization and fifty-one probable cases. And he'd made enough connections to people on his actuarial staff to call in the District Attorney, who would probably empanel a grand jury and start filing any number of criminal charges.

Some of those charges would be laid at his feet, he knew. He didn't want to face them, but he knew he'd have to. It would be his punishment for hiring a thief and murderer.

Nigel had always been quiet and even a bit secretive, but he'd always performed whatever task he'd been given. It was a shock to learn how much more he'd done over the years. Lex wondered how much of the stolen money had been routed to Nigel's personal accounts and how much had gone to Arianna.

Ah, dear Arianna. Dear sweet, vicious, deadly Arianna. It was too bad the operation to detain her had failed. Some of the pressure he was under now might have already been alleviated had she not remained free. He knew she was still active, even if she was now working from behind the scenes instead of just being invisible in the public eye. She'd learned her lessons altogether too well, and thus far she had eluded the long arm of the law.

But now it was time for her to face justice, and Lex was determined not to allow her to bring him down. He'd fight back with every weapon at his disposal, and he'd win. It would surely cost him a great deal, but he'd see her in prison -- or accept death himself -- before he'd surrender to her onslaught. And the board meeting on Monday where they would surely try to force him out of his own company was surely her doing, just as the labyrinth of accounting he was facing was surely hers also. Thanks to Lois, however, that particular hurdle would be far easier to overcome.

And perhaps, thanks to Lois, he could also announce a new personal beginning to the world, that of a newly engaged man.

No prenuptial agreement would be required. Lois was far too honorable and honest to take cab fare from him without his knowledge, much less any significant money or property. In fact, when she learned that she was already one of his main beneficiaries, she would certainly mount a vigorous protest. But he knew that her innate openness and integrity would see her through any difficulties she might encounter along those lines.

And she'd have Superman as a personal advisor if she wished. Lex didn't particularly like Clark Kent, but he did respect him both as a journalist and as a person. The two men had too many differences to be close friends, but Lex hoped that Clark thought as highly of him as he thought of Clark. If Lois needed any counsel at all, Clark would give her the most honest and forthright advice of anyone Lex could think of.

He slid under the covers and closed his eyes. Normal humans needed sleep in order to function at peak efficiency, and Lex had to be at his best for the next three days. He had a board meeting to prepare for, criminals to uncover, a dinner to prepare, and a proposal of marriage to deliver. He was swamped, and he needed rest. After all, if you haven't got your health, you don't have much of anything.

And he was very tired. He slipped into the welcoming arms of Morpheus almost immediately.

***

Arianna put down her binoculars and smiled to herself. The Lane woman had left hours before, and Lex' apartment lights had just now dimmed. She was sure he'd be baffled by the interlocking accounting trails she and Nigel had laid over the past year. The board would surely relieve him of his duties on Monday, and she'd be one step closer to her ultimate revenge against him, a truly wonderful going-away gift from her. It wasn't quite as sweet as she thought it would be, though.

A thought crossed her mind. She dismissed it immediately, then called it back for further consideration.

Yes. Yes! That might be even better. She could arrange it so that the board meeting would be a mere formality, a recognition of Lex Luthor's past service to his various companies, a requiem for a fallen community leader and philanthropist. He wouldn't see it, wouldn't know of it, but she'd know. And it would be truly sweet. It would be a day she could take out of her memory at any time to savor and taste all over again, a day she could frame in her remembrances of things past which would validate her life and her real achievements.

It would fit with her getaway plans, too. Preventing Lex from making any more wild accusations against her would ease her escape. She could already feel the sun on her skin and hear the surf gently caressing the beach where she would spend her money. And the nice part was that the beach she'd picked out lacked an extradition treaty with the United States. All she had to do was to put the plan in motion.

And the best way to do that would be to kill dear Lex herself. This job would not be sub-contracted out to some thumb-fingered dolt with a metal pipe or a Swiss army knife. No more hiring contractors to blow up doors and shoot up apartments. She'd perform the lovely deed herself, using the very nine-millimeter pistol with which Lex had taught her to shoot.

Of course, she'd always have her backup weapon. Her dainty twenty-five caliber semi-auto had served her well over the years, most recently dispatching the Grant woman and the inept failure who'd tried for three of the hackers who'd invaded her financial privacy, and she just wouldn't feel fully dressed without it resting in her purse. Not to mention that last shard of Kryptonite, her defense in case Super-Goof or the Ultra Bimbo tried to capture her. A quick dose of green, a small-caliber bullet between the eyes, and she'd be free from them forever.

When? Tonight? No, it was too late. The building was locked up for the weekend, and the secret passages Nigel had shared with her were useless without some entrance into the building itself, even if it was merely the parking garage. No, she'd bring water and some dried food and sneak into one of the dead Brit's hidey-holes early in the morning to await the perfect moment.

Arianna didn't know when that moment would come, but she was sure she'd recognize it when it arrived, the perfect final act in her career. Lex had taught her many things, some of which were not the lessons he'd intended that she learn, but he had also shown her the most important lesson -- that winning wasn't everything, it was the only thing.

And she was determined to win, no matter who her opponent might be.

Chapter Thirteen

The swim park had been a bit cold this late in the year, but fun nonetheless. Despite her fair complexion, Rebecca didn't sunburn easily as long as she worked up to longer exposures over a couple of weeks and remembered her sunblock. And so far, this Saturday had been one of the best in her memory. She was still surprised at Clark's awkwardness in the water, but after she thought about it, she realized that his powers made what would be basic swimming skills for someone else totally useless to him. Still, she could tell he'd enjoyed her love for the water and her abilities afloat. Her favorite move had been popping up in front of him inches from his face, grabbing his neck, and yanking him under the surface. Those kisses had been some very memorable wet ones.

And the day wasn't over yet.

Rebecca stepped back as Clark unlocked his apartment and snapped him on the rear end with her towel. He jumped as it popped against his backside and he turned to grab the towel before she could retrieve it. He pulled her into a hug, which she turned into a long soft kiss, which he returned with less enthusiasm than she would have preferred.

She pulled back and forced a smile up at him. "I really need to change clothes, Clark. Let's go inside."

He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. She looked around and nodded. "Oh, I really love what you've done to the place!"

He frowned in confusion. "I haven't done anything to it lately."

She shook her head and chuckled. "I know, Clark. I was joking."

"Oh. In that case, ha-ha-ha, giggle, guffaw, and chortle. Not to mention chuckle and tee-hee. That was most amusing."

She lifted a sardonic eyebrow for a moment, then picked up her clothing bag and headed for the bathroom. "I got first crack at the mirror! Maybe I can brush this mop into something resembling neat."

"Okay. I'll fix a snack for us."

"Something light, I hope. I can't eat anything heavy for at least an hour."

"What? Why not?"

"Because I've been swimming. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to eat anything for at least an hour after you go swimming?"

He looked at her totally innocent expression. "Oh, you're just full of them today, aren't you?"

"I'm full of something. Now get to your snack fixing and I'll get to my hair brushing."

"Yes, ma'am."

She laughed as she skipped into the bathroom. Today had been a very good day so far -- and she hoped it got even better.

***

He couldn't help it. Her pixie laugh made him smile. And she was fun to be around. Rebecca was a party waiting for a place to happen, and she wasn't particular about the location or the guest list.

He was so very glad that she'd recovered so well from being shot, even though she'd carry the marks of her injuries for the rest of her life. And he knew that her one-piece swimsuit not only fit her most flatteringly, it covered the scar on her abdomen that she might not ever show to anyone who didn't already know about it.

She was young and alive and beautiful. She was smart and talented and so very full of life. And he was sure that if he asked her to marry him, she'd tackle him and say "yes" so many times she'd deplete the oxygen in the room.

Did he love her?

He thought about that question as he prepared a veggie tray for them to nosh on while they watched a video. He compared her to Lana, and he decided that there wasn't any real comparison. They were two different people, and it wasn't fair to either Lana or Rebecca to decide that one woman was better than the other in any way. He'd loved Lana. She had died. He had grieved for her for more than a year. Was he ready to move on?

Yes, he decided. He was ready.

Was Rebecca the one? Was he ready to move on with her? Was she the one he could marry and plan to spend the rest of his life with?

His smile faded. That one he wasn't so sure about.

Rebecca was beautiful and fun and vibrant. She was brilliant and driven to succeed. She was going to make a difference in the world someday.

She'd already made a difference in Clark. He'd cut down on his patrols at her urging, despite Ultra Woman's hints about needing a little help now and then. She'd never asked him not to respond to any emergency situation, but she had discouraged him from looking for additional ways to help, saying that he needed more time for himself. The fact that "more time for himself" usually translated into "more time with Rebecca" hadn't struck him until just now.

And he wasn't sure how he felt about that little realization either.

He thought about Lois. He thought about how he felt when he was with her, how his spirits would lift whenever they were together or when they communicated mentally. He thought about all the things they'd shared over those months when he was so emotionally fragile, how she'd helped him and supported him and yelled at him and treated him like a real person instead of a super-powered mannequin. He thought about how she'd gained a copy of his powers and how she'd trusted him to teach her how to use them. And he thought about how well she'd worked with him despite their differences.

He mused about the way she'd proclaimed her independence from him as a super-heroine with that costume that looked like a star map tattooed on an exotic dancer. He thought about how they'd argued about so many things, both trivial and vital. He pondered what his life might be like if they were together.

It startled him when he realized that he loved Lois Lane. He loved her fire, her zeal for the truth, her crazy mixed-up way of working through a story and coming to the right conclusion. He loved her smile, her laugh, her soft eyes and her easy way of working with him on super-jobs. He even loved the way she'd been hesitant to embrace her powers at first, that she had feared -- unrealistically, of course -- that she wouldn't be able to do what he did, or at least not nearly as well.

And then he thought about how much Lex loved her.

He couldn't put himself between them. Even though Lex Luthor wasn't his favorite person in Metropolis, he'd forced himself to get to know the man better, and he'd finally admitted that Lex wasn't a horribly evil troll just because he cared about Lois so much. If they got married, Lois would never want for anything, including a husband who cared for her so deeply that it was a little intimidating to those who'd never loved anyone like that.

And Clark realized that if he really cared for Lois, he'd want her to be with the man she loved. Even if it was -- ew – Lex Luthor.

And even if the man she loved wasn't him.

He shook himself and finished loading the tray, then poured two tall glasses of soda with a modicum of ice. Rebecca would be coming out soon, and he wanted her to feel at home.

Until he pulled the rug out from under her, of course. He hoped she'd land softly.

***

Rebecca opened her bag and pulled out a hairbrush, then looked in the mirror and sighed. She'd have to wash it before she styled it, and there wasn't time for that. She was going to make her big move on Clark today. The poor boy wouldn't know what hit him.

In the spirit of Bonnie Raitt, she planned to give their friends something to talk about. Maybe Clark would dance with her again, like he had way back when they'd first met at a Dangerous Boys work session. Over the months they'd known each other, she'd been intrigued by him, then attracted to him, then impressed by him, then in love with him.

And now she knew he was also Superman. It was almost overwhelming at times, but he was human enough to be vulnerable to her. Lana had proved that.

She pulled out the shirt she'd planned to wear, then her eyes fell on the stack of towels on the rack on the far wall and an even better idea invaded her mind. The one on the bottom -- yes! It was large enough to wrap around her and small enough to make her intentions plain. She pulled it out and held it up, bit her bottom lip in thought, then decided to go for broke. Clark would have to notice her once she walked out of the bathroom wearing that towel and nothing more. They might not get to that snack he was making, either, but in life some sacrifices must be made.

The thought made her giggle.

Then she noticed a folded piece of paper on the floor. It had to have fallen out of the towel or off the rack when she pulled the towel out, but she couldn't imagine why it was there.

She picked it up and began reading.

***

Hello, Darling!

I love you. I know I've told you that a thousand times, but I really, really love you. If there were anything else I could say to tell you that I love you, I'd say it. I'd write it down on the back of every envelope we'll ever buy and make you go buy some more so I could write it again!

Oh, I know I'm being silly. I know I'm going on and on again. Seems like I do that every time I try to write to you. But I can't help it. And even though you're a far better writer than I am, and a better speaker, too, I just had to put these thoughts down on paper. I love you so much!

We've had so little time together lately, what with you starting at the *Planet* and me at the museum. We flash past each other in the morning and meet up at dinner time. And sometimes when I wake up late at night or early in the morning and I reach over for you, you're not there. Oh, I know why you're not there. I know Superman has to be out in the world saving lives and stopping crime and rescuing kittens and so forth, but I still miss you. I hate having to share you with the whole city. Is it really so bad to be jealous of an entire metropolitan area? If so, then I'm really, really bad, worse than some of the criminals you catch.

But I love it when you come back home. Sometimes when you come back to bed and I'm holding your pillow and you try to ever so gently take it away from me and I wake up -- I'm not asleep, I'm just waiting for you. And then I pretend that you woke me up and I slide over close to you and snuggle up against your incredible manliness and pretend that I forgot to put on my underwear and it's way better than sleeping!

But I wanted to tell you something else, something I've never really said to you. At least, I've never been able to say it very well. You know how much I want to be a successful archaeologist. You know how badly I want to make my dad proud of me. Not that he's ever put any pressure on me to do anything particular except to excel in whatever profession I choose, but I still love him and I want him to be proud.

But I love you more. If I had to make the choice, I'd put down all the digging tools and the subscriptions and the journals and leave the museum and follow you wherever you wanted to go. Do you want to wander the world and write about it? I'll go with you and take care of your mail. Do you want to move to California and become a movie actor? I'll go with you and help you with your makeup and even be your agent if you want. Do you want to play professional football? Pick a team and it'll be my favorite. I'll cheer for you to win every game, score all the points and be the best player in the league. I'll even learn what a punt is and why you'd do it. And I'll mail out all the press releases myself. I'll be the best agent and cheerleader you could ever have, too.

You gave up so much when we moved to Metropolis, and I know you did it for me. Sure, you got a great job at the *Daily Planet*, and you're investigating the bad guys and reporting the news, which is what you've wanted to do with your life for so long, but you could have done that just about anywhere. You came with me because of my situation, because of my career, and I don't believe I've ever told you just how much that means to me. You sacrificed for me and I love you so much for that.

I don't think I'm saying exactly what I feel about you. Elizabeth Barrett Browning put it like this in her sonnet, and I don't think I could do better in a million years.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of every day's

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with a passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints -- I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

I can't put it any better than that, Clark. You're the man I want to grow old with. You're the man I want to father my children. You're the man who holds my heart in his hands. I love you.

I know that you'll probably outlive me, and that means that you'll probably have to watch me die at some time in the future. I'm sorry. I don't ever want to leave you, but I know I probably will, and I'm pretty sure that you won't take it well. That thought is driving this letter. I want you to find it someday when I'm gone and know that I expect you to find a nice woman and marry her. Assuming, of course, she's not as beautiful as I am. And she'd better not be a better lover than me either!

I'm kidding. I'm sure any woman who could attract your attention enough for you to think about marrying her will be a wonderful woman. I'm sure she'll love you and support you in all your super-duties at least as well as I ever could. Or will. Or have. Maybe even better than me. No, almost certainly she'll be better than I ever could be.

This is the fourth draft of this letter and I'm still not satisfied with it. I'm writing this one in the bathroom while I'm waiting for you to come back from a fire in the bad part of Metropolis, I think. The rescues kind of run together for me after a while, and I'm sorry that I can't always remember where you've been or where you're going in the flashy suit. And I'm sorry that sometimes I get jealous over Superman and the amount of time he takes you away from me. It's just so hard for me to share you with the entire world! Sometimes I feel like a military wife, one whose husband is constantly getting no-warning one-day duty assignments out of town. I'm selfish and I want you all for myself, for me alone, all the time. But I think I'm getting better at understanding that it can't be that way. I just hope it's enough.

I'm sorry that I'm not that good at comforting you when you've had a tough rescue. I'm sorry that I still can't find the words to say to make you feel better, to help you know that all the good that you do is worth doing, even if you don't think it's enough. I wish I could help you understand that you doing good is more than anyone else could do, and even if you can't save the whole world, you can save a pretty big piece of it.

But most of all, I want you to know that I love you. I want you to know that I'll stand by you and support you as long as I have air in my lungs and legs that will hold me up. I will hold you close and kiss you and brush the soot from your hair and wash your suits and I may even let your mother teach me how to sew them.

But most of all, my darling, I love you.

I will always love you.

Your loving wife,

Lana

***

Well.

No towel. No fancy movie vixen tricks. No seduction or proposal today.

Probably not ever.

No. Definitely not ever.

Rebecca loved Clark. She did! Really. But try as she might, she couldn't imagine ever writing anything like this to him. Lana was -- just unbelievable. She wondered if she would have liked Lana, then decided no, she would have hated her for being so perfect.

And she would have been so very jealous of her.

For that matter, she was still jealous. If that letter was any indication, and if half the stories she'd cajoled from Clark were true, Lana had been a terrific wife to him. And even though Rebecca loved Clark and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, she knew she didn't have that kind of unselfish love for him -- maybe not for anyone. She knew that she'd keep trying to reduce his Superman time and increase his Rebecca time, and she knew that she'd keep on trying as long as they were together.

She knew that Superman was a vital part of Clark's life, but she didn't want to think of herself as Mrs. Superman. Apparently Lana hadn't minded it all that much, but the thought of trying to comfort Clark after a bad time at a rescue all but terrified her. She hadn't considered their relationship in those terms before, but Lana's letter had torn down that veil and forced her to see the truth -- that she loved the idea of being Clark's wife but hated the idea of being Superman's wife.

And that wasn't fair. Not to Clark, not to the people he could save if he wasn't with her, and not to Lana's memory. For that matter, it wasn't fair to her. If she were the only person to have Superman in her life, she would be selfish and cruel to everyone else.

And she couldn't do that, not to herself or to Clark. She just couldn't.

If Clark married again, he'd need to marry someone who would be a wife, a friend, a lover, a supporter, someone for whom he could be a husband, friend, supporter, and lover. Someone not like herself, who loved Clark but also wanted her own life and didn't mind sharing him with the world. Someone like--

Someone like Lois.

The thought stunned her for a long moment, then it resolved itself into a best-case scenario. Clark should marry Lois, and not because she was Ultra Woman. Lois was strong enough to stand up to him while she supported him in all of his endeavors, and she was secure enough to accept his help and support for hers. And it would eliminate any problems about Superman making his wife jealous of Ultra Woman. Or vice versa.

It was almost too bad that Lois was involved with Mr. Luthor. She'd be a great wife for Clark. Not only would she love him unreservedly and support him in everything he did, she'd never let him get away with being anything but the best reporter or hero or man he could be. Lois Lane would have been perfect for him.

And Rebecca Connors wasn't Lois Lane. She couldn't be. It wasn't in her to be anyone else.

Rebecca sighed. Now that that was settled, all she had to do was get out of his life and make room for whoever should be there. The penguin study offer couldn't have come at a better time. She'd go there, he'd stay here, and in the long run they'd both be better off.

She only hoped that he appreciated all that she was giving up for him.

She dug out her phone and quietly called for a LexCorp car to take her home. It was one of the perks she'd miss when she went to Antarctica, but she wouldn't miss it all that much.

Not as much as she'd miss Clark in her life.

She refolded the letter and put it back in the bottom towel. Maybe someday Clark would find it and read it and smile as he remembered Lana.

As long as it wasn't today. Rebecca hated losing, and she knew she'd already lost to Lana. Losing to a dead woman can really put a crimp in your day.

***

Clark was getting nervous.

Rebecca had been in the bathroom for almost twenty minutes. He was tempted to check on her to see if she was okay, but he figured she was trying to get ready for some kind of big entrance.

And that thought made him even more nervous. A big entrance would probably signify a big moment of some kind. Maybe she was putting on a special outfit of some kind, something which would give him a special message. An unmistakable, clear, unambiguous message. Like with flashing neon lights around her head and a big banner wrapped around her body with a very specific question on it.

He stopped and shook himself. As attractive as Rebecca might be wearing only a cloth banner, he didn't want to go there. He didn't want to envision her that way.

And he didn't want to marry her. He liked her -- a lot -- and he got along with her very well. They could disagree without arguing most of the time, and when they did argue it was usually about issues and not personalities. As he mentally reviewed the time since he'd met her, he realized that she'd grown and matured in her outlook on men in general and on her life prospects in particular. She'd gone from being afraid of imperfect relationships to understanding that relationships were always works in progress. She'd learned to deal with her past issues and had come to grips with her limitations. He admired that about her, and they'd come to be good friends.

But he wasn't comfortable with the idea of spending the rest of his life with her. She was, and would probably always be, determined to get her way and be more than just a little bull-headed about getting it. She'd probably always do what she had to do to further her career and let her relationships bob and bounce in her wake. As her husband, he'd always have to take second place to a pod of orca in the central Atlantic or a research project in Malaysia or the penguin study in Antarctica she'd been offered. As a mother -- that didn't bear thinking about, especially not now.

He knew about the offer she'd received to lead the field research team for the penguin study. She'd left the offer letter on her dining room table the week before, and Clark had read half of it before he'd realized that this wasn't the first communication she'd had with the foundation funding the research. He'd recognized the name from the Superman Foundation grant request list. They'd applied for supplemental funds and had been turned down because their mission didn't fit the Superman Foundation's parameters for funding, but the directors had managed to match them up with another source of funds, which, ironically, was Lana's organization, Digger Enterprises. The people who wanted Rebecca were reputable, they were established and they were serious about who they wanted to work with.

That letter wasn't an initial offer. It was part of the negotiations for her to come on board and work with them. And Clark wasn't sure he was willing to play second fiddle to a colony of emperor penguins.

He frowned at himself. No. He was sure. He wasn't willing.

He'd been okay with Lana traveling for her career, though. The difference was that he knew that he'd been Lana's top priority. Even if Lana had been asked to unearth Atlantis and get all the credit and the money and fame that would have come to her, she would have involved Clark in the decision to take that job. And even though Lana hadn't begun their marriage involving Clark in such decisions, he had no doubt that she'd grown into that mindset before she'd died.

He was equally sure that Rebecca wouldn't fully involve him. She'd leave detailed notes or give him a full explanation of where she was going, why she was going, how long she'd be gone, and how to contact her, but she'd make the decision on her own without any input from him -- without any thought of how his life might be turned upside down. He had no indication from her that her attitude would ever change.

And he couldn't make a life with a woman who'd do that to them, who was willing to scramble their lives in such a cavalier fashion. He'd have to tell her that they couldn't be together, let her down easy--

Yeah. Like that was going to happen.

***

It was time.

She had to exit the bathroom now. Her hair was as brushed as it could be. Her wet swimsuit was wrapped in her towel -- not the one she'd briefly planned to wear -- and she was dry and fully dressed. She had to face him and tell him that although she loved him, she didn't love him enough to commit to marrying him. And she had to make him understand that she'd never, never, ever even hint that she knew who Superman was in his civilian life. Or that she even knew that Superman *had* a civilian life.

She opened the door and hesitated. "Rebecca?" she heard him call. "Are you okay?"

No. She wasn't okay.

But she would be. And so would he.

One of Bonnie Raitt's songs popped into her head, just not the one she'd hoped to hear. Not one of the fun and peppy ones, either.

Bonnie sang in her head as she looked at the man she'd almost decided to marry.

*Turn down the lights, turn down the bed*

*

Turn down these voices inside my head*

*

Morning will come and I'll do what's right*

*

Just give me till then to give up this fight*

*

And I will give up this fight*

Except for the part about the bed, it fit.

"Hi, Clark."

He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "I was starting to get worried about you."

She glanced at the floor in front of her. "And you never considered looking through the door to check on me in case I wasn't suitably attired."

He frowned. "Something like that, yeah." He stepped toward her but not close enough to touch. "Is something wrong?"

She lifted her face and caught his eyes with hers. "Would you marry me if I asked you to?"

His mouth dropped open for a moment and he goggled at her, then got himself under control. "Wow. Where did that come from?"

Now she really wasn't okay. If he'd wanted to marry her he would've said so.

But at least, now, she knew the truth.

And it hurt.

*I can't make you love me if you don't*

*

You can't make your heart feel something it won't*

*

Here in the darkness in these final hours*

*

I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power*

*

But you won't, no, you won't*

*

Cause I can't make you love me*

*

If you don't*

She licked her lips and glanced to one side. "I've been wondering if you were going to ask me or if you were waiting for me to ask you. But now I know."

He licked his lips. "Rebecca, I--"

She lifted her hand. "Please don't, Clark. I wouldn't marry you now even if you begged me on bended knee."

His brows drew down. "That's a little harsh, don't you think?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't, actually. Because you don't love me enough to marry me. And please, don't protest. I'm not sure I love you enough either." She shook her head again and tried to smile. "I know I don't love you like Lana did."

"That's not a fair comparison, Becca. No one expects you to be another Lana, least of all me."

"I know that. And that's not what I meant." She turned and took one step toward the front door, then stopped and turned back. "You talk about your future, you listen to me talk about my future, but you don't talk about our future together. I don't think we have one. What do you think?"

He hesitated. "Well -- I -- I guess I -- maybe we--"

She'd heard enough. "That's what I thought. Look, you stay here and -- and decide how to spend your life. I know you'll make the right decision. And don't worry about me getting home. I've already called a LexCorp company car to take me back to my place."

"What? Wait, no, please. At least let me take you home."

She shook her head again. The tears wouldn't hold back much longer and she couldn't have him around to comfort her when they burst out. "Not necessary. I'm really disappointed, of course, but I guess I brought it on myself. I chased you even when you let me know you weren't all that eager to be with me. This is more my fault than yours, Clark. Please don't feel guilty."

He looked smaller somehow, almost deflated, like all the happy had somehow leaked out of him. "I -- I don't know what else to say except I'm sorry, and that's so lame."

She tried to smile. "But I know you really mean it, so it's really not so lame. Besides, I'm sorry too." She turned and headed for the door. The dams behind her eyelids were near collapse and she had to get out of there. "Please don't call me for a few days, okay? I need some time to myself."

He didn't answer. She opened the door and stepped through, then pulled it almost closed. Knowing that he'd hear her, she whispered, "Goodbye, Clark. Have a great life."

The door latched and she pointed her footsteps toward the elevator, wondering if she were the weakest, the most fragile, and absolutely the dumbest woman who'd ever lived, or if she were one of the strongest and wisest. Maybe she'd figure that out in a few years, assuming she could get past the pain of today.

She wasn't okay. But she would be.

There were penguins waiting for her. And she was sure she wouldn't disappoint them.

And they wouldn't disappoint her.

***

Clark sat on the living room floor. This is a truly messed-up day, he thought. Rebecca breaks up with him and he gets slammed in the face with a reminder of Lana at the same time. What was he supposed to do now?

He stared at the floor, not really seeing it, for long minutes, while he tried to think of nothing. He tried to focus on the wallpaper pattern, without success. Then he tried to extend his hearing to pick up a sports event of some kind, but no one seemed to be broadcasting a game in the city.

Nothing really worked. He needed to talk to someone. But who?

Duh, Clark. When in trouble, talk to your parents.

He jumped up, grabbed his cordless phone, hit the speed dial for the Kent farm, and floated to the floor.

His mother answered on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mom, it's me. Clark."

"Well, howdy, stranger! Long time no hear from you."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry about that. My life has been a little crazy lately." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "In fact, that's kind of why I called."

"Okay. Is this a situation we can deal with over the phone or do you need to come out here?"

He chewed his lip for a moment, then said, "I think I need to come see you and Dad." He glanced at the clock. "Can you handle another place setting at dinner?"

"Sure! I'll even whip up some apple pie. No store-bought pie in my house, just fresh and homemade!" He heard her hesitate, then ask, "Um, is Rebecca coming too? You know she's welcome any time."

It was his turn to hesitate. "No. She's not coming. And that's actually part of what I need to talk over with you and Dad."

"I see. Or, rather, I suppose I will see. You just take your time. Dinner will be on the table about six thirty our time. And since it's Saturday evening, we can stay up with you for a while. We'll have our ears on, honey."

"Thanks, Mom. I guess I'll see you in a few hours, then."

Chapter Fourteen

Lex hummed softly to himself as he laid out the silverware and arranged the flowers just so. The tune was one of his favorite arias from Mozart's *The Magic Flute*. He knew Lois wasn't a huge opera fan, but she liked -- or at least tolerated – his ongoing love of the art form, and since she would be joining him soon, he wanted to be in the best mood possible. Because tonight was the night which would change his life forever.

Tonight, he would ask Lois Lane to be his wife.

He was confident that she would accept his proposal. With his contacts and his position on the board of LNN, he could give her a much bigger and more influential platform for crusading journalism than even the *Daily Planet* could provide. He could give Ultra Woman all the privacy and logistical support she could ever need or want. His media companies could let her know where she was most needed at any time of the day or night. Her rapidly growing business acumen could help him run his businesses both more efficiently and more compassionately.

And best of all, he loved her more than he had loved anything or anyone else in his life.

That was his trump card. He loved her. All the other stuff was just icing on the cake, more ammunition to convince her of the wisdom of his proposal. There was no need for a pre-nuptial agreement. Lois' basic honesty and integrity were beyond reproach or any taint of suspicion.

And he wouldn't mention the change to his will leaving her control of his fortune if he predeceased her until after she'd accepted his proposal. He knew it would make no difference to her, but he wanted her to know that he trusted her more than he'd ever trusted another human being, even Asabi.

Although the codicil in the will giving Asabi twenty percent of Lex' stock in his companies spoke volumes about him as well. At least, he hoped both Lois and Asabi would understand the gesture as he intended.

The thought that she might not accept his proposal, despite all the additional inducements he might offer her, fluttered through his mind. He banished it with a brutal thrust of will. Nothing would interfere with this evening. No one would disturb them. It was their most private time. A personal time, one which no one else could intrude.

He even knew exactly what he'd say to her. The best part was that every word was utterly and completely true, the best kind of romantic speech. He'd rehearsed it often enough to have it memorized forwards and backwards, but once more -- out loud -- certainly wouldn't hurt.

First, he'd stand beside her chair at the table and hold her hands gently. He'd say, "Lois, I'm no saint. I've done questionable things in the pursuit of my success, but unfortunately that's the nature of big business."

Then he'd step back, just a little, and continue. "And sometimes -- through jealousy or frustration -- I've overreacted. I've been ruthless with my enemies."

Then he'd lean closer and seal the deal. "But, as God is my witness, I swear to you, from this moment on, I'll change. I no longer want to hurt anyone."

Then he'd kneel and give her the big finish. "I'm willing to devote my life to you, to commit myself to you totally and eternally."

A pause for breath. His warmest smile. "Will you marry me?"

Someone clapped slowly and said, "A very nice speech, Lex."

His smile faded. That wasn't Lois' voice. Who--

"Did you miss me, darling? Or are you rehearsing for some other beautiful young thing?"

Now he placed her. He knew the voice. And he knew that he was in serious trouble.

He stood slowly, then turned to face the intruder. "Hello, Arianna."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Surprised to see me again so soon? And here, of all places."

"Yes, actually. How did you--"

"Get in past your upgraded security measures? It was one of Nigel's secret passageways. To be honest, it was the only one that wasn't blocked."

"I'll have to send a stern memo to building maintenance."

She chuckled and oozed towards him holding a pistol in her right hand, the muzzle pointed at his abdomen. "You prepared dinner for me? How very thoughtful of you!" She clucked her tongue once. "But I'm a poor guest. I should have brought a bottle of wine. Let's see, you're serving seafood. That calls for a gentle Merlot, don't you think? Chateau-Thierry '61, perhaps? Or perhaps not. It's still early in the day."

He cocked his head to one side, hoping that she'd be careless and step just a bit closer. "I am just as happy to see you here without wine as with, my dear Arianna."

She stopped just out of his reach. "You're still as charming as you ever were, Lex. And just as diplomatic. I know you'd rather cuddle an enraged rattlesnake than see me again, at least in a social gathering." She indicated the table with her free hand. "Very nice setting. I'd imagine that your lovely young guest will be here shortly."

Still too far away. He leaned in her direction. "How do you know this isn't a business engagement?"

"No closer!" She stepped back and lifted the pistol. "This is a personal dinner, Lex. I know the signs. Besides, I saw the limo leave earlier. Asabi should have dropped Miss Lane off at the front door already. I'd imagine she's all a-tingle with the thought of having dinner with the third richest man in the world."

He smiled lopsidedly. "The new rankings came out in *Forbes* already? Drat. I was hoping to surprise you."

Her eyes flashed. "You know I could never let anyone else have you, don't you?"

Uh-oh. She was planning something bad. Maybe he could dissuade her. "Arianna -- please don't do what I think you're planning to do."

She smiled brightly and eased backwards. "What are you afraid of, darling? Are you frightened for your own life or for the life of your lovely young lady friend?" She tilted her head to the side. "I'd imagine that she's quite willing to please you in any way possible. How fortunate for you."

"Arianna--" and he stopped. He couldn't tell her about Lois' secret. And he couldn't let her discover it on her own. The first bullet that hit Lois would reveal Ultra Woman's true identity to the world, and Lois would never again have a moment's peace. They would have to isolate Arianna for the rest of her life or kill her, and he couldn't risk letting Lois make that decision on her own. He had to deal with this situation by himself, and he had to do it before Lois walked out of the elevator.

"Cat got your tongue, Lex? Oops. My apologies. I shouldn't repeat my taunts. Perhaps your mouth is too dry? Perhaps a sip of that lovely champagne you have chilling beside the table would moisten your lips."

He examined her pistol more closely. It appeared to be a nine-millimeter Beretta, the same model the uniformed Metropolis Police used, the same model he'd used to teach her to shoot, and he was certain that Arianna could hit him multiple times at this range no matter how quickly he moved. He had to get closer to her.

"Arianna, if you need money--"

"Money?" She laughed without taking her eyes from him. "When I leave, I'm heading to Antigua and nineteen million pounds Sterling. That's about thirty-seven million dollars or so, depending on today's exchange rate. But you already knew that, didn't you, my darling Lex?"

He didn't answer and she didn't give him an opening to move. "I also have a new identity waiting for me. By the time they discover your bodies, Arianna Carlin will have vanished."

Bodies? No! She was planning to kill Lois as well as himself! He scrambled for something, anything, that might slow her down, even if just a little bit. "What about your practice? It would be a"--he barely stopped himself from saying 'a crime'--"a mistake to abandon your profession. You always loved helping people. You were very good at it, too."

"Oh, please! Psychiatry was simply a means to an end. I used it to get to you and then to your mob contacts in the labor unions, and from them to the Mafia dons in the city. I did the rest of it myself, including the elimination of my competition. Did you know that I was the one who wiped out the leaders of the three major gangs two years ago?"

His eyebrows rose. "You? The District Attorney's office claimed it was an internecine struggle between gangsters."

"That's how I set it up. No one knew I was involved except Nigel and Beth-Ann, and they're both dead." She sighed. "How unfortunate for them. And for you, actually, since you are ultimately responsible for their deaths."

"Me? How am I responsible?"

She winked without moving her head. "Oh, darling, you pointed me at those 'businessmen' like a heat-seeking missile and stepped back. That day as we left the marriage counselor's office five years ago, when you pointed out Don Meucci to me, all I had to do was to keep my ear to the ground and learn the names of his chief rivals, the Taylor family and the Goldmans. I lured them to that warehouse meeting. I set it up so that each of them thought the other two were there wipe out the competition." She chuckled and sighed. "Ah, the good old days. Nigel planted the explosives which he triggered once the first round of shooting was over, and -- well, dropping that roof on them didn't do them any good." Her eyes grew bright and her smile covered her face. "But it helped me quite a lot, don't you think?"

As Lex hunted for something else to say, the express elevator dinged once. "Ah. Miss Lane is finally on her way up here." She waved the pistol at him. "Back up against the bookcase."

He complied, moving as slowly as he dared. "Since we're already in my private library, might I recommend a suitable volume for you? May I suggest my copy of Machiavelli's *Discourses on Titus Livius*, a first edition in Italian? Or perhaps you'd prefer a good murder mystery? I have Robert Parker's latest Spenser novel, signed by the author himself."

"Stalling, Lex? That's not exactly your style either." The elevator dinged again, a higher pitch this time. "Good. She's just now passing the sixtieth floor. She'll be here in seconds."

Lex glanced towards the elevator, trying to calculate his chances for a quick grab of the pistol when the doors opened. Suddenly Arianna lunged against him and jabbed the pistol hard against his belly. Her eyes stared up into his, and her face was alight with secret evil. "How about one last kiss, my darling? For all the good times?"

It wasn't a good chance, but it was a chance and he had to take it. "If you'd like, Arianna."

She licked her lips and he bent his head to touch his mouth to hers. He slowly slipped his hands down to her shoulders. Her left hand curled up behind his waist as she relaxed into the kiss. He was almost ready to make a grab for her pistol. Just one more second--

***

She still didn't know if her clothing sent the right signals. Asabi had been more than polite when he'd picked her up at her apartment and had spoken easily with her, discussing the weather and sports and Asabi's recent escrima exhibition, but she wasn't dressing for him. She'd modeled three dresses, five different blouse-skirt combinations, and four pantsuits before deciding on dark slacks with a spiffy pastel blouse and low heels. Yet she still wasn't sure it was the appropriate outfit for the ordeal she knew she would undergo tonight.

Lois shook her head and sighed as the elevator signaled the passing of the sixtieth floor. She was sure that Lex planned to propose to her tonight, especially after their working dinner the night before. He'd been giving her signals for nearly three weeks, and the dinner he was cooking for her was probably his best dish. She was positive that he intended to do or say whatever he could to convince her to marry him.

And she still didn't know how she would answer. He'd stood by her in good times and bad. He surely wished that she'd spent more time with him, but he'd never complained. And not once had he so much as hinted that Ultra Woman was taking up too much of her time or coming between them in any way. In that aspect of their relationship, he beat Rebecca, who seemed determined to reduce Superman's visibility, by quite a wide margin.

Even so, the prospect of marriage to Lex -- becoming Lois Lane-Luthor -- neither filled her with giggly anticipation nor gripped her heart with cold dread. While Lex was, and always had been, a pleasant companion, an excellent dancer, and an interesting conversationalist, he didn't knock her shoes off when he kissed her. The thought of spending time with him didn't fill her heart with fluttery joy the way the thought of spending time with Clark did.

She sighed and admitted the truth to herself. She loved Clark. She liked Lex, tolerated his attentions, enjoyed the effort he put into their relationship, but she didn't love him.

The thought of all those consecutive L's in her monogram made her grimace, too.

For some reason, the realization that staring at 'LLL' on her bath towels for the next forty years would drive her to permanent and utter distraction tipped the scales to 'no' on the question of marrying Lex. There was no way she'd wed him just on the basis of convenience, companionship, or tolerant friendship. It wouldn't be fair to either of them.

But she'd have to let him down lightly. She'd apologize for leading him on, of course. She'd promise to remain his friend -- ew, that sounded awful, even in her head, and even allowing that she really did want them to remain friends. She'd assure him that any press coverage she gave him would be fair, unless he wanted her not to cover him at all. And she'd be okay with that, too. It was the least she'd owe him. And if the tabloid press got wind of the story of the breakup, she'd volunteer to be the bad guy and take the blame for the end of the relationship.

By now she was pacing the elevator, two steps across and three steps up, walk the diagonal back to her starting point, repeat the process while muttering to herself.

It wasn't fair to him, she told herself, but it was better than being married to a woman who didn't love him, who would end up being a problem to him, a woman who might even be angry with--

She suddenly stopped pacing. What was that sound?

It sounded like -- a gunshot? How could that be? No one else was supposed to be here tonight, and surely Lex wasn't taking target practice up there. It had to be something else, something mechanical. She replayed the sound in her mind and it still sounded like a gunshot, but she wasn't sure if that's what it really was.

The elevator reached its destination and the doors slid open. She picked up the acrid scent of cordite immediately. Lois glanced around the outer office but saw nothing amiss. She walked across the room and pushed through the door to the library.

She smelled the blood before she saw the body. "Lex!"

She scurried to his side and gently rolled him over onto his back. The steady stream of dark blood flowed from the lower left quadrant of his abdomen, just above the belt line.

He groaned weakly as she looked inside his belly and saw the misshapen bullet resting against his rib. Worse, the bullet had tracked directly through his liver and shredded the tissue badly. He was bleeding internally and externally.

She shuddered. A human being cannot survive without a liver, nor without sufficient blood volume. If she flew him to the hospital right now--

"So glad you could join us, Miss Lane."

Lois' head snapped up to take in the woman in the connecting doorway leading to the lounge. She wore a dark, stylish pantsuit, low-heeled, sensible but obviously expensive shoes, and lazily brandished a deep blue semi-automatic pistol in one hand.

The woman looks like a cross-dressing English movie spy, thought Lois. Bond, Jane Bond. Or an ad for some obscure Canadian whiskey.

She shook herself out of her reverie. "I have to take him to the hospital right now."

"How very direct you are. But I'm afraid it won't help him."

"He can be there in--"

"It doesn't matter how quickly he gets medical attention, my dear," the woman broke in. "The bullet track proceeds upwards through the small and large intestines, then bisects the liver. I'm afraid there is no chance whatsoever for his survival." She sighed deeply, then pointed the pistol in Lois' general direction. "You do, however, have time for a short goodbye. A very short one."

"But--"

"Please, Miss Lane, believe me when I say this. I am still, after all, a doctor. If poor Lex had taken that bullet and fallen directly onto an operating table with an entire surgical team standing by for him, ready to operate on that particular wound and on Lex specifically, he would never awaken from the anesthesia."

"A doctor?" Lois' eyes widened with recognition. "I know you! You're Arianna Carlin!"

Arianna smiled. "Very good, Miss Lane. You win -- oh, dear, I'm afraid you don't win anything except--" she waved the pistol at Lex.

Lex groaned again and grasped Lois' arm. "I'm afraid -- Arianna is telling the truth. No -- no doctor can save me now."

Lois looked down at him. "I can get you help. You know I can."

He flinched, then smiled thinly. "Not even Superman could -- could help me now." He tried a chuckle but it faded into another groan. "I -- once killed a man in a very similar fashion. Unintentionally, I assure you. I was trying to arrest him, not kill him. And I didn't -- ohh! -- I didn't kiss him first."

A tear formed and crept down Lois' cheek. "Lex -- please let me--"

"No. I don't want my last moments to be -- to be spent being mauled by well-meaning but -- uh -- futile attempts to save me. No -- no heroic measures. I have a Do Not Resuscitate order on file with -- aaah! -- with my personal physician."

Her eyes dampened. "No! Let me try to help you. Please!"

He paused and shuddered, then relaxed again. "I was going to propose to you tonight. I had it all planned. We'd have dinner, drinks on the -- ahh -- on the balcony -- ohh!"

"Lex, please don't try to talk! You can--"

He fumbled around until he caught her hand in his. "Lois, my -- my darling. I only want to know -- before I die -- if you would have accepted -- my proposal."

Lois forced a smile and wiped the tears from her face. "I've been thinking about tonight, too. I kind of expected to hear a proposal from you."

He closed his eyes and smiled back. "Then you've also -- you've thought about your response."

"Yes. Yes, I have."

He squeezed her hand weakly. "Please don't -- don't keep me in suspense."

He's going to die, she thought. And I can't let him die feeling disappointed in me. "I would have said -- yes, Lex, I'll marry you."

He smiled and sighed. "Thank you. I -- I apologize for the setting, but I -- ahh! -- I am thrilled with your response." He reached up and cupped her cheek with one bloodied hand. "I love you, Lois."

She held his hand to her face. "Now let me take you to the hospital. Please."

He took a deeper breath and let it out slowly. "Too -- late. I would have -- tried to -- make you -- happy--"

His hand slipped from her cheek and flopped to the floor. "Lex?" she called. "Lex!"

"Oh, I'm afraid Lex has slipped the surly bonds of earth and shuffled off this mortal coil, my dear," Arianna purred. "I hope you don't mind that I'm conflating those references. But don't worry. I intend that you join him momentarily."

With that, Arianna lifted her pistol and touched it to the back of Lois' head. Then she pulled the trigger.

***

Killing people was so satisfying, Arianna mused, that it was a shame she got to do it so seldom.

As the bullet struck her, Lois' head leaned forward, then turned towards Arianna. The murderess thought for a moment that gunshot victims sometimes moved oddly at the moment of death.

Then Lois lifted her tear-tracked face to Arianna and stared at her with malevolent intent. Arianna stepped back as Lois stood up and turned to face her.

She fired again, this time at the center of Lois' chest. Her intended victim's hand blurred but her clothing didn't puff out with the impact of the bullet.

She couldn't have missed! Not at this range! Arianna stepped back again and fired once more. Lois' hand blurred again. There was no other response except to step closer.

"Die! Why don't you die?" Arianna fired three more times. Lois didn't bother catching these shots. She only let them smash into her torso and clatter harmlessly away.

Suddenly Arianna felt a wall behind her. She lifted her pistol once again, intending to put a bullet into Lois' eye, but her hand was unaccountably empty. She saw her weapon in Lois' hand.

Lois turned her head and blew a puff of air toward the balcony doors. They banged open just as Lois tossed the pistol through them and off the edge of the balcony to the street one hundred eighteen stories below.

Panic. Arianna hadn't felt panic for years, but she felt it now. How could Lois be invulnerable? How could she move so quickly? No one could do those things except -- except--

"Ultra Woman! You -- you're Ultra Woman!"

Instead of answering, Lois reached out and grasped Arianna's jacket in one hand and pulled her closer. "You killed Lex, Arianna. Now I'm going to kill you."

Hysteria joined panic in Arianna's mind. Her voice wouldn't work properly and her bladder control deserted her. "No! P-please no! D-don't -- don't kill me! Please!"

Lois pulled Arianna's face next to hers. "Mercy?" asked Lois. "You want mercy from me?"

Arianna felt her knees turn to water and her feet go numb. "P-please! Mercy, yes, mercy! Please--"

Lois shook her effortlessly. "You just deliberately murdered a man you claim you once loved! And you would have murdered me! You're responsible for six deaths I personally know of! You blackmailed a frightened young woman for years and then shot her to death and tried to kill her parents! You've stolen, lied, cheated, bought judges, bribed lawmakers, destroyed people's lives! And for what?" Lois shook her again. "Tell me why you did all of that!"

Desperate, Arianna grasped Lois' wrist and tried to force her to let go, with no success.

"Talk to me!" Lois growled. "These will be your last words, so make them good ones!" A feral smile crept across her face. "Make them suitable for the morning paper. I promise to quote you exactly."

Arianna suddenly found herself thrown into a wingback chair. Both she and the chair went over backwards and she ended up on her hands and knees, looking down at her purse.

Her purse! The Kryptonite!

She heard Lois' shoes slip softly across the carpet as she scrambled for the small lead box. "Looking for another gun, Arianna?" Lois taunted. "What makes you think it would do you any more good than the last one did?"

The box! She'd found it! She flipped it open as Lois grabbed her by the collar again and lifted her bodily into the air, then released her and let her crash down onto the floor. Desperately fighting through the pain, Arianna spun and kicked out at Lois' legs.

Lois let out a cry of shocked surprise and fell to the floor. Arianna was thrilled. It works! The crystal works on both of them!

Before Arianna could react, Lois was on her, slamming her fists against Arianna's face and head. Arianna returned the punches as best she could, but even with the green crystal sapping her powers, Lois was younger and stronger. They traded blows for several moments until Arianna called up her last reserves of strength to shove Lois away with her leg. As Lois tried to resume her attack, Arianna kicked her once more, this time opening a gash on Lois' cheek which spurted blood.

Lois fell to her elbows and knees, stunned. Arianna snatched her purse up and rolled away. She pulled out the little twenty-five caliber automatic pistol she kept there for backup or quiet killings and snapped a shot at her adversary.

Her hurried aim was awful. The bullet slapped against the wall far above Lois' head, but the younger woman's shocked expression was worth it. Arianna lowered her aim and pulled the trigger again, but Lois rolled out of the way and ducked behind a sofa. Another miss.

Arianna staggered to her feet. "I've got you now, Lois Lane, Ultra Woman, whatever your name is! I'm going to shoot you right between the eyes and watch you die. The Kryptonite will make you weak and helpless and I'm going to finish the job." She limped towards the sofa carefully, knowing now that it was a dangerous mistake to underestimate Lois Lane. "Come on, Lois, don't make this any harder that it has to -- whoof!"

Lois popped up and threw her shoes into Arianna's face, and before she could fire, Lois had rolled the sofa over towards her. Arianna stumbled backwards and tripped onto her back and fired another round into the ceiling as she fell. She recovered as quickly as she could and fired three times into the overturned sofa, trying to hit Lois with a lucky shot.

She rose to her knees and looked around, despite the swelling she felt around her right eye. Lois wasn't making any noise that Arianna could hear, so she crept closer to the sofa and lunged around it with the pistol at the ready.

Nothing but a few splotches of blood on the floor.

Arianna quickly checked the magazine in her pistol. Four rounds, plus the one in the chamber. This was turning into quite an adventure, and she didn't have any spare ammunition for the lethal little popgun. She'd have to be careful not to waste any more shots.

"Where are you, Lois?" she sang softly. "Come out, come out, wherever you are. I'm going to find you." She grinned, enjoying the hunt. "Marco?" There was, of course, no response of "Polo" from Lois. "Come on, Lois, play the game with me. Marco?"

She stifled an urge to laugh. It had been too long since she'd personally taken care of her opponents. She'd let Nigel or Beth-Ann do it for too long. She missed Beth-Ann, but maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that Nigel was dead. After all, the money he'd squirreled away was waiting for her to draw on like vintage wine from a cool storage cellar. The silly man had believed that Arianna hadn't known exactly where it was, how much was there, and how to get to it. Nigel's hoard combined with hers would allow her to pick and choose any young man she wanted. All she'd have to do would be to bait a hook with a few dollars and a little cleavage, and they'd climb over each other to sacrifice themselves to her. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel.

But first she had this one little brunette fish she had to shoot. "Come on, Lois, don't make this hard on both of us. You know I'm going to find you."

Something whacked the floor across the room by the library entrance. She spun in that direction, then stopped at the obvious deliberate distraction. "You're getting clumsy, Lois. The crystal is sucking your life away. Let me end your pain, Lois. Let me help--"

She turned as she sensed someone beside her, but something hard slammed into her wrist. She gasped at the sudden pain and stumbled slightly as she tried to transfer the pistol to her uninjured hand. A sudden sharp impact on the back of her neck took her breath away and turned her limbs into melting wax. She fell limply to the floor, face down, and dropped the pistol.

She tried to reach for the weapon but her hands refused to move. She felt her body going into oxygen debt, but she couldn't make her lungs inhale. In fact, she couldn't feel anything. Not anywhere.

She started to panic, then something made her roll onto her back. Her head wobbled loosely for a moment, then she felt a hand on her chin.

Asabi. It was Asabi kneeling over her. She tried to say something to him, but her mouth wouldn't quite form the words.

She heard his voice as if from across the room. "You have murdered my finest friend, Dr. Carlin. And you have tried to murder Miss Lane, who is also my friend." He showed her a straight stick of some kind. "You have forgotten that I am a master of escrima, and that it is a deadly fighting art. Your neck is broken and your spinal cord has been severed. You are dying. Not as slowly and painfully as you deserve, but you are dying nonetheless."

Dying! Her neck was broken! No! It couldn't be! She couldn't die, not like this -- he wouldn't--

Her vision grayed out as if the lights were being turned down. She fought to sit up, to move her head, to do something, anything!

Nothing. No response. Nothing below her chin worked.

Asabi lifted his gaze and said, "Miss Lane, is there not an important task for you to complete?"

The light faded nearly to darkness. She heard a distant click, then Lois said, "The crystal is back in the box."

"Then you will soon be well, Miss Lane?" answered Asabi.

"I think so. Thank you." There was a moment of near silence as the lights went out completely. Only Arianna's hearing still functioned. "Asabi? Did you really -- I mean--"

"Yes. I did."

"So she's--"

"Yes. She is dead."

It was the last thing Arianna Carlin heard in this life.

***

Lois paused, trying to figure out how to feel. On the one hand, a woman was dead at her feet, a woman she herself had, in a moment of rage, intended to kill. What did it matter who actually did the deed? Lois had succumbed to the desire for revenge.

On the other hand, that dead woman had been a criminal mastermind who'd tried to kill her and had killed Lex. And she'd been responsible for dozens of other deaths, not to mention all the other hundreds of other crimes which would be laid at her feet.

One of which would be the death of Lana Lang-Kent.

On top of that, Lois hadn't taken any of the several opportunities she'd had to kill Arianna. Did that make her more or less a heroine?

She'd deal with her feelings about her intent to kill Arianna later. Maybe tomorrow she could schedule some time to think about that. Or maybe she could stuff them in a blender and press the 'puree' button.

But why was Asabi there? What had brought him to the penthouse?

"Asabi?" she began. "How did you know to come up here?"

He stood and clasped his hands together in front. "The pistol."

"What? Which pistol?"

"The one which fell from the balcony. It struck the limousine and penetrated the windshield. When I saw it, I knew that there was much trouble here."

"I see." She hesitated, then asked, "Is that how -- I mean, was that what tipped you off to me being Ultra Woman?"

He shook his head slightly. "No, Miss Lane. I had suspected your dual identity since our journey to Brazil last year, and when Mr. Luthor returned from your boating trip several weeks ago it was confirmed to me by the simplified and almost identical stories told by all four of you, combined with several facts I gathered from each of you."

"Oh, good. I suppose dozens of people have figured it out by now."

"No. I know this only because of my close relationship with -- my friendship with Mr. Luthor. Had I not been in this position, I would not now have this knowledge." He closed his eyes and shuddered for a moment. "And now -- my friend -- my friend is -- I have failed him when--"

Lois stepped closer and hugged him lightly. "Asabi, I'm so sorry. I know how much he depended on you and how much he cared about you. I know that he considered you his closest friend in the world." She turned her head to one side and sniffed. "You didn't fail him. If anyone failed him, it was me."

He slowly put his arms around her back and bent his head until it rested on her shoulder. Then he wept quietly for a long time.

So did Lois.

Chapter Fifteen

Clark walked onto the news floor, at once hoping he'd see Lois and knowing that he wouldn't. "Hi, Perry. Hey, what are you doing here on a Saturday afternoon? I thought the Sunday edition was already put to bed."

Perry hauled himself out of his chair. "Much to my wife's displeasure, there is always news happening. And this is the biggest story since Elvis and Priscilla's triplets a few years back."

Clark frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You haven't -- of course you don't know, it's too soon. Come with me. I'm about to initiate a call with Bill Henderson. Since you're here, you need to be in on it."

Perry gestured for Clark to sit down in front of one of the notepads on the table. As usual, there were a dozen or so freshly sharpened pencils in the middle of the table.

The editor thumbed the 'on' button and the speakerphone buzzed with a dial tone. Perry punched in a number and waited two rings, then a voice answered, "Henderson."

"Bill, this is Perry. Clark Kent is here with me."

"You sure that's wise?"

Perry sighed. "I'd never hear the end of it if I shut him out."

"You're changing the front page for this, aren't you?"

"Wouldn't you?"

A dry chuckle grated out of the speaker. "I don't have to write this up for the public, just for the DA."

"So give us the lowdown, Bill."

"Here goes. This afternoon, at about four o'clock, Lex Luthor was shot in his apartment by his--"

"WHAT!"

"Easy there, Clark," Perry said. "Right now that's all we know. Let Bill finish his statement, okay?"

Clark took a breath and closed his mouth, then nodded.

When Clark heard Bill say that Lex Luthor was dead and Lois was being questioned, he almost stopped breathing. The news stunned him. He could barely see his pad to take notes, much less find his desk and know where his fingers were on the keyboard.

***

Breaking news always took precedence over a reporter's personal life, even Clark Kent's. So Clark found himself at his desk, trying to make sense of what he'd learned that evening and reminding himself to call his parents and tell them not to wait dinner on him.

Lex Luthor was dead, murdered in his own apartment by his ex-wife, Dr. Arianna Carlin. Dr. Carlin had then died at the hands of Lex' friend Asabi, who was in police custody along with Lois Lane, who had fought with Dr. Carlin prior to her death. Neither Asabi nor Lois was expected to be charged with anything, and neither one was under arrest, but they were being interviewed in order to discover just what had happened in that apartment.

There was the finished sidebar with Dr. Carlin's biography, including her brief marriage to Luthor and her psychology practice, where she had specialized in counseling incarcerated felons. The sidebar also contained the public information about Dr. Carlin's involvement in LexCorp and its associated businesses, and it also hinted at more nefarious involvement on her part. The quoted speculation by the District Attorney that her practice had been a front for her criminal activities was detailed in the main story.

After about forty minutes of Clark struggling with his word processor, Perry stopped by his desk and asked about his progress. When Clark confessed his difficulty in putting together a quality front-page piece, Perry glanced over it, told him it looked pretty good as it was, and to send whatever he had to the editor's inbox for a final polish.

Then Perry told Clark to go get his head on straight and all but pushed him out the window.

He changed into Superman in the alley behind the Daily Planet and began his patrol, but he needed more than this. He had to talk to someone about all the sudden and drastic changes in his life. Lois was otherwise occupied, of course, besides which she had shut off the link at her end, so Clark couldn't talk to her without forcing himself on her. And he didn't want to do that.

He realized that he needed to go to Smallville after all. So he aimed himself west.

Despite stopping three muggings in Metropolis, unstacking a nine-car pileup in Kentucky, preventing a carjacking in St. Louis, catching an apparent suicide jumper from the Red River bridge in northwest Louisiana, and controlling a runaway SUV with a ten-year-old driver in northeast Oklahoma, he was early.

As he landed just north of Smallville, Clark spun into jeans, polo shirt, and tennis shoes, then looked at his watch. With the time zone difference, it was still more than two hours to dinner, and he didn't want to get in his mother's way in the kitchen.

He also didn't want to face her interrogation alone. He had to give his father time to get there.

Besides, it was time for something he hadn't done for a while, something he'd put off too long.

It was time to visit Lana's grave.

Her body had never been recovered after the explosion, of course, but her memorial headstone was situated in Smallville's main cemetery, almost at the back of the grid work of graves and markers. He'd never seen the headstone, since it had been placed after the memorial service, but he knew the epitaph read, "Lana Lang-Kent -- Beloved Wife and Daughter -- Rest In Peace."

Now if Clark could only get some peace about his future.

He approached the entrance and waved to the elderly security guard. Mr. Dolman was in his early eighties now, wore trifocal lenses and hearing aids, walked slowly despite his flame-painted cane, and his voice cracked when he tried to speak loudly. But he'd been the guard at the cemetery entrance since before Clark had landed in Shuster's Field, and the man knew everyone in the tri-county area.

"Afternoon, Clark," he called. "Reckon I know why you're here. You just take your time, son, and I'll be here when you leave. As long as it's before dusk, of course, cause I gotta get these old bones home and let them rest."

"Thanks, Mr. Dolman. Oh, I won't bother anyone in there, will I?"

The older man slowly shook his head. "You won't bother anyone. All of our guests are permanent residents and they don't mind visitors."

Clark smiled at the old joke and walked in. To get to Lana's grave, he had to walk down a slight incline, then up and over a low rise, through a stand of sycamore trees, and past the huge Martin mausoleum. The family had helped Smallville get through the worst of the Great Depression in the 1930s, and out of gratitude the townsfolk kept their final resting place neat and trim.

As Clark stepped around the Martin memorial, he saw a woman kneeling not far from Lana's headstone. He slowed his approach so as not to startle her or disturb her, but then he realized that she wasn't just near Lana's grave, she was kneeling beside it.

She was wearing a stylish dark pantsuit and low-heeled shoes, with a matching sweater draped over her shoulders and tied by the sleeves in front of her neck. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was gathered expensively on top of her head. He still didn't quite recognize her, so he decided to find out, very discreetly, who she was.

Then he saw the bottle of Jack Daniels in her right hand. And the pill bottle in her left hand.

She was trouble with a capital 'T'.

He quickened his pace as much as he dared and walked into her line of sight. "Ma'am?" he called out. "Are you okay?"

She lifted weary eyes to look at him, and he thought he recognized her. But who was she? How did he know her?

"Aren't you Clark Kent?" she asked.

He slowly stepped closer. "Yes. Have we met?"

She shook her head slowly. "Just once in the last twelve years or so. Think red carpet, big stack of presents, 'Clarkie,' my husband Robbie--"

The memory clicked into place. "Carolyn! You -- you're Lana's mother!"

Her gaze slid to the front of the gravestone. "Yes. Carolyn McConnell, used to be Carolyn Lang before she got so stupid. I'm what's left of her, anyway."

He knelt down on the other side of the grave. "Mind telling me what you're planning to do with those pills?"

She lifted the bottle in her left hand and grunted. "Huh. I forgot I had them." She inhaled and sighed. "I was going to take all of these -- they're Valium, twenty milligrams, and I think there are still about fifty in the bottle. And then I was going to drink as much of this ninety-proof whiskey as I could, lie down on the ground beside my daughter's grave, and die."

Clark sat back on his haunches and crossed his feet. "And now?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I haven't had a drink since the day after I found out my daughter was dead. When my husband Robbie told me, I went up to my room and emptied two bottles of vodka and did major damage to a quart of bourbon. I woke up next morning in the hospital with alcohol poisoning and they thought I wouldn't make it through the night." She chuckled and wiggled the bottle in her right hand. "I did, of course. But I haven't touched a drop since. I wanted to make sure I was good and sober before I ended it all."

He reached out and gently took the whiskey bottle from her hand. "How long have you been here?"

She shrugged and let the pill bottle fall to the grass. "Since a little before noon. What time is it now?"

"It's about four thirty or so."

She nodded. "You know, this is the first time I've had the courage to visit my baby's grave, and I was going to kill myself. Wouldn't that have been stupid?"

"What changed your mind?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe it was that fact that this was my first visit. Maybe I'm scared of dying." She reached out and brushed the grass. "And maybe I just don't want to disappoint my little girl one last time."

"I don't think Lana was disappointed with you."

Her eyes flashed. "Don't lie to me, Clark!" she snapped. "I won't have it! Lana never trusted me from the day I left her in the driveway to wait for Dennis! And why would she? She was only nine years old! How could I have done something like that to my baby? How could I have tossed her away like that?"

He didn't answer.

She wiped unshed tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, you're here to visit Lana, not comfort the self-centered dumb broad who abandoned her." She sniffed and reached out to steady herself. "Time for me to go anyway."

"Wait."

She paused in mid-lean. "What?"

"Wait, please. I'd like to hear some of your memories of Lana."

Carolyn stood and frowned at him. "Why? I never had the decency to visit the two of you. I signed the cards our servants picked out for birthdays and holidays. I don't even remember whether or not I put in the impersonal gift cards. So why do you want to hear anything I might have to say?"

He reached out and touched her wrist. "Because you loved her. Because I loved her. And maybe we can help each other."

She peered into his eyes. "Help -- each other? You mean -- you're still hurting?"

He nodded. "The pain doesn't cripple me anymore. It doesn't keep me from doing my job or from trying to build a life without her. But I don't think I'll ever forget her, not if I live a thousand years. She loved me, and sometimes I still wonder how I lived before I realized I was in love with her."

"Share memories, huh? Kind of like a therapy session, I guess." Carolyn dropped her head for a moment, then slowly sat down again and nodded. "Okay, I'll play along. Which of us goes first?"

"Why don't you start? Maybe something from her childhood?"

"Um." She chewed her lip for a moment, then sighed. "I wanted to ask you about Dennis first. I heard he got married again."

Clark nodded. "He did. He married a very nice lady scientist and as far as I can tell, they're deliriously happy working and living together."

She closed her eyes and waited a breath. "Thank you. I'm glad he's doing well. And I'm glad I didn't permanently ruin his life."

"You didn't. But we were going to talk about Lana, weren't we?"

"Right." Carolyn nodded once. "Let me think -- oh, yeah! She asked us for an archaeologist's hat for her fifth birthday. We didn't understand what she meant until that movie trailer for *Raiders of the Lost Ark* played on TV and she jumped up and down and yelled, 'That's it! That's my hat!' We gave it to her the morning of her birthday, and for the next few months she was 'Indiana Lana' from the time she got up until bedtime."

He smiled and took her hand across the grass in front of the headstone. "Thank you. I never knew that about her, but I can see her at that age, running around with that hat on, trying to find the treasure under the couch."

"Oh, no, it was under the refrigerator. She told us so. She made her father move it so she could dig underneath."

This time they both laughed softly. Then she said, "You know, I was a little -- um -- I'd had a bit to drink before we came to the reception Dennis threw for the two of you, so I don't remember it very clearly. Was Lana wearing a white dress with flowers on it?"

"Yes. She even had tiny yellow flowers woven into her hair." He sighed deeply. "She was so very beautiful that night."

She squeezed his hand. "Thank you. I'm glad I remembered that much."

"You're welcome. Your turn again."

"Actually -- I'd like to ask you something."

He nodded. "Go ahead. I'll answer it if I can."

"How much -- I mean, did she -- no. I just need to blurt it out." Carolyn took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out. "I need to know -- was Lana a good person?"

The question surprised Clark. "Uh -- well, since she and I were married, I'm not sure I can give you an objective evaluation."

"No -- no, I guess you couldn't. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I can tell you what my dad told her."

"What was that?"

"He told her that if they'd adopted a girl, he couldn't have been happier if she'd been like Lana." Clark chuckled. "There were times when I thought he loved her more than he loved me. As far as he's concerned, my mom hung the moon and Lana helped with the stars."

Her eyes squeezed shut and she choked out, "Th-thank you. Thank you for saying that."

"It's true, too. You could ask him yourself."

"Maybe I will someday." She smiled openly for the first time and flicked moisture away from her cheeks. "My turn, right?" He nodded and she took a long breath. "Let's see. How about Lana's first day in kindergarten? One of her friends -- I think it was Charlene -- yes, it was! Charlene wouldn't get out of her mother's car that day no matter who said what to her. Finally Lana marched out to the car, opened the door, put her hands on her hips, and said, 'Charlene, if you're going to graduate from college, you have to start somewhere!'"

Clark laughed aloud with her. "I suppose Charlene went inside?"

"Oh, yes! If Lana wanted someone to do something, that person almost always did it."

"That's true. Did you know about the city water tower?"

"Water tower? No! What about it?"

"It was the spring of her junior year. She convinced five or six of her girlfriends to help her repaint Smallville's main water tower fluorescent pink."

Carolyn clapped her hands over her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle a laugh. "You're kidding me!"

Clark lifted his hand. "No, ma'am, it's the truth I'm telling you with my hand up! They might have gotten away with it, too, if they hadn't gotten pink paint in their hair. Sheriff Harris held them overnight in the jail and released them to their parents after they promised Judge Smith that they'd get all that paint off and repaint the town name properly. And the judge specified that they use black paint to put it back like it was before they 'fixed' it."

They both laughed this time.

They spent the rest of Clark's free time exchanging Lana stories, most funny, some touching, and a few heart-rending. But before they left, they both knew that Carolyn McConnell would not need her pills and whiskey cocktail. She'd always have regrets, but he could tell that she knew it was time for her to move on with her life and build something worth her time.

And Clark became fully aware of something he'd already known but hadn't wanted to face just yet. It was time for him to move on with his life too.

***

Jonathan leaned back and laid his hands on his ample belly. "Martha, that may have been the best meal you've ever made."

She slapped his shoulder playfully as she gathered the spent dishes. "Oh, honey, you always say that! You're just trying to butter me up again." To Clark, she whispered, "He thinks if he praises my cooking I'll be more likely to get frisky with him after you leave."

"Mom! I really don't need to know that, okay?"

She and her husband laughed aloud. "Oh, Clark, I was just teasing! You know that."

"I don't mind the teasing so much, but I do mind knowing -- that other stuff."

Jonathan leaned forward and put his hand on his son's shoulder. "This is where most fathers say something like, 'So where do you think you came from?'"

Clark put his head on the table and covered his ears with his hands.

"Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-I-can't-hear-you-nah-nah-nah-nah--"

Martha pushed Jonathan's hand away. "Leave the boy alone now! He has something important to say to us, don't you, sweetie?"

Clark lifted his head and looked around as if checking for snipers. "Is it safe to come out now?"

The three of them shared a laugh as Martha refilled the tea glasses, then put the pitcher on the table. "Yes, son, it's safe. Your father and I will behave. I promise." She lifted her eyes to her husband and intoned, "Won't we, Jonathan Kent?"

He put on his best innocent face. "Yes, dear, I will most certainly behave."

Clark chuckled. "Thanks, you two."

"For what, son?"

Clark put one hand on his father's wrist and one on his mother's. "For being the best parents a guy could ever have. I honestly don't see how I could possibly love you two more than I do."

Jonathan sensed that they were finally getting to the real reason for the visit. "Do you have something you want to tell us, son? Or is there something you want to ask us?"

Clark sighed. "Something I want -- no, that I need to tell you." He leaned back with another sigh. "Rebecca and I broke up today."

Martha leaned over and enveloped him in her comfort. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry," she said.

Jonathan squeezed Clark's hand but didn't say anything. He'd never been totally comfortable with Clark's relationship with Rebecca, but he hadn't said anything because he hadn't been asked. He had loved Lana like a daughter, almost as much as Clark had loved her, but she was gone and his son had been behaving as if he'd considered marrying some other woman.

And to his own surprise, it was okay with Jonathan.

He hadn't wanted it to be okay. He hadn't wanted to let go of his feelings for Lana. He hadn't wanted anyone to replace her, not now, not ever. But it was time for him to accept her death, to accept that she was never coming back, and to accept that his son was a man who -- despite all his powers -- needed to love a good woman and be loved by her. He just couldn't see Rebecca in that role, though.

He could, however, see Lois Lane in that role.

And, once again, he knew he couldn't say anything about her unless Clark -- or, even less likely, Lois herself -- asked his opinion on the subject. It wasn't his place to dictate to his son who he should love or who he should marry. That was Clark's call all the way.

As Martha released Clark from the hug in which she'd enveloped him, Jonathan asked, "Is this a permanent breakup?"

Clark nodded. "Yes. Rebecca and I want different things from marriage. I want a home I can feel safe in and a wife who'll make me her top priority in this life, just like I'd make her my top priority in life. Rebecca and I have decided that we aren't going down the same road together, that we never will go down the same road together, and that we need to get out of each other's way."

Jonathan nodded. "But it still hurts, doesn't it?"

Clark exhaled. "Yes. It does. But not like I thought it would."

Jonathan nodded again. "That sounds like you've been thinking about ending it with Rebecca for a while now."

His son squinted and tilted his head to one side. "Huh. I hadn't thought about it like that, but I guess I have been."

Martha patted his hand again. "Honey, you just take all the time you need here tonight. You can spend the night if you want."

Now he frowned. "I wish I could, but there's a big story breaking back in Metropolis that I have to cover." Clark sat up straight and looked at both his parents in turn. "Lex Luthor was shot to death this afternoon by his ex-wife Arianna Carlin. And Lois is with the police now, answering questions."

"What!" barked Jonathan. "Why is Lois under arrest?"

"No, Dad, she hasn't been arrested. The story we're printing tomorrow morning is that Carlin shot and killed Lex before Lois got there, tried to shoot Lois but Lois fought her off, and Carlin was in turn killed by Lex' servant Asabi in self-defense. The police just need Asabi's and Lois' statements about what happened."

"Why -- why would Lois need to fight her off? What happened to her powers?"

"I don't know exactly what happened, Dad. I assume that Carlin had some more of that green crystal, but I can't be sure until I talk to Lois, and besides, that's not something we're going to publish. I'll let you know more details when I get them."

Jonathan's mouth hung open and he couldn't think of anything else to say. He closed it with a snap and glanced at his wife, who was as pale with shock as he'd ever seen her. He reached over to touch her hand, and as soon as he did, she grabbed it and held on for all she was worth.

Clark stood. "Mom, Dad, I'm really sorry to drop this on you and fly off, but I have to go. I want to be available for Perry if he needs me. And I need to be available for Lois if she wants to talk to me."

Jonathan nodded. "I understand, son. But can't you just think at her? You know, talk mind to mind?"

"She's turned the connection off at her end, and I have to respect her privacy."

"Honey, I understand your discretion," Martha offered, "but Lois really needs a friend right now."

"I know. I plan to go over there tomorrow morning and talk to her, assuming I can get past the police, and assuming she's willing to talk."

Jonathan pulled in a breath through his nose and let it out slowly. "She will, Clark. You're her best friend. And it sounds to me like she really needs a friend."

Clark bent down and kissed his mother on the cheek, then stood tall and looked his father in the eye. "I hope you're right, Dad. I'm going to be available either way. And Superman is going to fly a few extra patrols near her apartment tonight."

Martha stood and gave her son a quick hug. "Go, Clark! Go be a good friend."

"Thanks, Mom, Dad. You two are the best." He took a step towards the back door, then stopped and half-turned toward them. "Even if you do talk dirty in front of me."

He was gone by the time Jonathan's belly laugh escaped.

Chapter Sixteen

Deputy Chief Roberta Jean Thompson had a strong sense of justice. Unlike some television law enforcement officers, she would never deliberately place a suspect in jeopardy, nor would she permit someone in her custody to be endangered so she could close a case. She believed very strongly that under the American justice system, the only place to establish guilt or innocence was a court of law. And the only body to mete out justice was that same court. She always went by the book and never bent the law to increase her conviction rate. She relied on law and proper procedure to guide her professional life, not some nebulous gut feeling or unreliable sixth sense.

But the book wasn't quite clear on what she was supposed to do with Lois Lane.

She leaned back in a desk chair in the squad room and thought about the case. On the one hand, the preliminary medical examiner's reports on both Dr. Carlin and Mr. Luthor supported the Lane woman's story of finding the dying man in his apartment and then defending herself against Dr. Carlin's attempts to kill her. There were a number of empty cartridges of the same caliber as the bullet which had slain Mr. Luthor, and of the four people in the apartment that evening, there was gunshot residue only on Dr. Carlin's hands. The twenty-five caliber pistol which had been fired into the furniture and the walls of the apartment also had only Dr. Carlin's fingerprints on it.

The damage to the victim's wrist and the fatal wound on her neck could only have been produced by someone skillfully wielding a long wooden stick or rod, and Asabi's escrima sticks fit the wounds. One even had blood and hair from Dr. Carlin on it. The medical examiner said that the other bruises and contusions on Dr. Carlin's body were inflicted on her immediately before she'd died, so the story of the fight with Lois seemed to check out, including the bruises on Lane's knuckles and the bandaged cut over her cheekbone. And even though Lois Lane had a long history with the Metro Police, she'd never done anything technically illegal without having a valid reason for it, nor had she ever been convicted of any crime. Having Bill Henderson in her corner didn't hurt her case either.

On the other hand, the crime scene investigation team hadn't found enough spent nine-millimeter bullets to match up with the number of casings scattered around. Lane's story was a little spotty about how she'd gotten the larger pistol away from Carlin and how it had fallen off the balcony to fall to the street below. Three other witnesses, the building's security officer at the front door and a couple walking past the entrance at the time, all substantiated Asabi's claim that he'd been on the street until the pistol had fallen through the limousine's windshield, so any thought of an ambush set up between Lane and Asabi was out of the picture. But Roberta was still puzzled as to the exact sequence of events.

The details of the story didn't quite fit together. And Roberta knew that details often tripped up the most innocent-looking criminal.

She pushed open the interview room door and sat down across from Lane. The other woman was obviously unhappy, but Roberta didn't sense that she was angry at the police, but rather that she was unhappy with the situation. And that actually made sense.

Maybe it was time to put all the cards on the table. Maybe Lane would reciprocate and ease Roberta's mind about the case.

Roberta pushed her glasses up on her nose. "Ms. Lane, I want to thank you for bein' so patient with us. And I want to say how very sorry we are about your loss."

Lois met Roberta's eyes for the first time. "Thank you," she whispered.

Roberta tilted her head sympathetically. "We just have a few more questions to ask, and then you can go. I know this has been a very difficult time for you."

Lois nodded once but didn't speak.

After a moment, Roberta continued, "As you know, Dr. Arianna Carlin died of a severed spinal cord after being struck with what appears to be an escrima stick. You ever study escrima, Ms. Lane?"

Lois shook her head. "Taekwondo, a little Wing Chun, a couple of judo lessons, but no escrima."

"So Mr. Asabi struck Dr. Carlin and killed her?"

"Yes. But only because he knew she was trying to kill me."

"And you're absolutely certain of that?"

"That Asabi knew she was trying to kill me?"

"No. I meant, are you absolutely certain she was trying to kill you?"

Lois crossed her arms and frowned. "You ever play 'Marco Polo' in the swimming pool?"

"Yes. One person closes his eyes and calls out 'Marco.' Anybody who answers 'Polo' gets chased. It's kind of like a game of water tag."

"Uh-huh. Arianna Carlin was trying to tag me with her pistol. Permanently."

"I see."

Lois shuddered. "I doubt I'll ever be able to hear any kids playing it without seeing her creep along with that little gun in her hand, calling out 'Marco' while she hunted for me to shoot me."

"I totally understand, Ms. Lane." Roberta took off her glasses and tilted her head sympathetically again. "That had to have been a very scary moment. And I understand if you can't tell us why our crime scene technicians can't find all the spent bullets from Dr. Carlin's nine- millimeter pistol."

"Tracking all those bullets really wasn't my priority at the time, no."

"Of course not. We just need to cross all of our I's and dot all of our T's before we close this case. You understand, I'm sure."

"Cross your I's and dot your T's, huh?" The Lane woman stared straight into Roberta's eyes. "I understand a lot, Chief Thompson. I understand that you're at least twice as smart as you try to appear. And I understand that your sweet Southern accent combined with your charming smile and deliberate errors in speech disarm most people." She leaned forward and spoke almost fiercely. "But I'm not most people. I didn't kill Arianna Carlin. I've told you everything I can tell you about that night. And I'm ready to go home. Unless, of course, you want to arrest me for something."

Roberta slowly put her glasses back on. So much for putting the cards on the table. Her bluff was called and she had no option but to watch this witness walk out. There was no legal basis for arresting her. And the woman didn't feel like a criminal to Roberta.

"Very well, Ms. Lane, you're free to go. I can arrange for a ride for you wherever you want to go. As long as it's within the city, of course."

"Of course. That would be nice, thank you."

Roberta tried her most winning smile. "It's absolutely no problem. There's a ladies' room around the corner to the right if you'd like to wash up before you leave. One of my detectives will be waiting for you right outside this room."

"Sounds good to me." Lois pushed back the chair and stood. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I hope I don't see you any time soon, at least not about -- about this case."

Roberta stood and opened the door. "Of course not. I completely understand." She led Lois out of the room and pointed toward the bathroom, then called out, "Sergeant Michaels? Please wait for Ms. Lane right here, and when she comes back please take her wherever she wants to go."

The tall, slender black man nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Anything else?"

Roberta turned to see that Lois was out of sight in the bathroom. "No. Just come on back as soon as you let her out wherever she wants to go. We still have a lot of paperwork to finish on this Luthor case."

He nodded and moved to stand beside the conference room door.

Roberta walked back to her office, thinking about Lois Lane. The woman was under a lot of stress, of course, but she didn't appear to be exhausted, just monumentally frustrated. And she wasn't behaving like someone who'd just had the love of her life die in her arms. She was saddened and upset by the man's death, but she wasn't stricken. Of course, she might just be someone who didn't believe in letting her grief out among strangers.

Or there might be a great deal more to the story than Roberta knew at the moment.

Whatever. She had dozens of open cases, and the city of Metropolis averaged more than two murders a day. There was more than enough work for her to do without going after a woman who was so obviously not guilty of killing anyone.

But she'd keep her eyes and ears open anyway. One never knew when one might learn something useful.

***

It was well after dark when Lois unlocked her apartment door and turned to the officer who'd brought her home. "Thank you. I can take it from here."

Sergeant Michaels flashed her a charming grin. "Yes, ma'am. Take care, now."

She didn't answer as she opened the door and stepped inside.

Lex was dead. Arianna was dead. Asabi was under investigation for Arianna's death, although Lois didn't think he'd be tried for any crime, and hopefully not even arrested. What would happen to LexCorp and the associated companies was too much to think about for the moment. If Lois were lucky, she wouldn't be arrested either. And her powers weren't anywhere near full strength yet, assuming they ever did come back all the way.

Asabi had placed Arianna's lead kryptonite box up high on one of Lex' bookshelves, positioned so that it looked like it belonged there. If her powers came back, she'd take the box and get rid of it permanently. If not, she'd ask Clark to do it.

This was a total, utter, complete train wreck of a day.

She leaned her forehead against the door and closed her eyes. She was so focused on herself that the sound of the locks being fastened didn't rouse her for a moment.

But that meant that someone else was here. That meant that she could talk to that someone, maybe even cry on that someone's shoulder. Maybe that someone was Clark.

Two thin arms embraced her around the shoulders and a young woman's voice said, "Oh, Lois, I'm so sorry."

She turned slowly to see Lucy's tear-streaked face. For a brief moment she was furious that it wasn't Clark holding her. She was angry at Clark for not being here. She was livid at Lucy for not being Clark.

Then she realized that he wouldn't invade her home without her permission, and that he was probably working on the story of Lex' death even now. And she also realized that Lucy was here, was willing to share her grief, and that she needed to let it out to someone she trusted.

She almost smiled when she realized she trusted her sister with her grief.

Lois let her head sink down on Lucy's shoulder. Her arms went around the younger woman's waist and she squeezed her eyes shut as the tears came again.

Lois cried for Lex, for the loss of a man she counted as a good friend, for the loss of a man who had loved her even if she couldn't return that love, for the hole he'd leave in her life, and for the pain she knew Asabi felt and would feel for the rest of his life.

She sensed Lucy leading her to the couch, where they awkwardly flumped down with Lois all but falling into her sister's lap. After a long moment, Lois sat up and wiped her face with one hand.

Like a stage magician, Lucy pulled a clean dish towel out of a pocket in her slacks. "Here, Sis, use this. It's more absorbent than your skin."

Lois chuckled through her tears and took the towel. "I -- *sniff* -- I guess you know that from experience, huh?"

"Well, I have drowned a few of these in my time."

Lois didn't answer, but did utilize Lucy's thoughtfulness to dry her face. As she pulled the towel away, she realized that her makeup was now all over the towel. "Better here than on my clothes, I guess," she muttered.

Lucy stroked Lois' hair. "Can I get you anything, Sis? Are you hungry or thirsty?"

Lois sniffed again. "Not hungry, but a soda would be nice."

"Coming right up."

As Lois took the glass, she said, "I suppose the phone's been ringing off the wall nonstop."

"No. I turned off the ringer and turned down the volume on your answering machine. You've got about a gazillion messages from all sorts of people."

"What? But I--"

"No! You sit down right here. You can listen to the messages tomorrow, after you've had a good night's sleep."

Lois leaned back and sighed. "Okay, yeah, I am pretty wiped out right now."

"Good. I did take a message from Mr. White, and he told me to tell you to call him at the office on Monday whenever you got up and the two of you would figure out what to do from there. Oh, I also got a message from Clark Kent just before I turned off the ringer. He said that he's going to drop by in the morning after you get some sleep, and that he's available to talk or listen or skip rocks in the stream any time you want." Lucy frowned. "I didn't quite understand that last part, but I have to assume that you do, because you're almost smiling right now."

Lois shook her head. "Yeah, I understand. Clark's a really great guy."

"Ah. Well, maybe you -- no, forget that."

"What?"

"Nothing. Forget I even breathed, okay?"

"Well -- okay, if you--"

"Hey, I know you said you weren't hungry, but I was and I had a big pepperoni pizza delivered about an hour ago and I can heat it up if you want something to eat. Or I could run out to the video store and pick up a movie. The Three Stooges, maybe? Or a sci-fi movie? Or a romantic comedy, one where Hugh Grant courts the female lead and makes her fall in love with him even though he's a total jerk?"

Lois laughed softly. "No movie, no thanks. But a couple of slices of pizza actually sound good right now. You did get the deep dish crust, didn't you?"

"What? No way! That's just bread with sauce on it. Real pizza has thin, thin crust."

"Like a cracker with sauce on it? Come on, Luce, you need to learn to eat real Metropolis pizza."

They stood and walked into the kitchen together, still smiling at each other. "If I want a toasted open-faced pepperoni sandwich I'll make one myself," retorted Lucy.

"Yeah? Well, if I want a sixteen-inch Ritz cracker with tomato sauce and cheese on it I'll make it myself."

"Make it yourself? You can't boil water without burning it!"

"I'll have you know that I've learned to make a few meals since we lived together!"

"And they all come in plastic trays with microwave instructions on the box, too!"

Lois leaned back against the counter and laughed, then started crying again. Lucy ran to embrace her. "Oh, Sis, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it, honest!"

Lois returned the hug. "No, Luce, it's okay. Really. I just -- I've missed having you around and I didn't even realize it. I'm so glad you're here."

Lucy smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "Then I'm glad I'm here too. I'll just pop this pizza in the microwave and let it heat up, and while that's happening I'll refill your soda. Then we'll sit down and I'll tell you all about my classes and the crazy professors who teach them."

Lois stroked her sister's hair. "Sounds like a plan to me."

As Lucy bustled about the kitchen, Lois realized that as bad as the day had been, there were still thin beams of light shining through the dense clouds. Maybe not blindingly bright beams, but there was light. And maybe her life would go on after all.

Lucy was there for her. Sweet, crazy, unpredictable, unreliable Lucy had grown up while Lois wasn't looking. Somehow she'd morphed from a crazy teenager with no thought for the next day to a mature young woman who was someone Lois could rely on for help. It was totally unexpected, but welcome as cool water on a hot summer's day.

Lucy wasn't the only great person in her life, either. After all that had happened to her, Perry was still the best boss a woman could wish for, Jimmy was as much a little brother as she'd ever known, and Clark was still part of her world. Even if the closest relationship she'd ever have with him would be as best friends.

She wouldn't want it to be enough, she knew. But it was better than chasing him away or making him so uncomfortable around her that one of them would have to pull away.

She'd make sure it was enough. It was a small price to pay to keep him around.

Chapter Seventeen

The following morning, Clark opened his eyes before his alarm woke him. He sat up and felt inside him for the link to Lois. He was surprised and pleased to find that it was open.

-* Lois? *- he sent.

-* Yes, Clark? *-

-* I hope I didn't wake you. *-

-* No. I didn't sleep much last night. *-

-* I understand. Would it be okay if I dropped by this morning? *-

He felt a smile come across the link. -* That would be nice. Just try to get here soon. Our competitors are already gathering outside. *-

-* Okay. I'll start as soon as I get dressed. *-

-* I need to warn you about a couple of things. *-

-* Go ahead. *-

-* First, Lucy's here and she's even worse than I am when she doesn't get enough sleep. Second, there's a small lead box with some of that nasty green crystal in Lex' -- in his apartment on a bookshelf. Carlin used it on me. *-

-* The crystal? Lois, are you okay? *-

-* I think so. All it does to me is take away my powers, remember? And one of us can take it and throw it in the sun when things calm down over there. Anyway, while I was normal again, she whacked me around pretty good, so I really look like I've been in a fight. I'm starting to feel a little more -- super, I guess, but I'm not back yet, and I didn't want you to be upset when you saw how my face looks. *-

-* I'm just glad you're okay. *-

-* Thanks. I don't want to tell Lucy about our link right now, because she'll want to know why it's there, and then she'll start thinking about my powers having come from Superman, and she's no dummy and she's liable to start thinking about who Superman is when he's not zipping around the skies. *-

-* I understand. Thanks for the warning. *-

-* I don't remember if I told you, but Lucy knows I'm Ultra Woman. *-

-* You told me. Amazing that she figured it out the way she did. *-

-* And I want to remind you that she doesn't know that you're Superman. If you want to tell her, that's up to you. I think she can handle it, but maybe today wouldn't be a good day. *-

-* Probably not. Maybe later. *-

-* Whoops, here comes Lucy now. She's going to try to feed me breakfast. See you when you get here. *-

And with that, the link clicked shut from Lois' end.

Clark wasn't offended. Her exhaustion, both physical and mental, had leaked through, and he certainly didn't want to put any more pressure on her at this point. He'd go over, give her the option of dropping some of her burdens on him, and leave when it was time.

***

Surprised at the small crowd of media reps on the street at six forty on Sunday morning, Clark shouldered his way past two dozen or more reporters from other outlets. Most of them were from what Perry would have called "birdcage liner" publications, but there was one from the *New York Standard* and a video crew from LNN. He ignored their shouted questions and stopped in front of the young female officer in front of Lois' apartment building entrance.

She raised her hand palm out. "I'm sorry, sir, but you can't come in the building unless you live here. Departmental orders."

"I understand. Maybe if I tell you my name?"

The short, dark-skinned woman wouldn't have slowed Clark down much even if he hadn't had powers, but that didn't mean that she didn't project a real aura of authority. "I doubt it would make a difference, sir."

"But I'm a coworker of Lois Lane. My name is Clark Kent."

Her eyes flickered and widened for an instant, then she nodded. "Of course, sir. I apologize for not recognizing you."

He shrugged. "No reason you should. I don't think we've ever met. You're Officer O'Brian?"

"Yes. I've read your work, Mr. Kent. You're very good."

"Thank you, Officer. Right now, though, I'm just a friend visiting a friend in need."

"Of course. Please, go right in."

"Thank you."

As he took the steps two at a time, he glanced back at the wolf pack of lampreys shouting at the officer and demanding the same access Clark had received. He was impressed by her calm but firm refusal to allow anyone to even climb the steps to the building, and when one tall blonde woman tried, the officer cut her off and herded her back to the pack without fuss or bother.

Satisfied that Lois' building was secure, he took the stairs up to Lois' apartment. He lowered his glasses and cautiously glanced inside, hoping to see only fully clothed people.

Lois was sitting at the breakfast table, wearing bunny slippers, a pair of sweatpants, and a pullover jersey from Metro U. A younger version of Lois was buttering several very dark slices of toast in the kitchen and muttering to herself about the lack of cooking skills in the Lane family.

He smiled. Here was something positive he could do for Lois.

His knock brought the younger woman to the door. She peered under the thick chain lock and looked at him closely. "Are you Clark Kent?" she demanded.

"Yes, I--"

The door slammed shut, the chain rattled, and the door flew open. She reached out and grabbed his arm and yanked him into the room. "Get in here now, Kent!"

Surprised, Clark allowed her to push him toward the dining area. He heard her fasten the locks behind him.

Lois finally turned to look in his direction. "Hi, Clark. I'm glad you came."

He opened his mouth to speak, but the younger woman overrode him. "Can you cook breakfast, Kent?"

"Uh, yes, if you have--"

She shoved him in the kidneys and guided him toward the kitchenette. "Then go cook something! Lois is helpless in there and I'm not far behind her."

"Lucy, you're a pretty good cook," murmured Lois.

"Not today I'm not! I'm too frustrated and tired. And I've never been good with any breakfast more complicated than cereal and toast. Come on, Kent, get cracking in there."

He surrendered to the inevitable and began checking Lois' cabinets for ingredients. "Is there any pancake mix? And syrup?"

Lucy pointed to his left. "Mix in the corner cabinet, syrup in the fridge. We have milk and eggs in there, too, but I burned almost all the bread trying to make toast."

Clark turned and looked at her quizzically. "Toaster's busted," she explained. "It won't pop up when it's done and all I can smell is that it's burnt."

He refrained from laughing and nodded. "Give me fifteen minutes and we'll have pancakes and eggs. Is scrambled okay or do you want them over easy?"

"Scrambled is fine," Lucy said. "Just make them edible and don't try for anything fancy."

He nodded. "Nothing fancy. Got it."

He heard Lucy sit down at the table beside Lois, so he tried for some light conversation. "Perry went to pick up Jimmy and his buddies from the fishing shack this morning. I'd guess they're ready to come home."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I know Jimmy's not exactly a nature nut, and those other two seemed to be total city boys too."

He grinned at her. "Then they'll be glad to see asphalt again." He waited for a moment, and when neither woman spoke, he said, "Have you looked outside this morning? The news is spreading."

Lois sighed. "I saw them from my bedroom window. I've never been this much a part of the story before, and I don't think I like it." She shook her head and stood. "I now have a lot more sympathy for the people I've interviewed over the years."

Clark paused and turned to face her. "You know it will get worse before it gets better, don't you?"

"Oh, thanks, Kent," snarled Lucy. "I just got her out of the bedroom a few minutes ago. Why don't you tell her something really encouraging, like how much time she's going to spend in jail?"

"Lucy!" cried Lois. "Clark is my friend and he came here to help me! You be nice to him! I mean it!"

"What? Sis, you can't--"

"Yes I can! You've done nothing but snap at him since he came in and I won't have it! You be nice or I'll -- I'll give you a swirly!"

Lucy's mouth dropped open and her eyes bulged. After a long moment, she leaned back in the chair and looked at her older sister, then composed herself and turned to Clark. "Mr. Kent? I apologize for my behavior. I've been rude and inconsiderate, especially seeing that you're here so early on a Sunday morning." She crossed her arms and sighed. "I'm usually much nicer than this."

He nodded around his breakfast preparations. "No problem, Miss Lane. I know this hasn't been easy for either of you."

"It hasn't been, but that's no excuse. And please, call me Lucy."

He gave her a mega-watt smile. "Then you have to call me Clark."

She smiled. "I think I can do that. Hey, can I help with that? There must be something I can handle without burning it."

Clark heard Lois chuckle but didn't look at her. "How about you set the table? I'm pretty sure the silverware isn't flammable."

"I'll do my best."

Lois sat at the dining room table. Lucy collected plates, napkins, silverware, and drinking glasses as Clark stirred the pancake batter and whipped the eggs. He'd noticed the bruised swelling on Lois' face but hadn't mentioned it, thinking that she wouldn't want to call attention to her injuries in front of Lucy.

Instead, he focused on cooking. A light brushing of butter on the already hot griddle followed by evenly sized and spaced discs of batter. Salt, pepper, a dash of paprika, a slight scattering of onion fragments and chopped-up bell pepper he'd found in the refrigerator's produce drawer, stirred in lightly with the whipped eggs and folded several times to distribute the heat evenly. Flip the pancakes, drop a small dollop of butter on each one while still hot, scoop the eggs into a bowl and carry them to the table, then return in time to lift the pancakes from the griddle onto another plate. Carry them to the table and place them in front of Lucy and Lois with a slight flourish and--

"Voila!" he purred. "The breakfast, she is most ready for the eating, ladies."

Lois softly smiled up at him. "There are three place settings, Clark. Sit, eat, and enjoy."

He leaned closer to her and murmured, "I'll eat if you will."

He held her gaze for a long moment, then she nodded and said, "Sounds like a plan to me."

As he sat, Lucy handed him a long-handled wooden spoon and gestured toward the eggs. "You cooked them, you taste them."

"Don't you trust me?"

"I don't know you well enough to trust you." Then her face and voice both softened. "But they smell heavenly, Clark, so this is a thank-you and not a poison test. Besides, Lois trusts you with her life and with her heart, so you can't be all bad."

He stifled the chuckle but not the smile. "I appreciate the ringing endorsement."

Her eyes turned impish. "Oh, no. Ringing endorsements will have to wait until after the rock skipping is complete."

The remark baffled him for a second, then he remembered his message from the day before. Instead of speaking, he took the spoon and scooped out a small portion of the eggs, then tasted them. Then, after chewing and swallowing, he frowned slightly, tilted his head back and forth, and ran his tongue around his mouth as if searching for something inside.

Finally, Lucy could take no more. "Well?" she blurted. "How are they?"

He looked at her with mild surprise as if he'd forgotten she was there. He swallowed again and grudgingly surrendered his opinion.

"Oh. Um -- they're good."

A snort to one side drew their attention. Lois sat back with her eyes closed, holding one hand over her mouth with the other wrapped around her shoulder, shaking. She shifted to one side as if about to leap out of her chair.

"Sis? Are you okay?"

Lois nodded sharply and snorted again. Lucy reached out and took her sister's free hand in hers. "Lois? I'm sorry."

Clark put his fork down. "I'm sorry too, Lois. If I'd thought--"

"Bwahahahahahaha!"

The explosion caught both of them by surprise. Lucy jumped back and knocked her orange juice off the table onto the floor. Clark scooted his chair back almost a foot and paused half-in, half-out of it. Lois responded by pounding her feet on the floor and laughing like a white-faced green-haired criminal. If Lucy hadn't slid her chair closer and grabbed her sister's shoulder, Lois might have fallen to the floor.

Clark relaxed as he watched the sisters laugh and hold on to each other to remain upright. By the time they'd wound down, he'd cleaned up Lucy's spilled juice, made a significant dent in his eggs, and shortened his stack of pancakes by half.

Lois wiped her eyes and shook her head. "You two have no idea how hysterical that was."

Clark smiled back. "It's good to hear you laugh. I just never knew you snorted like that."

Lucy snorted at his remark, and Lois echoed it, which set both of them off once again.

This time Lucy stopped first. "Feel better now, Sis?"

Lois nodded. "Yes. A little, anyway."

"That's good."

"You know, I lied to Lex."

The comment stunned both of the others. After a long moment, Lucy said, "Well, that was certainly a bullseye of a buzzkill."

"Sorry. But it's true. I needed to say it." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I just didn't know how much I needed to say it."

Then Lois began eating breakfast. Lucy and Clark exchanged puzzled looks, then Lucy shrugged, loaded up her own plate, and dug in.

As Lois wiped her mouth and stood to carry her dishes to the kitchen, Lucy took them from her. "I'll get that. You sit down and explain to Clark what you meant."

"What I meant about what?"

"About lying to Lex," came Lucy's voice from the kitchen. "I don't know what you were talking about, but if you needed to say it to us, you also need to explain it to us. So start talking."

Clark leaned closer to Lois. "Is she always this bossy?"

Lois shook her head. "Of course not. She's usually much worse."

"Heard that!"

Clark and Lois laughed softly, then Clark took her hand. "I do think she's right, though. You need to tell us what you meant about lying to Lex."

Lois curled her hand around Clark's and gripped tightly. It felt right, it felt good, and it felt natural to him. He wished he could hold her hand forever.

Then she spoke. "When the elevator door opened I smelled the cordite, then I smelled the blood. I found Lex in the library, bleeding to death on the floor. He -- he wouldn't let me take him to the hospital. He said even Superman couldn't -- couldn't help him."

She paused and sniffed once. "Carlin said that she'd shot him in the liver, and that there was no way to save him, none at all. Lex agreed with her. Then he told me he'd planned to propose to me and he wanted -- he wondered what I would have told him."

Her fingers tightened on his. He could tell that her powers weren't back yet, but since her grip was strong enough to injure a normal human, he was glad it was his hand in hers and not Lucy's.

She looked up at him as if pleading a case she knew she'd lose. "He was dying! What was I supposed to do? I couldn't tell him 'no' at that point! So I -- I told him that I would've said 'yes' and he smiled and he died and -- and then I almost killed Carlin."

Lucy moved behind her sister and wrapped her arms around Lois' shoulders. "You did good, Sis. You let him leave with a smile on his face and you didn't kill anyone."

Lois dropped her gaze. "You don't understand! I lied to him! If Carlin hadn't shot him I would've said 'no' and told him I loved someone else! And I would have killed Carlin if I'd had the chance! I told her that -- that she needed to make her last words good ones." Her eyes slammed shut again. "I was going to kill her! I really was!"

Lucy rocked her sister from side to side. "But you didn't kill her. And you know you could have. Lois, if you had really wanted Carlin dead, Mr. Asabi would have found her body in that apartment. He never would've needed to hit her at all. She brought all this on herself and you didn't do anything you shouldn't have done."

"But I--"

"Shhh, Sis, shhh. It's okay. You did good, honest. You didn't do anything wrong." Lucy's eyes sought and found Clark's. "Tell her, Clark. Tell her what you think. She knows you won't lie to her."

He slid his chair closer to Lois. "Lucy's right. Everything she said was right. You told Lex what you had to tell him to ease his passing, and that was a good thing. You could have broken Carlin's neck instead of Asabi doing it, but you didn't. I know that you would have taken her into custody if she'd given you the chance."

Lois' face slowly rose. "Do -- do you mean that? Really? You think -- you don't think I did wrong?"

He shook his head. "I can't see where you did anything wrong, Lois. If you had made a different choice, Carlin might be alive and in jail this morning. Or she might be out of the country by now and your dead body might have been found on that apartment floor. There's no way to know what might have happened. But I do know that you did nothing wrong."

Lois' mouth quivered and she leaned toward Clark. He caught her as she slipped from the chair to her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed. Her tears burst out once again and she all but melted against him, wailing in grief.

Lucy waved her hand until she caught his eye, then made gestures toward Lois' bedroom. Clark nodded shortly and watched her leave to make and then turn down Lois' bed.

He held her close and almost wept himself.

He wondered who she loved if she hadn't been in love with Lex Luthor. Who had she been thinking of when she'd decided she wouldn't marry him? Certainly not someone at work, or Clark would have picked up on it. Maybe it was someone from one of her therapy groups, the same ones Dr. Friskin had suggested to Clark. Maybe there was a man there who had captured Lois' heart, a man who was upright and honest and available, a man whom Lois respected enough to trust with her life.

The lucky stiff.

That had to be it. She'd met someone there who would walk through life beside her and treat her right. Of course, mistreating Ultra Woman was chancy at best and downright stupid at its worst, but her current situation confirmed to Clark that she was still just as human as anyone else on the planet.

Except for him, of course.

He waited until she'd wound down, then he reached down under her knees with one hand and lifted her up. She tightened her grip around his neck for an instant, then relaxed as he stood and carried her to her bed. He laid her down and tried to let go, but she grabbed both his hands and refused to release them.

"No!" she cried. "Please stay! Don't leave me!"

Lucy smiled at him and pulled the covers up to her sister's shoulders. "Clark's not going anywhere, Lois. He's going to stay right here until you go to sleep."

"That's right, Lois," he said. "I'll stay right here with you as long as you're awake."

"Right here?"

His heart almost broke for her. "Right here beside you."

"Promise?"

It was all he could do not to sweep her into his arms and tell her he loved her, but he knew he couldn't. "I promise. I'll be right here until you go to sleep."

Her voice softened and lost its frightened little girl tone. "Thank you, Clark. You're such a wonderful friend to me."

"And you're a good friend to me, Lois. Sleep now, okay?"

"No." She lurched up from the bed and grabbed his shoulders. "You have to know! You have to -- Lana."

The name stunned him for a moment, then he recovered. "What about Lana, Lois?"

"I -- I did it. I didn't do it like I thought I would, but I did it."

Lucy sat down on the other side of the bed. "Lois, what are you talking about?"

Lois took one hand off Clark's shoulder and grabbed Lucy's upper arm. "I made myself a promise that I'd find whoever killed Lana and make them pay. Carlin was the one running those guns, even if Nigel was making money from it. He probably stole from her like he stole from Lex. But Nigel St. John and Arianna Carlin are both dead now." She turned to Clark and tried to smile. "And Lana can rest easy. Her killer has met justice."

Clark couldn't move or speak for a moment, but that was all the time it took for Lucy to gently press Lois back down to the pillow. "Okay, Lois, Lana can rest easy. You did good. Now it's your turn. Lie down and go to sleep. Clark will stay here with you."

"Thank you, Punky." She took Clark's hands in hers again. "And thank you, Clark. You're the best friend anyone could ever have."

"You're welcome, Lois. Now go to sleep, okay?"

She nodded once, closed her eyes, and nestled her head into the pillow. He worked one hand loose from hers and softly stroked her hair. She sniffled a couple of times, then her breathing settled into an even rhythm. Her hands slowly released the one of his she still held, and her face lost its tension. He sensed Lucy leaving the room without a word or gesture to him.

After a few minutes, Clark slid his hand away and sat back. Lois didn't react, so he padded to the bedroom door and closed it behind him.

Lucy was at the table, working on another plate of food. "You know, Clark, this really is good. Next time I'll get seconds before I have to microwave it to reheat it."

He smiled. "Thanks. Will you two be okay now?"

She held up her hand in a 'wait' gesture and took a long swig of milk. "No."

"What? No?"

She paused and sighed. "Look, one of the reasons Lois passed out so easily just now is that neither of us got any real sleep last night. If nothing wakes her, she'll probably stay right there until her kidneys start screaming. And I don't plan to stay up and wait for that, so you're elected."

"I'm elected? Don't I get a vote?"

"Not if you care for her like I think you do, no."

He opened his mouth, the closed it and nodded once. "Busted."

Lucy scraped together the scrambled egg fragments from her plate and scooped them into her mouth. "Mmm! Really good eggs." She swallowed. "It wasn't hard to figure out. I was watching you in there with her. You might as well have it tattooed on your face. And you should hear the way she talks about you. When I said she trusts you with her life, that's exactly what I meant. I think she would've revealed that thing about Luthor last night if you'd been here."

"I was a little busy."

"Whoa! That was absolutely not an accusation, Kent! I'm sure whatever you were doing was something you had to do. All I'm saying is that you're important to her. Your good opinion of her is important to her. And your trust in her is important to her. I don't think you understand just how she feels about you."

He looked away. "I've always tried to be a good friend to her."

"And you've been a wonderful friend. But now it's time to step up and swing at the next pitch."

"Huh?"

"You need to tell her how you feel about her."

He frowned. "I know I'm repeating myself, but once again, huh?"

Instead of answering, Lucy just stared at him. "Clark, are you in love with -- oh, what's her name, the redhead? Rebecca! Are you in love with her?"

"What do you know about Rebecca?"

"Just what Lois has told me. Are you?"

He grinned ruefully. "No. She'd rather hang around with penguins than with me."

That stopped Lucy for a moment. "Wow. That's an insult I've never heard before. Talk about your slice-and-dice."

He chuckled. "Sorry. I meant that she'd rather study Antarctic wildlife than set up housekeeping with me. We broke up permanently. And it's something she and I both agreed on."

"Ah. Mind telling me when the two of you experienced this epiphany?"

"Yesterday afternoon." Clark's face darkened. "Probably about the time Lois was heading to Lex' apartment."

Lucy exhaled noisily. "And how long have you known how you felt about my sister?"

He blinked a couple of times. That wasn't something he wanted to confess to anyone. "I'd rather not discuss that."

"A couple of days? A few weeks? Several months?" He looked away and Lucy said, "I'm tired to the bone, Clark, but I'm not letting this go. How long?"

He grimaced. "I guess -- about six months."

A yawn split her face and she leaned forward. "And I'm guessing you didn't want to say anything to Lois because you didn't want to get between her and Luthor, and you stayed with Rebecca out of a sense of guilt or obligation of some kind."

One eyebrow quirked at her. "You're pretty good at this."

"I've had plenty of practice. So, when are you talking to Lois?"

"I'm not."

"Oh." She paused, then said, "Why not?"

"You heard what she said. Lois lied to Lex because she loves someone else. And I'm not about to get between her and whoever he is."

Lucy stared at him for a long moment, then said, "You know, I think it must be something in the water that makes people in Metropolis so stupid when it comes to personal relationships."

"Huh?"

"You're repeating yourself yet again. Isn't that redundantly redundant?"

"No. I mean, yes, it is, but what did you mean?"

Lucy grinned impishly again. "Nothing. I'm going to brush my teeth and hit the hay, and you'd better still be here when Lois wakes up."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"Oh, but I'm sure it is. Give me your word that you'll stay all day."

"Lucy--"

"Your word, Kent. Or I'll get Lois to call your parents for me and I'll tell them you left a friend in the lurch who really needed you."

Her words stopped him. He really hadn't considered the situation in that light, but he could see Lucy's point.

"That's blackmail, Lucy."

"You'll never get a conviction on that charge, copper."

He grinned and nodded. "You have my word. May I go out for a moment and pick up a few things for lunch and dinner first?"

She reached into her pocket and tossed a key ring at him. "Lock up when you leave and come back quick. If Lois wakes up and you aren't here, I'll never let you live it down. You understand, Kemosabe?"

"The Lone Ranger understands, Tonto. I will be here." He stood. "I may even get back before you go to sleep."

"In that case I'll wait up for you, Prince Charming. You know where Lois' Jeep is?"

"If it's in the usual place, yes."

"Good. Keep the receipts and I'll reimburse you. Now get going so I can get some sleep, okay?"

Lucy sure was bossy, he thought as he locked the door behind him. And she already had a dizzying array of nicknames for him.

He crushed the thought that one of them should be brother-in-law. It was too painful to contemplate something that could never be.

Chapter Eighteen

Lucy opened her eyes and looked at her bedroom window. The nearly horizontal sunbeams throwing shadows on the far wall told her that it was late afternoon, probably close to dinner time.

She tested the air for any scent of cooking but detected nothing. Maybe Clark had chickened out and left despite her threat to call his parents. Maybe he was waiting for the sisters to wake up and stumble into the front room before cooking dinner. Or perhaps Lois had awakened early and cajoled him into taking her out.

That would be fine with Lucy. Her sister sure had a soft spot for that Kent guy.

She quietly slipped into the hall and padded to the bathroom. Coming back, she noted that Clark, to her surprise, was sitting on the couch watching TV, but with the sound turned so low she couldn't hear it.

"Clark?" she called. "Is Lois up yet?"

He turned his head but didn't look directly at her. "Not yet. She was still asleep last time I peeked in about three hours ago. Are you going back to bed?"

Her hand muffled a yawn, then pulled itself through her hair. "No. I have a paper due at ten tomorrow morning, and I still have to review it for grammar and clarity. That was going to be today's project, so I'll have to finish it tonight."

"Are you hungry? I can make a quick but tasty dinner."

"Sure. Hey, you didn't happen to bring back any spaghetti, did you?"

"Yes, along with the makings for my mother's special sauce, a garlic loaf, iced tea, and parmesan cheese. And not the kind you shake out of a can, either."

She gave him a lopsided smile. "Sounds great. Give me about five minutes to make myself presentable and I'll come help you."

"If you want to. Or you could check on your sister. She may be ready to wake up now."

Lucy yawned again. "Yeah, you're probably right. You cook and I'll check on Lois."

***

Clark frowned at Lucy as she leaned back and patted her stomach. "Are you sure you woke her up?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Positive. She said she needed to finish a dream and turned over and started snoring very lightly. She'll be fine. Now quit being a worrywart and help me finish this bread. I think it's the best garlic bread I've ever tasted. You've got to teach me how to get this flavor without making it drip grease."

"Thank you." He glanced at his watch, then frowned. "But that will have to be some other time. I really need to get going. I have some errands of my own to take care of." He stood and gathered the empty dishes in his hands. "I'll leave the spaghetti and bread on the oven over burners set on low. If Lois doesn't want to eat, please make sure you turn them off so nothing catches fire."

She decided to poke him a little and see what leaked out. "Ooh, thanks, Clark. I never would have thought of that."

He smiled and frowned at her at the same time. "You and Lois are certainly sisters. That sounds like something she'd throw at me."

"Well, it's not like you didn't insult me just a little bit with that crack about the stove. I'm not completely helpless in the kitchen."

"I know. And I'm sorry. It's just--" He sighed. "I'm worried about her."

Lucy rose and followed him into the kitchen. "I am too, but probably for a different reason."

Clark put the dishes in the sink and said, "What reason might that be?"

She shook her head. "Uh-uh. If you two can't figure it out on your own, I'm not getting in the middle of it."

He shook his head and turned to rinse the dishes. "That makes no sense to me, but I suppose you know what you mean."

"I do. Now you go run your errands and let me finish the dishes. I do know where the dishwasher is."

Clark grinned and stepped away from the sink. "When I was growing up, my parents had a dishwasher, but its name was Clark and I had to scrub plates and silverware almost every night."

"Thank goodness for modern conveniences, huh?"

"Absolutely." He turned to leave the kitchen, then stopped. "Lucy? Thanks for letting me stay. I'm glad you and Lois got some rest."

She turned and smiled. "No, Clark, thank you. I'm very glad you were here. Lois trusts you, and you've more than validated that trust today." She tapped him on the outside of his shoulder with one balled fist. "Ya done good today, hombre."

"It's no less than she's done for me in the past."

"That's good to hear. I like two-way streets in relationships.

Reduces head-on collisions."

He gave her another mega-watt smile. She felt as if he were bathing her with gentle warmth and silken kindness. "Tell Lois I hope she feels better soon," he said.

"I will. Thanks again, for dinner and for staying today."

"You're welcome. Oh, I almost forgot. You have the makings for a great deli selection in the refrigerator. In case either of you gets hungry later."

"Great. I like a good self-serve deli, especially when I don't have to pay for it."

"I left the receipts in a bag taped to the meat tray. I expect your check to be in the mail this week."

"Rats. You're quicker than I thought you were."

She noted that his smile still worked even as he was walking out the door and glancing over his shoulder at her. The guy was really something.

Then he was gone and she felt a wave of sadness at his absence. If Lois doesn't want him, she thought, maybe he's available for another Lane sister.

She shook her head. They were both too hung up on each other for her to have any kind of chance with him. She had no shot and she knew it. It was just too bad for them that neither one seemed to see how the other really felt.

She pulled open the refrigerator door and gasped at the selection before her. If she'd known what was in there, maybe spaghetti wouldn't have been her first choice. She wouldn't go hungry while writing tonight. Or, she thought, for several days afterward.

Lucy licked her lips and refilled her tea glass. She didn't know why it tasted so good, she just wanted to sip it again and delight in the flavor. She figured it was some arcane Kansas brewing technique.

Just as she sat down on the couch and picked up the TV remote, she heard the other bedroom door open. "Hey, Luce," drawled Lois. "Did I hear Clark just a minute ago?"

"Yep. Sorry, but he just left. He did, however, make some of the best spaghetti, sauce and garlic bread this side of Italy."

"So -- he's gone?"

"Yes. He was here all day, Sis, and he said he had some errands to run."

"Terrific," Lois grumbled. "Just like Clark to not be here when I want him to be."

"The food he cooked is still here. It's still warming on the stove if you're hungry."

"Thanks," yawned Lois. "Not what I hoped to wake up to."

"Actually, it's warming on the stove whether you're hungry or not."

"Huh? Oh, right. Like 'Hi, I'm your waitress for tonight, and if you want anything my name's Gertrude.' 'Really? What's your name if we don't want anything?' Which declaration is usually followed by a blank stare or a puzzled frown or both."

Lucy stood and faced her sister. "Wow, you woke up verbose." She took a closer look at Lois' garments. "You also woke up R-rated. That top doesn't cover your boobs very well." She pointed at Lois' torso. "You look like an advertisement for an adult film. When did you get changed?"

"Had to go to the bathroom during the day and I just wanted to wear something else. Why?" Lois looked down at her low cleavage line. "Oh. Right. I guess it's a good thing Clark isn't here, then. He might have tripped over his gentle Kansas sensibilities."

Lucy walked around the couch and stood almost in Lois' face. "What's with you? This morning you threatened to soak my head if I wasn't nice to Clark, and now you're ripping holes in him. What's going on?"

Lois pulled her thin robe around her chest and sniffed. "Oh, I don't know! I just know that Clark isn't here and I really wish he'd stayed around."

"Well, he did spend over fourteen hours here today. I'm guessing he went grocery shopping for himself before it got too late."

"Yeah, you're probably right. And I know he was here all day. I just -- never mind." She turned back to her bedroom. "I'm going to get dressed and take a shower and then eat. I just realized how hungry I am."

"Okay, Sis. You know, I bet Clark would still be here if he thought you'd be expecting to see him when you woke up."

"He was here when you woke up, though, wasn't he?"

"Yes, and long enough to cook dinner and eat with me."

"Then that's okay. He finished his errand of mercy and now he's got other places to go, people to see, things to do."

Lucy reached out and stopped her with a touch. "Sis, you should talk to Clark. I mean, really, really talk to him. You might learn something."

Lois sighed deeply. "I don't think that's a good idea, Punky. Let's just leave it at that, okay?"

Lucy shrugged. "Okay, if that's how you really feel. That's your choice. But I think you should move to Florida."

"Do what?"

She reached up and patted Lois on top of her head. "Move to Florida, Sis. Where it's sunny and warm almost all the time. Maybe your brain will thaw out and start working again."

***

It was Friday already and Lois was mildly frustrated. Between the media attention and continued interviews with the police, she hadn't been able to do any serious reporting all week. And because of the continued public scrutiny, she wouldn't have been able to patrol as Ultra Woman even if she'd felt up to it. Her powers were coming back, but slowly, and she didn't want to risk a mistake that might cost someone's life.

She was glad that Superman was still available for rescues and other super needs. But because those duties took him away from her presence, her frustration combined with an ineffable sadness she couldn't quite explain to anyone. She understood, of course, that her heart missed his wonderful presence in her life, but there was no way she could tell anyone else that. Especially him. And even though she knew Clark would stand by her no matter what, she wasn't sure just how close to her he wanted to be. The pain from the breakup with Rebecca still showed on his face and in his voice on the few occasions when she did speak with him.

And Asabi's call that morning had added to her frustration. He'd all but demanded -- quite politely and gently, of course -- that she come to visit him at the LexCorp main office that afternoon after normal business hours. And he'd dodged every attempt she'd made to find out why he wanted to see her.

Resigned to her fate, Lois pushed into the main lobby and found a strange young woman sitting in the chair Rebecca had occupied for so long. "Hello," she said. "I'm Lois Lane. I have an appointment with Mr. Asabi."

The girl smiled almost vacantly back at her. "Oh, sure. He's expecting you. You know which elevator to take, ma'am?"

"Yes. I've been here before."

The girl nodded quickly. "Course you know! You need anything, Ms. Lane, you just call the switchboard and ask for Carly."

"Thank you, Carly." Lois looked around. "Um -- where's Rebecca Connors?"

"Becca? She turned in her notice this past Monday, soon as she came in that morning. The HR people told her to clear out her stuff and just go home, that they'd pay her for the two weeks and she didn't have to come back in unless she wanted to 'cept to turn in her security badge when she was ready." Carly shrugged. "She's gonna hang around penguins or something down around the South Pole for a while and work on finishing her doctor degree. Gonna miss that girl. She was lots of fun."

"I agree, she's lots of fun. Excuse me, but I need to go up now."

"Sure! I'll be here when you come back down."

"Oh, you don't have to wait for me, Carly."

"Actually, I do. You won't be able to get out 'less I let you out, so you take your time up there. I'm getting time-and-a-half for staying late, I got some magazines and a little TV and some snacks and a soda machine around the corner, so don't you worry about me. You just get your business done and don't rush on my account."

Lois smiled at her. "Thank you, Carly. That's very kind of you."

Carly tilted her head to one side. "I guess you missed the part about me getting time-and-a-half, huh?"

Lois laughed and strode to the elevator. She kept her smile all the way to the executive floor.

***

Asabi leaped up from Lex' desk as Lois walked in. "Miss Lane! I am so very glad you are here. Would you do me a great, great favor and close the door, please? There is something which I must discuss with you, something of massive importance."

"O-kay, shutting the door," Lois replied. "Now what's so massively important that you couldn't tell me about it over the phone?"

"Please, sit down. I trust you are well -- in all aspects of your life. Would you like a beverage, or perhaps a fresh pastry? I have discovered that I am permitted to ask the secretary for either of those items for myself or for a guest."

"Uh, no, nothing for me. And yes, I'm feeling more super, compared to how I felt a week ago, but I'm not quite back to what passes for normal with me."

"Good. That is, I am pleased to learn that you are progressing well in your recovery. And I thank you for coming to my – to this office after working hours on a Friday afternoon. The young lady secretary was very kind to stay with me, although she mentioned something about time-and-a-half." He sat down and spoke in a low voice. "Please forgive me if I ask an indelicate question, Miss Lane, but have you had an opportunity to – to deal with the events in Mr. Luthor's penthouse this past weekend?"

Lois frowned. "I sat down with my therapist and talked, if that's what you mean."

"Again, I have no wish to pry, nor to ask questions which you are not comfortable answering. But I hope that you have – not put it behind you, but allowed yourself to -- oh, what is the phrase?"

"Move forward?"

"Yes! That is it, exactly. Have you -- or, perhaps the better phrasing would be, are you allowing yourself to move forward?"

Lois sighed. "I will miss Lex a great deal, Asabi. His death has left a hole in my life. But I was not in love with him. I told him I would've married him, but that was just -- just to comfort a good man as he was dying. If Arianna hadn't shot him, my answer would have been a soft and gentle but definite 'no.'"

"I see. Thank you for sharing such personal information with me. I assure you that I will respect your privacy. No one will learn of this from me."

She smiled slightly. "If I thought you were going to spread it around, I wouldn't have said anything. You have more than earned my trust, my friend."

"Thank you." He rose and paced behind the desk. "I do not ask this out of morbid curiosity. I am truly interested in your well-being -- for the obvious personal reasons and for one – one which is more than personal."

Lois rose and caught him in mid-pace. "Asabi. Please. Sit down and relax. You're making me dizzy." He smiled slightly and complied. "Okay, now tell me whatever it is that is of 'massive importance' that you couldn't tell me on the phone and that couldn't wait for Monday morning."

He sighed. "You have not heard the terms of Mr. Luthor's will, have you?"

"No one has. The reading is scheduled for Tuesday morning. Why?"

He sighed again. "There are some -- rather surprising terms. Mr. Luthor's attorney contacted me, pursuant to those terms, two days ago. He explained that I was to be informed of certain -- aspects of the will prior to its being made public."

Lois frowned in thought. "Well, if you're trying to get me interested, you've succeeded. What terms are you talking about?"

"I must ask you not to reveal this information prematurely. It is has the potential to explode and I do not wish that."

"Potential to -- oh, you mean it's explosive? That it might cause trouble for some people?"

"Yes, of course, that is the phrase. Despite having lived in the country for many years, many American colloquialisms continue to evade my grasp. But that is neither here nor somewhere else."

Lois grinned. "Don't worry, I won't spill the beans."

He paused as if considering asking what she meant for a moment, then lifted his hands and gestured at the office. Lex' old office. "Part of the explosive thing which I must share with you is that I have inherited -- or, will inherit -- twenty percent of Mr. Luthor's estate, including the chairmanship of the Board of Directors of LexCorp Industries."

Lois blinked twice, then smiled a little. "That's wonderful, Asabi. I'm sure you'll do a terrific job, too. It couldn't happen to a nicer person."

"Actually, Miss Lane, it not only could happen to a nicer person, it has. Or, it will happen, once the will is read and executed."

"Oh, really? Who's the poor schlub who's -- wait, why are you looking at -- you can't mean that I -- don't stare at – will you please say something?"

He stood and bowed, seemingly as serious as a speeding ticket in a school zone. "Congratulations, Miss Lane."

As he straightened out of the bow, Lois caught the twinkle in his eye as she fell boneless against the side of the desk. "What -- you mean -- that sneaky -- he really -- but why--"

Asabi grabbed her hands and guided her back into one of the chairs. "You now -- or will, after Tuesday – control approximately forty-five percent of LexCorp Industries. The remaining thirty-five percent is to be ceded to various members of the Board of Directors, but with your forty-five percent combined with my twenty percent, you and I would have complete control over the whole of LexCorp. We can, therefore, guide the company into far greater profitability than before at the expense of our own consciences, sell it off piece by piece to other greedy capitalist bloodsuckers and destroy it while engorging our own wallets, or we can guide it into more honorable dealings with the city, the state, the many businesses which engage in commerce with it, and honor the many people who depend on this company to pay their bills and feed and clothe their families."

"But -- but I don't know anything about running a company like this! I couldn't make a profit with a hot dog stand! I don't know how!"

"You are a brilliant and dedicated woman. You have the capability of learning how."

"You're nuts! I'd run it into the ground inside a year!"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. I confess that this was a great shock to me as well. But I do not accept your assertion that you cannot be who Mr. Luthor believed you could become."

Her hands fluttered in front of her and she shook her head. "No way! I'll turn it down flat! I won't accept it!"

"That is your prerogative, of course. But I must inform you that if you decline this inheritance, control of the entire company reverts to the current Board of Directors. I would lose my share as well."

"What? That's not fair! They can't do that to you!"

"It was Mr. Luthor's wish, Miss Lane. The attorneys have no say in this matter."

Her mouth worked like a trout out of water for a few seconds, then her eyes cleared. "You're saying that either you and I both take over the company or we get nothing."

"Not exactly nothing. There would still be a monetary bequest for each of us, but one far smaller than the value of the respective shares in the company itself."

"But I can't turn down my -- what, forty percent?"

"Forty-five."

"Not without costing you your twenty?"

"That is correct."

"How long would I have to keep it before I can sell it to you? At low monthly installments?"

Asabi threw back his head and laughed. "You are indeed a formidable thinker, Miss Lane. The attorneys are fortunate that you have a journalism degree and not a license to practice law."

"Thank you. How long?"

"Forty-two months from the time you accept your bequest."

She shook her head and smiled. "That conniving, sneaky, underhanded rat! He knew I'd hate this. And he probably figured I'd have to accept it to keep you from losing your share." She stood and slowly ambled around the room. "And he knew that I knew about some of the board members being in Arianna's pocket, so this would give me an added incentive to clean up the company. Nice of him to give me three and a half years to do it."

"I agree with your analysis, Miss Lane. Oh, there is one more stipulation pertaining to you."

"What's that?"

"Should you marry while you are heading the company--"

"I know, I know," she grumbled. "I'll lose the whole kit and caboodle. I understand, Asabi. You don't have to tell me."

He frowned. "The whole kit of -- what?"

"It means I'd end up with nothing."

"Oh. Actually, the opposite is true. Should you choose to marry, there will be no changes in the terms of the bequest. In that, Mr. Luthor was quite specific. The attorneys wanted you to be fully cognizant of this aspect of the bequest also."

She stopped and stared at Asabi with liquid brown eyes. "Why -- that -- that -- wonderful, wonderful man. That was very kind of him." She dabbed at her eyes with her hands and walked toward the desk. "Of course, that's not likely to come up any time soon. Besides, I'd be too busy with the company to carry on any relationship with any guy."

"One never knows about such things, Miss Lane. At any rate, it is far too soon to make such a decision. And I do not wish for you to make any decision about the company while considering my circumstances. Please understand that I will accept any decision you make."

"Yeah, you old softie," she chuckled. "You just wanted to throw me off-kilter today."

"I did not wish for you to be caught with your blind side down."

This time she laughed aloud. "Oh, thank you, Asabi! Don't worry, I'll be very convincing when they 'surprise' me with my ownership of LexCorp on Tuesday. And I won't breathe a word of this to anyone before then."

"I never believed that you would. Now that we have dealt with our business, might I offer you a cup of coffee?"

She laughed again. "Sure. Let's see if Little Debbie Sunshine out there is really that eager to serve you."

"I am sorry. I thought the young lady's name was Vera."

***

The Tuesday evening edition of the *Daily Planet* listed Clark Kent's byline on the story of Luthor's bequest. Of course, every other media outlet in the city got the story on the same day since the will became public record once it was read to all the beneficiaries, but the *Daily Planet* was the only news organization with one-on-one interviews with both Asabi and Lois. And they were the only paper with a personal interview with Lex' attorney, who personally guaranteed that the will was both ironclad and unbreakable.

The chairman of the board of LexCorp, Paul Castle, was quoted in the *Metro Times* as insisting that "this will cannot and will not stand! No judge worth his gavel would allow it to remain as it is. The terms are unconscionable!" Ed Myerson of the *Planet*, however, interviewed New Troy's senior appellate court justice Benjamin Moskovich, who replied that although he hadn't officially reviewed the will, he had read it in the court record, and on first reading he saw no basis for disallowing its stock distribution provisions. The learned justice emphasized that his opinion was not a legally binding ruling. Justice Moskovich also declined to speculate on Lois Lane's suitability or capability to run such a far-reaching company as LexCorp.

The radio and TV talking heads repeated the same bits of information until even they were sick of hearing about it.

LexCorp's stock price experienced a nine percent overall decline the next trading day, but by the following Friday afternoon the stock had recovered more than half its losses and was trending upward again. The joint announcement from Lois and Asabi that they would continue the direction of the company Lex had set helped tremendously, and the announcement that Paul Castle would resign from the board rather than contest Asabi for the position bounced the futures price yet again. Castle's replacement as a board member was not immediately announced, but a number of names were floated over the weekend as possible "victims," as the *Gotham Post* characterized the position. That paper and a few other scandal rags predicted the financial demise of Luthor's various businesses within eight months.

Saturday morning, Lois Lane announced that she would regretfully step down from her position at the *Daily Planet* and temporarily assume the co-chairpersonship of the board with Asabi. The announcement assured everyone that business as usual would be conducted from that point on. The announcement also revealed that the corporation would begin a top-down review of all its operations, beginning with the Board of Directors and ending with the administrative and maintenance staff. Every person, every position would be put under the microscope, both to determine the position holder's fitness for that position and to determine if the position itself was necessary. The flurry of managerial resumes sent out via email and regular mail by the following Monday would have made Lex chuckle.

Perry White, editor of the *Daily Planet*, followed every peep in the news about his star reporter. He hadn't been surprised that she'd resigned, and he would have all but insisted she do so if she hadn't made the decision on her own. Now all she needed to do was take care of herself and learn how to do all that funky financial stuff the suits upstairs at the *Planet* took care of for him.

***

On Saturday afternoon, just after four thirty, Lois announced to Asabi that she needed a break for the rest of the weekend.

"I understand your frustration, Miss Lane, but we--"

"Asabi, I've told you a dozen times, I want you to call me Lois when we're in private! If you call me Miss Lane there had better be half a dozen reporters or stockholders around."

He smiled. "Of course, Lois. When would you like to return to this mountain of paperwork?"

She stood and threw up her hands. "How about the twelfth of never?"

He smiled wider and nodded. "I sympathize with your vexation, but perhaps a date somewhat closer to the present would be more appropriate."

"Yeah, well, okay. Is Monday morning at nine early enough?"

"As long as we are both on time, I believe it will suffice."

"Good. Because I'm going to visit some friends and decompress."

She snatched up her purse before he could respond and stalked out the office door. She passed Asabi's secretary Vera and nodded to the frazzled young woman without speaking.

She tapped her foot while waiting for the express elevator to the ground floor, knowing that it was one of the fastest in the city and had needed a special waiver from the city inspector to allow it to move so quickly. Her powers, which were close enough to a hundred percent restored so as to make no real difference, would have had her at her destination by the time the door opened. But she couldn't use them openly here any more than she could use them at the Planet.

Drat Clark and his power transfer!

She almost knocked the inner door open before Carly could push the exit button, and she barely restrained herself from punching through the outer door. But that wouldn't have relieved her irritation, and it would have surely revealed her powers to anyone standing too close. And if Ultra Woman was going to have any impact at all going forward, she still needed to safeguard her dual identity.

She hailed a cab and gave the Planet's address. As she did so, she realized that she could have called for a company car and driver to take her anywhere she wanted without paying for it. She sighed and told herself she'd do that next time.

She spun through the Planet's front door and sprinted up the stairs to the roof, then knelt down and took a deep breath. A quick look around assured her that no one was watching as she leaped into the air and spun into costume on the fly. It was a trick she'd practiced several times, but because it involved her being totally undressed for a few nanoseconds, she hadn't told Clark about it. That was something he didn't need to see. She didn't want him to hurt himself laughing.

Her flight took her halfway across the country to a small farm in central Kansas. As she descended near Clark's Fortress, she reversed her clothing change and landed wearing a sleeveless print shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. She looked up at the platform above her head and smiled, knowing that in a few moments she'd be sitting up there relaxing in the cool afternoon breeze.

The short walk took her to the Kent's back door, where she knocked four times. Martha's smile as she opened the door enveloped her with warmth and love, just as it always had.

"Lois, dear, come on in! Jonathan is still out fixing fences, so I do hope you'll stay long enough to let him hug you! He was telling me just yesterday how much he missed seeing you around. Here, sit down and let me get you a glass of tea. I just finished mixing it a little while ago."

"Thanks, Martha. I just wanted to let you know I was going to sit up in Clark's Fortress for a while. Ah, you have been keeping up with what's been going on in Metropolis, haven't you?"

Martha set two glasses down on the table and joined her guest. "Of course we have. I think it's wonderful that Mr. Luthor trusted you enough to allow you to take over his companies."

"Well, I didn't really take them over. In fact, I really should be working on more of those papers Asabi has for me." She took a long swig and sighed contentedly. "Ahhh, that's excellent. I just needed some time to sit and breathe and pretend I was just a regular person for a while."

Martha smiled and patted Lois' hand. "You know, Lois, I wondered why you'd leave your job so easily. You seemed to love it so."

"Oh, I do. But Perry and Asabi both pointed out to me that turning down this bequest would allow some of Arianna Carlin's associates to keep doing what they had been doing for years. Lex' companies should have been at least fifteen percent more profitable over the past four years, maybe more. There was no way Nigel St. John was skimming all that money by himself."

"I see. Is that the only reason, Lois?"

She sat back and closed her eyes. "It's the main one. But part of it is that Lex died way too early and didn't have a chance to train me to do this crazy job. Of course, I don't know what he might have done if I'd turned down his proposal like I planned."

Lois noticed Martha's eyes bulge out and she grinned. "I guess Clark didn't tell you that part of it."

Martha sat back and stared at her friend. "No, he didn't. He told us all about Mr. Luthor's murder and how you were almost arrested and how you were going to inherit all that money and stock in the company, but he never mentioned that."

"I see. Then he's not only a very good friend, he's a good and faithful friend. I wouldn't have minded if he'd told you and Jonathan, but I never gave him permission to, so he didn't. And I know that wasn't in any of the news coverage." She ducked her head and smiled again. "Clark is such a great guy."

Martha put her hand on Lois' shoulder. "You should tell him that."

Lois shook her head. "He doesn't need that complication in his life. He's just about over losing Lana but he can't be over losing Rebecca yet and he doesn't need a distracted girlfriend who doesn't even know her own heart." She took another long gulp of tea. "I know you have our best interests at heart, Martha, but I can't do that to him."

"That's very noble, Lois. I admire a woman with spunk and determination."

Lois frowned slightly. "If I didn't know better, I might think that was just a little bit sarcastic."

Martha stood and patted her arm. "Then it's a good thing you know better, isn't it?" She looked out the window. "It's coming on winter before too much longer and the sun will be down soon. You should take as much time as you need at the Fortress."

"Thank you for the tea." Lois stood and hugged the older woman. "I'll come back around dark and touch base with Jonathan."

Martha held the hug longer than Lois would have expected. "Oh, Lois, you know we all love you, don't you?"

"Well -- yes, of course I do."

"Good." Martha patted Lois' back, then released her. "Have a nice contemplation, dear."

Chapter Nineteen

Jonathan drove the four-wheeled all-terrain vehicle along the fence line, checking for any breaks or weak points he'd missed before. "This part of the fence look good to you, Clark?" he called behind him.

"It wouldn't hurt to replace the posts," Clark called back from his perch on the back of the ATV, "but I wouldn't do it unless you don't have anything else to do. They should last another year, at least."

Jonathan laughed. "There's no such thing as downtime on a farm, son. You know that."

"I do. And if you'll park the ATV, I'll put away the tools and spare supplies. I'm ready for some of Mom's apple pie."

"I'm glad you were here to help me. Would've taken me another three hours if I'd been out there alone the whole time."

"Many hands make light work," Clark quoted.

"And super hands make it even lighter."

They shared a chortle as Jonathan steered the ATV into the barn and switched off the motor. Clark jumped down from the back and unhooked the small trailer while his father drew the tarpaulin over the ATV, then both of them stowed the tools in their proper places. Jonathan clapped his hand on his son's shoulder and smiled. "Let's go get some of the best cooking in the state of Kansas."

"I'm ready for it," Clark grinned back.

As Jonathan opened the back door, he smiled at his wife. "Martha, look what the cat dragged in."

He stepped aside to reveal their son. Martha looked startled for a moment, then did something neither man expected.

She broke out in gales of uncontrolled laughter.

Father and son gazed at the unexpected apparition for several long moments before Jonathan leaned over to Clark and whispered, "Son, are my pants unzipped?"

"No. How about mine?"

"No."

"Then what's so funny?"

"She's your mother. You ask her."

"I'm not sure it's safe."

Martha apparently heard the last part of their exchange and clapped her hands twice, then walked over to Clark and put her hands on his shoulders. "You need -- ha-ha-ha -- you need to go and -- ho-ho-ho -- go sit in your Fortress -- he-he-he -- for two minutes -- ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

"Uh, Mom? Are you okay?"

Martha got herself under enough control to smile at her son. "I'd tell you why, but I promised I wouldn't. Besides, you're both too hard-headed!"

"Hey, wait a minute!" Jonathan protested. "What did I do?"

His wife stepped into his enveloping embrace and shook with laughter once again. "Nothing, dear, nothing at all! I wasn't talking about you!"

Jonathan and Clark exchanged a questioning look, but since neither of them had any answers for the other, Clark shrugged his shoulders and took a step toward the back door. "I assume that I will receive some kind of wisdom while I'm there?"

Martha jerked out of her husband's arms and pointed her right index finger at Clark's face. "Promise me you'll stay there for at least two minutes."

"Why two minutes?"

"I can't tell you! But you have to promise me!"

Clark appeared to think about it for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. A minimum of two whole minutes, not one second less."

"Good. Now go before you lose your light!"

"Mom, I can see in the dark like--"

"Go!"

Without another word -- but with concern for his mother's mental state scribbled all over his visage -- Clark spun and opened the door.

Martha pulled back the curtain and looked out the door. Jonathan bent down close to her and whispered, "Is he gone?"

Martha all but jumped up and down in place. "Yes. Yes! Oh, yes! And Jonathan, just you wait till he comes back!"

***

As he walked across the field to his Fortress of Solitude, Clark tried to figure out what his mother might have intended by extracting that promise. Was she making something special for him for dinner? No, she hadn't known he was on the farm today, and two minutes at the Fortress plus the time he spent walking in-between wasn't enough to whip up anything. Had she planned to surprise him with some present and had decided on the spur of the moment to give it to him today? Possibly, but he couldn't link the Fortress to anything she might have planned at the house.

He decided to climb the wooden ladder instead of floating up to the platform. Was there something hidden up there, something she planned to surprise him with? Also possible, but what could she hide up here that would be safe from animals and the weather that he--

"Clark?"

He froze in place, his head and shoulders barely above the level of the platform. He looked in the direction of the unexpected voice. "Lois?"

Together, they said, "What are you doing here?"

She laughed and waved at him to continue. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were in Smallville." She rolled to a crouch and made as if she were about to take off. "I'll get out of your way."

"No! I mean, that's not necessary. I'm just here because my mother told me to come here."

"What?" Lois frowned. "She let me come up here knowing you were home?"

"No. I mean, she didn't know I was here until I walked in the house with my dad. We were repairing fence line on the west side."

"Oh." Lois' frown faded. "I see. In that case, just let me get out of your way so you--"

"My mom made me come here."

"What?"

He finally pulled himself onto the platform and sat on a crate near the ladder. "She made me promise to come out here and spend a minimum of two minutes before I went back to the house."

Lois' frown returned. "What for?"

Clark shrugged. "She wouldn't tell me. All I do know is that she was laughing her head off when she did it."

A smile slowly replaced Lois' frown. "Oh, I see. I'm pretty sure she sent you out here so we could talk."

"Well, yeah, I guess so. Or we can sit up here and stare at each other for another ninety-six seconds."

She stood up and sighed. "Not that looking at you is all that stressful an activity for me, Clark, I doubt that's what she wanted us to do."

"I don't know what she expected, Lois. But since we're here, and since there's no one else around, I'm sure there's something you'd like to talk about."

"All right. What's the subject?"

"Um -- the weather? It's been a bit warm this fall, don't you think? Not too much, and not enough to hurt the harvest--"

She crossed her arms. "Not the weather, Clark."

He nodded. "Okay. How about, uh, how you and Asabi are getting along at the office?"

"We're getting along fine and that can't be it either."

He bit his lip and stood. "Fine. I think she wanted us to talk about our -- our shared losses."

Lois' arms dropped to her sides and she turned away from him. "That's -- I already have a therapist. But thanks."

He nodded again, then realized she couldn't see behind her head any more than he could. "I know. Maybe she wanted me to talk to you about that guy in your therapy group."

She turned halfway and gave him a stunned look. "Who?"

"That guy in your group."

"What guy in what group?"

"The guy you were talking about the other day."

She took a step toward him and gave him a puzzled frown. "What other day?"

"When you told Lucy and me that you -- that Lex wasn't the guy for you."

"He wasn't. But what does that have to do with my therapy group?"

Surely that relationship hadn't vanished already! "Oh, Lois, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"What didn't you know?"

"That you and the guy in your therapy group had broken up."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she snapped. "Will you please make some sense? What guy in what therapy group?"

He lifted his hands in confusion. "The guy you said you loved instead of Lex. I knew it wasn't anybody at work, so I figured it had to be someone I hadn't met. I'm sure he's a wonderful person or you wouldn't -- feel that way about him."

He took a step back because Lois was leaning closer and looking a little scary. Very slowly she enunciated, "Who told you I was in love with someone in a therapy group?"

"You did!"

"I never!"

"You did! You sat at your dining table and told me and Lucy that you lied to Lex about wanting to marry him because you were in love with someone else!"

"And you got 'therapy group guy' from that?" she snarled.

"Who else could it be?"

"It's you, you big lunkhead!"

Clark could almost feel his brain grind to a halt and his body lock up like the Tin Man before Dorothy squirted him with oil. This wasn't just the last thing he'd expected, it was the last thing on a list of infinite possibilities. Lois loved him? Could she have actually said that?

During the moment he stood rooted to the platform, Lois' face paled and she gasped. She turned and stumbled to the edge of the platform and jumped off, then rocketed almost straight up.

Clark knew that even if he could catch her, he couldn't force her to listen to anything he might say.

So he sent it.

-* Lois, please come back. *-

-* No! *-

-* Please? I have something very important to tell you. *-

-* Oh, Clark, I swore I'd never say that to you! I'm so sorry! I never wanted to put any pressure on you or try to force you into anything or complicate your life or get in your way and now I've gone and done exactly what I didn't want to do! Please forgive me! *-

-* There's nothing to forgive. Please come back. *-

-* No! You'll be reasonable and nice and forgiving and you'll tell me how much I mean to you as a friend and how much you value our teamwork both in the office and in the field and I don't think I could take that! *-

Amazing, he thought to himself. Even speaking mentally, she could put out the babble like no one else in the world. -* I promise you, Lois, that's not what I want to say. *-

-* Then just send it to me! Please, Clark, I'm mortified! *-

-* You shouldn't be. And I want to say this to your face. *-

-* No! My face couldn't take it either! *-

He sighed. -* Okay. Do you remember what Bob told us about the link? *-

-* He told us a lot of things and at the moment I'm not in the right frame of mind to list them in any kind of order. *-

-* He said we couldn't lie to each other over the link. Remember that part? *-

-* Of course I do. That's why I haven't been leaving it open because I was trying to avoid this whole conversation. *-

-* Then remember that now. *- He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then sent, -* I love you, Lois. *-

Nothing.

He could tell the link was open, but she wasn't sending to him. -* Lois? *-

He waited for a moment, then -- there! He felt something. He couldn't tell just what it was, but he knew he'd felt it.

He looked up into the sky and saw a tiny speck quickly grow into a woman's shape. A beautiful woman's shape, he thought.

A heartbeat later, Lois stood in front of him, breathing deeply, her clothes and hair and skin speckled with frost. She'd really gained some altitude in a hurry, he mused.

But it wasn't her strength or speed that came across to him at that moment.

Despite her strength, despite her speed, despite her other powers, she reminded him of a piece of ancient pottery he'd seen years before in a Middle Eastern museum. It was a carafe with a long fluted spout which had lost part of its handle. The display case was made of thick Plexiglas mounted on an earthquake-resistant base. The interior was a total vacuum to prevent the piece from shattering due to temperature changes or oxidation due to exposure to atmosphere. The room was darkened, and visitors had to wear infrared lenses to see the pottery so that the light wouldn't fade the markings on it. The guide told the visitors that it was the most fragile piece in the entire complex, and a person could damage it just by breathing on it.

Compared to Lois at that moment, that pottery shard would have appeared as permanent as a mountain and solid as a battleship.

She took a trembling step forward and lifted her hand. "You'd better not be kidding me, Kent, or I'll find a way to hurt you."

He stepped closer and touched her raised right hand with his left. With his other hand, he wiped away the melting fragments of tears from her cheeks. "I'm not kidding you, Lois. I love you."

He thought she was going to grab him around the neck, but she stopped herself. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Because you were dating another guy and I didn't want to break that up. You and Lex seemed to get along so well, it would have been -- I don't know, unethical or something for me to try to horn in on what you two had going for you."

She nodded. "How long have you felt this way about me?"

He frowned slightly. "What's with the third degree? Don't you believe me?"

Her voice wavered and cracked. "Please, Clark. I -- I need to know."

He nodded. "Okay. I guess, well, it must have been about the time you and he got back together after you had that big fight and he broke up with you. He was a total dummy about that, by the way."

One side of her mouth quirked as if she were holding back a smile. "That far back, huh? Even before the boat trip on the *Miss Emily*?"

"Yep."

She took a shallow breath. "Do you remember our last conversation up here, the one we had right here on this platform? Right after that terrible day with the home invaders?"

His voice softened. "I remember."

"I almost told you I loved you that day, Clark. I was leaning back in your arms and you felt so very good and so very natural and so very right that I almost told you then but I was afraid to because I didn't think you felt anything for me but friendship."

He laughed and shook his head. "I almost told you that day, too. I was close -- closer than we are now -- to saying those three wonderful words but I didn't. I was afraid of damaging our friendship too."

"Just -- I need to ask one more question."

He nodded. "Anything."

"Do you -- does this have anything to do with Lana?"

He blinked with surprise. "Lana? No. Of all the questions you might have asked me, that one wasn't on my radar."

"So you don't -- you aren't just making it easy for me to take care of you? Like Lana asked me to?"

He thought for a moment, then smiled. "You know, I'd completely forgotten you told me that. No, I'm not trying to make things 'easy' for you! Lana has nothing to do with--" He paused. "Please tell me that your feelings aren't tied up with Lana asking you to take care of me."

She almost smiled. "No. If all I was doing was taking care of you, I would have gone to Rebecca to try to fix whatever went wrong between you." The smile won out. "And I'm not about to do that."

He sighed with relief. "Good. I don't want you to do that. Not ever."

She laughed and sobbed and put her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him. "So where do we go from here? You're still working at the *Planet* and I'm a sudden multi-millionaire who can't remember that I don't have to call a cab."

"You don't what?"

"Never mind, I'll explain it later. But what do we do now?"

He squeezed her against his wide chest and chuckled. "I need to go back to the house."

She pulled her head back and looked up at him. "What?"

"My two minutes are up."

She loosened her grip. "Clark, I don't understand what you're saying."

"I need to go back to the house and have dinner with my folks." He bent down and kissed her on the forehead. "And I'd like for you to go back with me. I think my mother has some gloating to do."

She smiled and embraced him again. "Oh! I thought -- I don't know what I thought!" She laughed into his shirt. "I know your mother wants to gloat at me. She's been telling me to have this talk with you for months."

"Really? Well, your sister all but read me the riot act that Sunday I was there because I wouldn't talk to you."

She laughed. "How come they knew and we didn't?"

He shook his head and smiled. "Maybe because we're not as smart as they are?"

Lois laughed again, this time with Clark. She picked him up and swirled him around, then they both levitated and kissed.

It was a soft kiss but a long one. And it didn't end until Lois bumped her head on a tree limb.

They laughed together again. "Guess I still need a couple of flying lessons, huh?"

He shook his head. "I think you're just fine the way you are."

"Really?"

"Yes. Well, with one possible exception."

Her eyes sparkled, reflecting the sun hanging low in the western sky. "And what might that exception be, Mr. Kent?"

"Your marital status." He knelt in mid-air and took her hands in his. "Lois Lane, will you marry me?"

She floated down until her face was level with his. "Yes, Clark Kent, I will marry you."

"Ha!" he blurted out. "Thank you! I love you!"

He kissed her again, but this one was interrupted by their laughter. But neither one seemed to care.

"Oh, Clark! I feel so -- I can't tell you how I feel! It's like I was carrying a burden as big as the moon that I didn't know I had but now it's gone and I could fly to Jupiter and back without any extra air!"

"I know. I feel the same way." He guided them back to the platform. "You know, Rebecca's the one who broke up with me."

"Really? But why? I know how she felt about you."

He sighed. "We went to that new water park on the other side of Hobbs Bay a couple of weeks ago, and after she changed her clothes and dried her hair she came out of my bathroom and asked me to marry her."

Lois put the palms of her hands on Clark's chest and seemed to pull him to her. "What did you say?"

"I didn't shout for joy and yell 'Yes!' so she told me we shouldn't ever get married because I didn't love her enough and she really didn't love me enough either."

"And you left it at that?"

"I wrote her a letter telling her how sorry I was that it ended the way it did, and that I hoped she would be successful in the Antarctic. She wrote back--"

"Whoa." Lois waved one hand from side to side. "Wait a minute. Go back a little and explain that part about the Antarctic."

"Sorry, I forgot you might not know. She's joining an expedition near the South Pole to study penguins for at least a year, maybe longer. The work she'll do will count toward her doctorate, and the papers she'll publish will put her on the academic map."

"Of course. That's what Carly meant." Lois paused, then said, "I'm guessing she made these plans without consulting you. Am I right?"

He sighed. "You are. That was one of the things that convinced her that we shouldn't be together. She would always put her career first, and she knew I wanted a wife who would make me the most important person in her life. I think she's is a very nice person, but Rebecca Connors is always going to be the most important person in Rebecca Connors's life."

She kissed him gently. "I'm sorry, Clark. That had to hurt."

"No, not really. It was as much a relief as it was anything else. I just -- I never really wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. But I felt responsible for her getting shot and I wanted her to be as happy as I could make her."

She smiled. "You are such a Boy Scout. You know you won't be responsible for making me happy, don't you?"

That surprised him. "I won't? Are you sure about that?"

"I'm sure. I've learned that my happiness is my responsibility. But if we're going to be married--"

"And we are!"

"Glad to know you haven't changed your mind in the last three minutes. Anyway, when we're married, you'll be responsible for loving me and supporting me and being faithful to your family, but you can't be responsible for making me happy. That's my job and you can't do it, any more than I can make you happy."

He narrowed his eyes. "Not sure I grasp the concept."

She took two steps back. "Are you just the tiniest bit less happy than you were ten seconds ago? I am. But you can't spend every second of every day fulfilling every momentary whim or desire I might whip up. Even you have to sleep some time. And there will be times when your needs and desires will be more important than mine. On top of that, sometimes your duties will take you away from me, just like my duties will take me away from you. All you can do -- all you're supposed to do -- is make me the most important person in your life as long as we both live." She blew him a kiss. "If you do that, you'll never make me unhappy. I make that promise to you here and now."

He nodded slowly. "I think I see what you mean. I may have to have Dr. Friskin explain it to me again, though."

"I won't mind. She'll do a better job than I can anyway." She returned to her previous position inside his personal space. "Now, Mr. Kent, don't we have some parents to talk to?"

"Yours or mine?"

Her eyes bulged. "Oh, no! My parents! When will we tell them? What will we say?"

He grinned. "How about we tell them after we tell my parents?"

Her face relaxed. "I hope your dad is as enthusiastic about me as your mom will be."

He wrapped her in his arms again. "Don't worry. My dad thinks very highly of you nowadays."

"I hope he still thinks so highly of me when we tell him I want to marry his son."

"He will, Lois. I promise." He picked her up and held her close. "I'm still going to try to make your life as pleasant as I can, even if I can't make you happy."

She laughed. "Oh, Clark, you still don't understand. I can't make you responsible for my happiness, but I do expect you to try very hard." She kissed him again. "I know I'm going to try hard to make you happy."

He thought his smile might split his face. "Too late. You already have."

"Me too. You know, we will have to sit down and talk about our future before too much longer."

"That's true," he said. "What do you think will happen?"

"You mean after we talk?"

He brushed her cheek again with his thumb, then kissed it. "Yes. After that."

"It will take some time to work out the timing and logistics of a wedding," she said slowly, "but I think that I will give you my heart -- to keep -- forever and ever."

He moved back and took both of her hands in his. "That's a huge responsibility."

"I know. But I also know that you're up to it." She kissed his hands. "Just like I know that you love me."

-* I do love you, *- he sent.

-* And we will love each other for a long, long time. *-

He didn't have to answer. He knew she was right.

Epilogue

"Tango Whiskey Zulu seven-three-seven base calling Remote Two. Over."

Raoul picked up the mic in the snow tractor's cab, then winked playfully at his companion and titular boss. "Cut out the fancy radio chatter, Sergei! We're the only ones on this frequency and you know it."

"Base is merely observing proper communications protocol, Remote Two. Over."

"Sergei, would you think back over the eight months we've been on station here and tell me when was the last time you heard anyone else on this frequency?"

"Um... never, actually."

"So if you want to talk to me, just pick up the microphone and call me by name, okay?"

"As you wish, smart panties."

Rebecca's amused snort didn't deflect Raoul's attention from their verbal sparring. "The term is 'smarty pants' and I'm not one. And just so you'll quit mangling your English, Rebecca and I are about a mile or so from base. How's the weather in your neck of the woods?"

"There are no woods in Antarctica, oh great white wizard Gandalf."

"Sergei, I've told you a hundred times not--"

"My sincere apologies, my dangerous friend Raoul. Be that as it may, there are still no woods on this entire continent."

"Fine! How's the weather in your neck of the ice shelf?"

"It is cold."

Raoul rolled his eyes and sighed. Before he could compose a scathing retort, Rebecca reached for the microphone and took it. "Sergei, this is Dr. Connors. Please give us a report on the current meteorological conditions at your location and the immediate forecast. And use the units you'd use if you were a meteorologist in Kansas."

Sergei's voice turned more formal. "Of course, Dr. Connors. The current temperature here is twenty-seven degrees Fahrenheit and trending downward to a predicted low of eleven degrees below zero by local midnight. The wind is fairly steady at an average of thirty-two miles per hour with occasional gusts reaching fifty-one miles per hour. Sundown is scheduled for nine seventeen this evening, which is one hour and thirty-one minutes from now. Be advised that there is a severe storm predicted to begin tonight and which is forecast to persist well into tomorrow. Details are posted on the whiteboard in the common area."

"Thank you, Sergei." She released the mic button, again grateful that the man didn't care that she hadn't quite received her official doctorate yet. "What's our ETA, Raoul?"

He glanced at the instruments and peered ahead into the white gloom. "Assuming we don't find any new cracks or holes in the ice, we should be back in the relative warmth of the shelter in ten minutes or so."

"Good." She thumbed the mic again. "Remote Two on course, estimated arrival at the shelter garage in no more than ten minutes."

"We copy your message, Remote Two. The hearth fire is lit and the brandy is exhaling on the mantle."

Raoul shook his head and took back the mic. "The brandy is breathing, Sergei, not exhaling, and I'm not even sure it should be doing that."

"Then I will perform mouth-to-glass resuscitation on it as soon as I complete this pointless and time-consuming radio call."

Raoul and Rebecca shared a laugh as he keyed the mic again. "I'll let you go -- wait, did the supply chopper make it in today?"

"Yes," Sergei replied. "They have restocked our larder and provided fresh cleaning supplies, toothpaste, a number of new toothbrushes, a container of movies to replace the ones they took back with them, a few specialty food items, and a case of Raoul's favorite bath soap. And before you ask, I will also tell you that they sent us reading material in the form of news and sports magazines, a number of professional journals for those few among us who can comprehend words of more than three syllables, and an outsized bound stack of newspapers."

Rebecca took the mic again. "Sergei? Can you tell what newspapers are in the stack?"

"I will look." For several long moments, the only sounds came from the whine of the wind, the rumble of the tracks against the ice, and Raoul shifting gears once to traverse a small ice ridge. Then Sergei's voice returned. "It appears that most of them are issues of the *Daily Planet*, of Metropolis, New Troy. Mixed in with those are a few from the *London Times*, the *Chicago Tribune*, and at least one from the *New Orleans Daily Picayune*, of all places."

"Thanks, Sergei. Just to whet my appetite, what's the lead story on the top paper in the stack?"

Another moment passed. "According to the *Daily Planet*, dated nine days ago, it appears that a Mr. Clark Kent and a Ms. Lois Lane have married. Without reading the accompanying article, I cannot tell you why this event merits being on the front page of the newspaper."

Rebecca and Raoul exchanged knowing looks. He took the microphone from her slack hand. "Roger, base. Remote Two out."

He hung up the mic and drove in silence for a moment. "Becca?" he finally ventured. "Are you okay with this?"

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes. At least, I think I am."

He waited another few moments. "Any regrets?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. A few, I guess."

"Then again, too few to mention, right?"

She turned sad but dry eyes to him. "Do you want me to break into Sinatra's 'My Way' right here in the tractor?"

Raoul chuckled. "No, let's save it for karaoke night. I just wanted to know if this was going to make you miss the Monopoly tournament tonight. The Dangerous Boys -- that's me and Harry Potter, aka Philip Knowles -- are going to kick yours and Laurie's butts all over the board."

"The Dangerous Boys against the Dangerous Girls. It'll be an epic struggle."

"An epic massacre, more likely."

She lifted an eyebrow at him. "Them's fightin' words, hombre."

"Yes, ma'am," he drawled. "But I ain't no pilgrim, see? I can handle a shootin' iron or a Community Chest card with anyone on this continent."

Rebecca snorted a laugh. "I hope the supply chopper brought some movies that aren't bad Westerns. We could all use a dash of Marx Brothers or even some sloppy romance."

"Speak for yourself, little lady. I always get a kick out o' the hero savin' the girl and kissin' his horse just before galloping off into the sunset at the end."

"At the end or on the end?"

"As long as it's a horse, who cares?"

She shook her head in mock exasperation. "Even after all these years, I still don't understand you sometimes."

"It's a guy thing, Becca. You're not supposed to understand." The tractor slewed to the left around a huge ice boulder. "There's the shelter. Ah, home sweet home."

She sighed. "About time. I'm getting hungry."

"Well, that's a good sign. They tell me that women who pine over lost loves don't eat very well."

She slapped him on the arm, an assault made completely ineffective by the amount of insulated clothing both were wearing. "Smart panties."

He gave her a mock glare. "Oh, no, don't do that! Sometimes I think Sergei mangles his English on purpose just to hear you quote it back to him."

"Maybe he does. But I'm still hungry."

Raoul maneuvered the tractor past the enclosed snow shed and into the garage and honked the horn. A face appeared in the window at the far end of the structure and waved, then the overhead lights came on and the outside door began sliding down. Rebecca picked up her data storage module and unlocked the cabin door as Raoul shut down the tractor's motor.

Laurie Culpepper, the expedition's mechanical genius, leaned her head into the garage. "Hey, guys, how'd she run?"

Rebecca jumped to the metal garage floor with practiced ease. "Pretty well. The transmission seemed fine when I drove it, and Raoul didn't complain. But now there's a funny noise in the right track, a loose link, I think. You can take a look at it first thing tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" queried Laurie. "Why not tonight?"

Raoul stepped out, secured the cab door, and leaped down behind Rebecca. "Because you'll miss the Monopoly tournament, that's why."

Rebecca added, "And because Sergei says there's a storm coming in tonight. We're probably going to be socked in for a couple of days, so unless the storm breaks early we're going to spend the time analyzing the new data we've collected and reading the material the chopper brought in. There's not that much more for eight people to do when we're weather-locked into a shelter not that far north of absolute South."

"The rest of them can always watch the women clobber the men at Monopoly," responded Laurie. "That should me leave plenty of time to figure out what this thumb-fingered monkey broke on my tractor."

"The problem with the track isn't too serious, Laurie. It probably won't take you an hour to fix it, even if you have to change out one of the links."

"I'm glad you have such a high opinion of my skill level, Raoul." Laurie put a gloved hand on the offending track as if reassuring the vehicle that she wasn't angry with it. "I don't suppose you can tell me which link it is, can you?"

Raoul lifted his head in mock aggravation. "Do I have to do all your work for you? All I can tell is that it's on the right-hand track and that it only happened when half of the track was on the ground."

"Which half?"

"The half with the bad link, of course."

Laurie crossed her arms and leaned against the tractor. "Boy, I'm sure glad I didn't take the offer to maintain boats and scuba gear for that expedition off the Bahamas. I'm sure I would've gotten bored with all that sun and warmth and intelligent conversation."

"Like you'd know an intelligent conversation if it licked you on the nose."

"I know what dumb sounds like. You're so apt in demonstrating it."

Rebecca left them tossing friendly barbs at each other and headed to her quarters. After she changed into lighter clothing and took care of the physical necessities, she went to the common room and found the bound stack of newspapers untouched.

Her knife made quick work of the cords securing the papers and she picked up the issue on top. The photo on the front page showed a very handsome Clark Kent in a very modern tuxedo and a beautiful Lois Lane in a white wedding dress smiling at each other as they left a church building. The photo included a number of other people in the background. Rebecca picked out Jimmy Olsen, himself quite elegant in a tux, standing beside a short, attractive black woman with a narrow waist and shoulders like a linebacker. She thought she recognized Lois' sister Lucy dressed as the maid of honor, too. And she spotted Clark's parents at the top of the steps to the church, arm in arm and glowing with two of the brightest smiles in the shot. She could only assume that the older couple stepping down in front of them were Lois' parents.

She didn't recognize the rest of the faces in the picture, guessing that they were probably there for social or professional reasons. She mused that the value of their combined wardrobe might have funded her current expedition for half a year. But there was no reason to complain. Digger Enterprises, the company started by the late Lana Lang-Kent to funnel money to scientific endeavors, was footing half the bill for their twelve-month sojourn at the bottom of the world. Clark didn't know that she knew he was the one who'd made the decision to release the funds, and she renewed her decision not to tell him. She didn't want him to think that she believed that he would be playing favorites.

She lifted the paper again and looked closer. They look great, she thought. And they look like they're really in love.

Rebecca thought about Raoul's question. Did she have any regrets? Did she believe that not marrying Clark was a huge mistake? She could have been Superman's wife, yet she'd walked away from that opportunity to finish her doctorate and kick-start what she believed would be a brilliant career as a world-renowned marine biologist.

She thought about it for several moments, then decided about her regrets. She regretted leading Clark on. She regretted not breaking off the relationship sooner. She regretted hanging on to the fantasy of having Superman at her beck and call.

And she regretted being so committed to her career that she didn't think she had the time to marry any man for love.

She sighed and folded the paper under her arm, then set off for her quarters to hide it under her pillow. They wouldn't miss one newspaper when there were dozens more to read. And she'd bring it back tomorrow. Raoul -- also known as Gandalf of the Dangerous Boys -- would understand. Philip -- also known as Harry Potter -- had some idea of her relationship with Clark, and Raoul would further explain it to him if necessary.

And how did she feel about Lois, the woman who'd married the super man Rebecca had given up?

After a long moment of contemplation, she decided that she was happy for Lois. After Mr. Luthor was killed by his ex-wife – the woman who'd sent the man who'd almost killed them on that boat -- Rebecca had been afraid that Lois would blame herself. But she hadn't, or at least she had come to terms with her part in his death. And now, it seemed, she'd finally found real love.

Rebecca began composing her congratulatory letter in her head. She'd apologize for not writing sooner and hope they understood that Antarctica didn't have any good gossip periodicals. She'd tell them both how happy she was for them, how much she hoped that they'd have a good life together, and how she hoped that she could meet their kids someday. She didn't have to tell them that she owed her life to them. They knew it, but they never acted as if it was important or that she owed them anything.

Of course, she did owe them, and it was very important to her. It was just as important to her as her continued friendship with each of them, even more important than Clark's financial support of the expedition, and by extension, her continued professional success.

She looked as deeply into her heart as she dared and decided that yes, she really was glad that Clark and Lois were husband and wife. They truly deserved each other. They had overcome shared tragedies and heartaches to become fast friends, and now they had extended their love beyond that point. And she knew she could never have been the wife Clark deserved. She was too wedded to her career. It was fitting that he marry Lois, in more ways than one.

She sighed as she closed the door to her quarters. If she didn't make it to dinner, Raoul would make some excuse for her. Tonight she wanted -- no, she needed -- to spend some time alone. And some of that time would be spent reading about the very newsworthy wedding of Clark Kent and Lois Lane.

The sense of loss she'd felt when she'd walked out of Clark's apartment for the last time came back, but not as powerfully as she'd expected. Maybe she really did believe what she was telling herself.

Even if she didn't truly believe it, she knew that she wished only happiness for Clark Kent and Lois Lane-Kent. The author of the piece obviously didn't know about Clark's comparatively modest wealth, but he'd nailed Lois' economic status. She and Mr. Asabi were the joint heirs of Mr. Luthor's wealth, and they were busily cleaning up the Luthor empire. Apparently that task was what had delayed the couple's wedding for over half a year, else they would have married about the time Rebecca had left for Antarctica.

A sudden tear surprised her. It wasn't envy, she decided as she wiped it away, nor was it sadness for her own loss. It was a tear of melancholy happiness for two of her best friends, for the joy that they felt that she might never experience.

Then again, neither of them could cajole a male emperor penguin to let them examine the egg his mate had entrusted to his care. And she was sure neither of them had watched a solitary penguin outwit a hungry leopard seal. She had done both of those things a number of times, had indeed done many more such things, and the thought gave her a warm sense of accomplishment.

The strains of Bonnie Raitt's *Greatest Hits* wafted along the corridor. She wondered if Raoul knew the association she'd make with a couple of those songs, then decided that it didn't matter. Her life was fine, Clark's life was wonderful, and Lois' life was fantastic. Life in general was as it should be.

Hunger made its existence known to her once again and begged to be taken seriously. She folded the paper and slid it under her pillow. The she stood and stretched. It was almost time for supper, and she hoped that Laurie wasn't cooking again. As brilliant as she was with machinery, she was equally inept in food preparation. Philip was by far the best cook in the outfit, although Rebecca herself was no slouch.

But it didn't matter. Tonight, Rebecca would eat whatever was placed before her. And she'd enjoy the time with her friends and coworkers, do her best to clean the boys' clocks in the Monopoly tournament, and then go to bed and sleep the sleep of the exhausted. Tomorrow -- well, tomorrow she'd go back to work.

It was a good life, one that was all hers. And it would be

enough.

THE END

"I Can't Make You Love Me" (c) 1991 by Mike Reid and Allan Shamblin -- recorded by Bonnie Raitt on the album *Luck of the Draw*

See it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nW9Cu6GYqxo

The following story –

“The Keys to Clark Kent”

by – Mouserocks

was Nominated in the:

Best Revelation Story

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

The Keys to Clark Kent

By Mouserocks <mouserocksnerd@gmail.com>

Rated: PG

Submitted: November 2013

Summary: Clark finds out the hard way why driving Lois around when she's hot on the scent of a story isn't always the best idea.

A/N: Clark finds out the hard way why driving Lois around when she's hot on the scent of a story isn't always the best idea. In response to HappyGirl's First Line Challenge, in which a story begins with the line as seen below.

***

"You take the keys."

Clark seemed stunned as he caught the keys flying towards him. "Uh, Lois?"

"What?" she snapped as she flung open the passenger door and ducked into her newly-designated seat.

"Hi?" he hinted as he slid slowly behind the wheel.

Lois rolled her eyes at his constant need for proper etiquette. "Hi, how are you, let's get going. Now can you drive?"

Clark frowned and closed the door behind him. "O-kay," he dragged the two syllables out, trying to read his partner as best he could while turning the key in the ignition. "So what's really going on?"

She shot him an innocent look. "Whatever do you mean, Clark?"

He laughed slightly as he began to pull out into traffic. "Lois, I know you. We've been partners for nearly a year now. You call me up at eleven o'clock at night, say you might have found something big and to wait on the curb outside my apartment for you. Now you get here and you pretend like nothing's wrong? What is it? What did you find?"

He watched out of the corner of his eye as she shifted slightly in her seat. "Found might not be the most accurate term..."

Clark's brow immediately furrowed as he considered her highly suspect words. "Lois. What did you do?"

"Don't you trust me, Clark?" she asked in a faux-sweet tone of voice, batting her lashes once, twice, three times at him.

He leveled her with a dubious stare.

"Clark!"

He chuckled to himself slightly and turned his attention fully back on the road ahead. "I'm kidding. Of course I trust you. We're partners remember?"

"Right. Partners. Good." Lois nodded, putting a piece of hair back in place behind her ear. "We're partners. And that means we're in this together. No matter what. Till the wheels fall off. You're the only person I can imagine telling this to anyway."

A spike of concern went through him. "What kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time?"

She grinned broadly at him. "Us, Clark."

He scowled, letting her know how he felt about the terms of their suddenly equal partnership. "Fine. What kind of trouble did you get *us* into then, Lois?"

"Okay, don't be mad at me for this."

Clark couldn't help but roll his eyes. This was sure to be nothing but bad news, then. Normally, she didn't really care whether or not she made him mad. In fact, sometimes Clark got the distinct impression that she actually enjoyed getting a rise out of him. "I could never be mad at you, Lois."

She sat in silence for a few moments, staring out the window head of her as Clark aimlessly drove in what seemed to be the direction of the Daily Planet. Maybe she shouldn't have done it -- but it was newsworthy! More than newsworthy -- though she knew she could never print it. But curiosity would not let her rest until she had her answers. Her mind started arguing with herself over the ethics of it all, and Lois was suddenly quite glad she had come to Clark with her problem. He would definitely know what to do. He always did. She just didn't listen all the time.

Somewhere in the distance, Clark heard alarm bells going off, somewhere in the vicinity of S.T.A.R. Labs. It didn't sound like anything dangerous had happened, but just to be safe, he would try to speed things up with Lois. He cleared his throat pointedly. "You know, as much as I appreciate your company, Lois, I am rather tired. If you don't have anything to--"

"No! I do. It's just... I'm working on how to phrase it." Lois took a deep breath before turning in her seatbelt to face her partner more fully.

"Okay. So, first of all, this is strictly off the record, Clark, understand? Anything I tell you right now is not going to be printed, ever."

He chuckled nervously, wondering where she was going with this. "Lois, you're making me nervous."

"No, don't be nervous. It's nothing bad. Okay, well it's kind of bad, but only for like one person. Anyway, my curiosity just wouldn't rest so... I did something. Something... questionable."

Okay, now he knew something was definitely up. Lois Lane, admit to doing something questionable? "What?"

She inhaled deeply before spewing all her words out at once. "Ibrokeintostarlabs."

Clark blinked, trying to process the information. "Come again?"

Lois huffed irritably. "I broke into S.T.A.R. Labs, okay? Look, after the whole thing with Trask when he attacked you and your family, I got worried. And when you told me about what he thought about that... that Kryptonite, I had to find out for myself. So, I did some research for a while, secretly looked up who might have access to some, spent the last two weeks learning the ins and outs of the building and getting familiar with the people there. And about a half hour ago, I broke in and took some. Look -- this has got to be it! It is real!"

Without pretence, she fished a small silver box out of her bag and easily popped the latch on the side of it, swinging the lid open with an almost practiced ease.

Clark felt the familiar feeling of pain wash over him suddenly, and with a grunt he found himself losing control of his actions. The Jeep started to swerve as Clark listed to the left and struggled to keep his eyes open. Lois' scream sounded somewhat dull to his ears, and he managed to try to hit the brakes. The effect slowed the car down a little from its forty mile per hour cruise, but ultimately crashed into a fire hydrant on the sidewalk across the three lanes.

"Clark!!" Lois' voice was practically raw from screaming with fear and she had dropped the lead box holding the Kryptonite in favor of gripping the armrests for her life. She had no idea what had just come over her partner, but it was officially the scariest thing she had ever witnessed in her life, and she'd seen some pretty rough stuff. When the car crashed into the hydrant and water started gushing out of it, Lois finally came to her senses. Quickly, she undid her seatbelt and scrambled over the console to reach her partner. "Clark," she repeated his name, working herself into a panic as she grabbed him by the chin and tried to get him to look at her. "Clark! Say something! Come on!" She smacked his cheek a few times lightly as he groaned.

"Lo... the... box..."

He couldn't seem to form any more words, and somehow, Lois was losing him. Panic ran through her blood, seeping into her actions and mannerisms. The box? The one with the Kryptonite in it? Suddenly, she was in action, looking for the box and where it had fallen. Her hands got a hold of cold metal and she pulled them back in victory. "A-ha! Okay, I got the box. Clark?" she turned to look back at him and alarmingly found his form even more hunched and his head lolled off to the side slightly.

She peered at the box in her hand and gasped. "The Kryptonite!" Lois yanked on the lever that pulled her chair back and started searching, dragging her fingers along the carpeted surface of the floor until she found the small green rock. Eventually, after a few moments which to Lois felt like an eternity, her questing fingers found their purchase. "Yes!" She pulled the chunk of rock out with a victorious smile and turned to look back at her partner.

Her face fell quickly at the sight of his ashen features. "Clark!!"

He couldn't even manage a groan in response. Lois gaped at him. She couldn't figure out what just happened to him, why he had passed out so suddenly. It was like he'd had some kind of seizure or reaction--

Then it hit her. "Clark?!" Remembering herself, Lois quickly sheathed the poisonous crystal in its lead casing again, sealing it shut and locking it. She shoved the box deep in her purse and turned to face the man she thought she knew once again. "Clark? Come on, Clark. Wake up. I need you to be okay. Clark?"

Lois felt tears streaming down her cheeks and she heard sirens approaching in the distance. Quickly she swung out her door and stumbled over to Clark's side of the car, not caring that her clothes were quickly becoming soaked from the stupid fire hydrant. She flung open his door and reached over him to unbuckle his seatbelt. "Clark," she murmured grabbing his face with both hands and looking intensely at his closed eyes. Those eyes that she'd give anything to see one more time. She needed to see for herself, to prove for herself that what she thought was true.

Though, she supposed, you didn't get much better confirmation of Superman than if he passes out when exposed to Kryptonite.

Surprisingly, Lois found herself not really caring about what happened to Superman, the hero. All that mattered was that Clark Kent, her best friend and partner was going to be okay. Maybe it was just selfish on her part, but Superman could come second to that.

Superman. Her best friend, her partner, the man she'd spent the past year working with and more often than not making fun of was Metropolis' resident superhero. If that didn't blow her mind, she didn't know what would.

She snapped herself out of it and bent closer to focus on Clark. There didn't appear to be any noticeable bleeding -- of course there wasn't, though. Superman didn't bleed. Then again, she distinctly recalled Clark getting a paper cut on his finger a month ago in Smallville, so evidently he could bleed. She didn't know which outcome she preferred. "Come on, Clark. You've gotta come back to me. The world needs you. I... I need you. Please."

He needed to wake up. The sirens were getting closer, and as good a secret-keeper as she thought she was, Lois knew that if asked, she couldn't come up with an excuse good enough for this. She'd end up babbling and then probably crying, with the eventual spilling of the guts. She needed Clark to be the one making the excuses. That was his field of expertise... although come to think of it, now everything sounded thin and hollow to her ears. Cheese of the Month Club? When he came out of this, they were definitely going to have to work out a few of the kinks.

Her attention was dragged back to Clark when he started coughing and groaning. Her heart fluttered with relief. "Clark?"

He answered on a groan, croaking out her name roughly, still not opening his eyes. He shifted slightly in his seat, obviously in pain.

"Thank goodness," Lois breathed on a sigh, stroking his cheek gently, trying to keep him awake. "I can't be responsible for a double manslaughter charge."

At that, Clark's eyes fluttered open and slightly dulled, frightened brown eyes stared back at her from under the frames of his glasses. She tried to smile at him, but it came out more as a grimace, she knew. Lois swallowed thickly, trying to think of a way to reassure him. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

His eyes drifted shut once more, too drained to make any sort of comment to her. Just then, the police pulled up, followed closely by an ambulance. Lois was surprised they had been able to show up so fast -- there weren't many people on the street to report the accident and it was rather late. Then again, Clark didn't live in the best of neighborhoods, so she supposed it was likely they were somewhere nearby.

"Is everything all right here?" an older officer approached her and saw that Clark was practically passed out in the driver's seat and signaled for the EMT to get over there. "What happened?"

Lois' mind ran a mile a minute, trying to come up with something plausible as she stammered out an excuse. "He... he just... I don't know quite what happened. One minute he was fine and then the next thing I know he's having a seizure or something and passed out and then the car crashes, and I don't know what to do!"

"Ma'am, was there any drinking involved tonight?"

"No!" she protested firmly. "We were on our way to work. We had an idea about... this story we're working on, maybe a breakthrough, and I drove by to pick him up--"

"This is your car?"

"Well, yeah," she conceded, watching as the EMTs carefully moved Clark onto a gurney and checked his vitals. "I told him to drive because I wanted to focus on telling him... my breakthrough on the story." A wave of guilt washed over Lois suddenly. She was responsible for all of this. If only she hadn't done what she always did and checked the water level before jumping in head first...

"I'm sorry. Where do you work?"

The officer's words drew her attention back out of her introspection. He sounded slightly skeptical of her story. "The *Daily Planet*. I'm Lois Lane, he's--"

"You mean you're Lane and Kent?" He spoke with obvious awe in his tone.

This would be too easy, Lois suddenly realized. They had a fan -- not something too common within the police force. Reporters and cops didn't exactly always get along too well. "The hottest team in town."

"I read your article on a drug ring you guys busted a few months ago. It was quite impressive."

She smiled falsely and brushed at his arm. "Oh, it was nothing, really."

The officer suddenly seemed to remember himself and turned back to his paperwork. "So... Mr. Kent was driving?"

Lois turned back to look at her partner, now struggling awake and trying to brush off the hands of his helpers, incoherently muttering something about hospitals and needles. She needed to wrap this up quick. "Yes."

"Does he drive frequently?"

Lois' brow furrowed suddenly. "Come to think of it, no. Not really. He doesn't really ask to. And he doesn't have a car, but neither do a lot of people in the city."

"And you say he's never had something like this happen to him before?"

Lois suddenly hesitated. This was drifting into uncomfortable territory. "Well, I don't think so. Not in my presence anyway." Her eyes lit up as one of his excuses rose to mind. "But he is always running off to doctor's appointments of some kind or another. Maybe that has something to do with it?"

The officer nodded, seeming to accept that answer for now. "All right. I'll call a tow truck over and you can accompany Mr. Kent to the hospital to get checked out." He walked away to make his calls and Lois immediately went to Clark's side as he called out.

"Clark? What's the matter?"

"No! No hospitals. No."

He seemed like he was babbling, and the EMTs insisted on taking him to get checked out. Lois knew his concern of course, but she couldn't exactly agree with his less-than-irrational behavior right now.

"Clark," she soothed, rubbing her hand on his arm. The effect almost immediately calmed him down. "Listen to me. You don't have to stay there, and you probably won't have to do much of anything. They just need to check you out and make sure everything's okay. The story can wait for a few hours."

His eyes turned to her in slight confusion, but she gave him a quick wink and some of the tension fled from his features.

"I mean, what if there's something these EMTs missed? You don't want to risk having another seizure just because they goofed up and didn't check you out completely right? Then we'd have to write a whole other article about how the emergency teams are poorly staffed and undertrained, and then it'd be a whole thing. You don't want to do all that work, do you?"

Recognition flashed through his eyes, followed closely by a look of utter awe at her genius. She really was brilliant.

"Although, it would make a great follow-up to our article on the police force's incompetence at catching burglaries at major facilities such as S.T.A.R. Labs." She grinned, unable to resist that last jab.

"Excuse me," the younger man of the two spoke up, his tone defensive. "But I think you're writing us off a little too quickly there, miss. We are good at our jobs."

"Oh, no. I'm sure you are," Lois laid it on really thick. "It's not that I don't trust you to do your jobs or anything like that. I do. I just know how important it is for the professionals at the emergency room to do a more *thorough* check."

She could see the two stewing at her comments, but astutely decided to pretend she didn't notice.

Clark finally spoke, his voice rough and gravelly. "Lois, I'm fine. It's not like they don't know what they're doing. I'm sure they could do a better job than the overworked staff at the emergency room."

"He's right, ma'am," the older EMT spoke up this time, trying to maintain his cool. "Technically speaking, we have a better chance of identifying the problem here and now than some doctor on his third shift can three hours from now."

"Yeah," chimed in the younger man once again, a little too happy to jump on the bandwagon. "And we can't force him to undergo medical treatment. It's against medical advice, but if he signs a waiver and gets someone else to sign him out, he can be free to go at any time."

The older man shot the eager medic a disapproving glare, and his shoulders slumped quickly. "We'd have to do a more thorough check before we could be allowed to do that, though," he added.

Lois looked Clark in the eyes briefly, surveying them. He looked extremely tired and in pain -- putting on a brave face and pretending all was okay was taking more out of him than even she knew. He should just go to a hospital to get checked out. Then again, she knew exactly why they couldn't do that now, why Clark outright refused to. He couldn't risk it. Sure, maybe a needle would pierce his skin *now*, when he'd just been exposed to the Kryptonite, but in the next few hours? Who could tell what would happen then?

Clark nodded and grimaced. "Yeah. Do that."

Lois nodded to the medics and they got to work, checking his pulse, his pupils, running every sort of test they could to make sure there wasn't any lasting damage. Lois sat by his side the whole time, loosely holding his hand in her grip.

The officer strode back over to her and spoke. "Miss Lane? The tow truck will be here in a few minutes. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Lois tore her eyes away from Clark's pain-contorted face and back to the man who addressed her. "Not that I can think of, Officer."

"Oh, please," he brushed off the term quickly. "You can call me Adam."

"All right. Thank you Adam. And it's Lois."

He grinned at her and Lois grinned back. At the very least, she'd made a new friend on the police force tonight. Maybe he'd help her sneak under some yellow tape every once in a while. Henderson would sure *love* that.

He started to walk away, and as Lois looked back at the EMTs finishing up with Clark she had another thought. "Actually, Adam?"

He turned back with a smile. "Yes, Lois?"

"Would you mind terribly if you called us a cab?"

***

Lois groaned under the weight of the man half-slumped over her shoulder. Good lord, he was built like an oak tree. She supposed it made sense, considering all of the new light that had been shed on her slightly geeky partner this evening, but who knew he was so heavy? Even Superman seemed lighter than air despite all those muscles... and then she seriously had to clamp down on her brain to stay focused, because the thought of the man leaning against her having all those wonderful muscles was all sorts of distracting.

She huffed in frustration as she struggled with the key to his apartment. "Clark," she bit out a little harsher than she'd intended, "Maybe you can help us both out a bit and lean up against the wall until I get the door open?"

He groaned loudly as he pushed himself off her shoulders and landed with a slight thud on the opposite wall.

"Thank you," she murmured under her breath. It was now easy to get the key in the lock and turn it, and within a few moments, they were inside his apartment.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she deposited her friend and hero onto his sofa. He landed heavily in the cushions, letting out a sigh of his own.

Lois turned to his kitchen, looking to make something to drink. The thought of a stiff liquor was tempting, but she immediately quelled that thought. She needed all of her mental faculties available to her if she was gonna get through this and keep an eye on her partner. Maybe tea would do them both some good -- calm her nerves, soothe his system. Yeah. Where did he keep that Oolong he was always going on about?

She found the packet of tea leaves, but found herself at a loss when looking for a kettle. Where would he keep it? She couldn't find it in any of the cabinets or drawers. Was it possible he didn't have one? How could that be when he drank tea more frequently than she ate chocolate?

Oh.

It suddenly struck her that Clark Kent, her partner and best friend in the world, the man who knew more about her than anyone else, was *Superman*. Somehow, the weight of it all hadn't hit home until just now, going about a seemingly normal task and realizing that, more than she'd even thought upon discovering the fact, Superman was really Clark Kent.

How often did he use his powers in non-rescue situations? Did he always heat his drinks that way? His food? Her food? Little things came flooding through her mind, things that didn't add up over the past several months. How her once-cold coffee had gotten warm again, how he'd maybe responded to something she said that she hadn't thought he could hear. All those times when he ran off to go "call the police" or some other nonsense like that and then turn around two seconds later and fly to the rescue as Superman. She couldn't believe it. Her partner was Superman. Clark Kent, the man she sat less than ten feet away from every day at work and argued and bantered with. The man who wore ridiculous ties and took three sugars in his full fat latte and went back for two donuts in the bullpen. The man who single-handedly lifted a rocket into outer space and who saved her innumerable times.

The man who enjoyed a good corn festival as much as a flight around the world.

Oh, God.

And she'd almost killed him.

Part of her wanted to laugh at the incongruity of it all. She had broken into one of the most important places in Metropolis to steal the one thing that could kill her partner and the first thing she'd thought of was to show him her prize. The irony of it all... Lois did start laughing at the thought, found she couldn't stop. She clutched at her side, near tears, and leaned heavily against the counter behind her.

"Lois?" a weak, confused-sounding voice called out to her ears, prompting more peals of laughter.

Clark dragged himself off the couch and made his way over to the kitchen. He found his partner sitting on the floor, in tears over her laughter. A spike of concern ran through him at her behavior, and he carefully eased himself down next to her on the tile of his kitchen. "Lois," he started, touching her arm slightly. It felt heavier than normal, making lifting his arm that much harder.

"Lois," he tried again, voice a little stronger this time.

Lois shook her head, trying to snap herself out of it. She knew it was the combination of worry, confusion and the lateness of the hour that was making her so giddy. Brushing away her tears and slowly coming down off her hilarity, she sighed. "I'm okay, Clark. You don't need to worry."

"I always worry about you."

Lois turned to look into his eyes, and the most honest, hopeful, sorry expression she'd ever seen on his face stared back at her. Immediately, her giddiness was gone, and there was an unresolved tension in the room. She couldn't turn her eyes away, as much as she wanted to escape from the unwanted intensity of it all. "I--" she tried, but suddenly found her words stuck behind a lump in her throat.

Finally, Clark broke his gaze, his head thumping back to rest against the cabinet door behind him. He couldn't keep holding it up on his own any longer.

There was a silence between them, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Lois looked at her hands intently, unsure of what to say, sure that she wouldn't end up saying the right thing if she tried. She wished she could go back to not knowing, she thought to herself. Just rewind the whole night, maybe even back up to before she thought to steal the Kryptonite to find proof of its existence. Then things wouldn't be so awkward between the two of them, Clark wouldn't have been hurt and her car wouldn't be the wreck it was currently.

"I'm sorry," Clark's hoarse voice suddenly broke the silence, surprising Lois. She turned to look at his expression, relaxed into a state of what looked like defeat with his eyes gently closed as his head lolled back against the wood panel behind him. She had a hard time keeping her mouth from hanging open.

"*You're* sorry? Clark, I almost killed you tonight!"

He managed a small chuckle at her words. "Well, there's that." At her fallen expression, he nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, don't worry about it. If that was true, then technically my dad tried to kill me too."

Lois' eyes went wide. "What??"

"Yeah. When we first went out to Smallville, before Trask... Wayne Irig gave my dad a chunk of Kryptonite, not knowing what it was. Dad wanted me to take a look at it. I felt sick and that's all I remember after that. I guess I passed out in the barn, they had to drag me back into the house. You know when you came downstairs, and saw that I wasn't feeling good?"

Lois was quiet for a minute. "It wasn't allergies," she spoke slowly.

Clark hesitated briefly, then nodded. "Yeah. But that's what I'm saying. Don't beat yourself up about it. You didn't know."

Those last three words sunk in slowly. "You're right. I didn't know."

Her tone suddenly changed, and Clark got nervous. He ran a hand over his face, trying to relax his features from the worry he knew to be etched in them. "You *are* mad. I knew you would be. I'm sorry. I should have... told you, I guess. I just..."

"No, I'm... I'm not mad. I mean, I am mad. I should be. I just," Lois was struggling with this as much as Clark was. How should she feel? On the one hand, she felt cheated that he hadn't told her his secret. On the other hand, could she blame him? "I guess I'm just mad you didn't trust me enough to tell me."

"Lois, that's not true at all," Clark spoke emphatically, wincing in pain as he turned his body to face hers more fully. "I trust you. I trust you with my life." She snorted at him. "It's true! Do you know how many times I've moved around, wandering the world just to escape people? Do you know how many people know who I really am?"

Lois rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm guessing your parents. And obviously Trask, and whoever else you might have run into."

Clark shook his head firmly at her words in spite of the ache it gave him. "No. That's not what I'm saying. Yes, very few people know I'm Superman. You're the first person I've ever really told about that -- and even now, you figured it out on your own. Unfortunately, there have been some in the past who have figured out what I can do. Because of this, though, I'm a very private person, Lois.

"You know the real Clark Kent. You know the guy who likes to watch sports and who plays poker with his coworkers at the office. You know the me who will stay up late watching movies with you, who will break into buildings with you, all to get the latest scoop on the next big story. You know the me who..."

His voice suddenly trails off and he looks very insecure. Lois eyes him nervously. Everything had been going so well until now. "Who what, Clark?"

Clark swallowed, taking courage from her gaze. She knew the truth about his origins already. It was only fair to tell her the whole truth. For once, he could be the one to jump in head first without checking the water level. "You know the Clark Kent who would do anything for you, who would be at your beck and call day or night. You know the man who cracks jokes, or brings you your coffee at work every morning, just to see you smile. You know *me*, Lois. Because I'm the guy who's spent every minute of my waking hours -- even some of my dreaming ones -- thinking about you. Because I've been in love with you practically since the moment I saw you."

Lois was stunned into silence by his confession. It was much more than she was expecting, certainly. He didn't mean that, did he? And yet he stared back at her with such openness and honesty... and if she were frank, it made sense. All those lingering stares, some of his flirty banter. But still. "You... you couldn't possibly mean that, Clark," she croaked out.

"I do, Lois."

Her heartbeat started thundering in her ears, and she quickly jumped to her feet and began to pace his kitchen. Clark simply stared up at her, watching her lithe movements as she attempted to trudge a hole in his floor.

"No, you can't mean that. I mean, I'm a wreck!"

"You are not," Clark jumped in. He was determined to make her see from his perspective, and maybe it was just the Kryptonite talking, but he couldn't just give up. He could be as stubborn as she was.

"I don't have a nice little happy family like you do."

He shrugs. "Most people don't. And my family isn't exactly normal. I'm an alien, remember?"

"I focus on my work purposely so that I leave no time for anything else."

"You're tenacious. I like that."

"I routinely commit felonies if they're all that stand between me and my story."

Clark couldn't help a wry grin at that one. "You definitely keep me on my toes."

She shot him a look, and he closed his mouth, but refused to wipe his smile away. "I've been horrible to you. When you first started working at the Planet... I can't say I've ever treated someone as horribly as I have you. Not without reason."

That did hurt a bit, Clark had to admit to himself. "I'm not going to lie and say that it was pleasant," he started slowly. "But you were guarded. I was new. And we've long since put that kind of behavior behind us."

"But... but..." Lois bit her lip hard, not sure how else she can make him understand. He just single-handedly dismantled every one of her arguments as to why he shouldn't like her, and he wasn't even at the top of his game right now.

He cocked his head slightly to the side as he looked up at her. "But what?"

"You're Superman!" she spluttered out.

Clark felt his eyes widen as it struck him what she was saying. That stung. He hung his head in defeat finally. "I understand," he spoke in a monotone voice.

Lois stopped at the sudden change in his behavior. "You do?" she asked uncertainly. Had she really talked him out of it so quickly? What did that say about his affections for her?

"Sure," he nodded. "I don't know of many people out there that would want to be with an alien. I can't blame you if you want a human relationship. Maybe I'd feel the same in your shoes."

Her heart sunk at his words, and before she could think twice about her words, Lois found herself kneeling in front of him on the floor and grasping his chin firmly. "Clark, no!" His eyes had a hard time meeting hers. "That's not what I meant at all! Look at me, Clark."

Finally his chocolate brown gaze met her own, filled with a different sort of pain. She'd had no idea that he'd felt so insecure about himself.

"Then what?" he asked on a whisper.

He seemed so broken, and suddenly Lois couldn't help but kiss him. She leaned forward and pressed her lips tightly to his. When she broke the kiss, the look of bewilderment and excitement in his eyes was exactly what she was hoping to find. "Clark, I love that you're Superman. It makes you that much more heroic. The fact that you have a life, friends and family that you could be putting at risk every day and yet you still put it aside to do what's best for the world -- that's incredible. I don't care if you crawled out of a sewer, much less if you're an alien. You're the most human person I know." She paused in thought a moment before continuing. "I just don't know what on earth you could see in me."

He shrugged his shoulders loosely. "You're perfect."

Her heart fluttered wildly at that. Could he really mean that? She swallowed as she thought over his words and sat down beside him once again. She leaned her head back against the cabinet as well, matching his posture unconsciously. Finally, after a few moments of silence, she spoke once more. "You're sick. You're probably really tired."

Clark didn't respond for a while, and for a few minutes, Lois began to wonder what he was thinking. She could practically feel the wheels in his head turning. When he did speak, though, it was not the words that she had expected.

"You're right. I don't feel well. I'm tired, I'm fairly dizzy from the pain. I feel faintly sick. I'm having trouble lifting myself off the floor. So maybe it doesn't mean much coming from me right now." He looked at her once more, making sure she understood every word coming from him was absolutely sincere. "But Lois, I'm not just saying this now. I really have felt this way since the moment I met you. You stormed into Perry's office in the middle of my interview, and I couldn't take my eyes off you. And ever since then, I've done my best to get you to see me for who I really am."

"I do, Clark," she insisted, but he held up his hand to stop her.

"I know that. It's just... for so long, I've kept this secret about myself. And I knew that one day I would have to tell you. I wanted to. But, at first, I was worried about how you'd accept me, or if you'd hear what I had to say and think Pulitzer. And then... then we were friends, partners. I didn't want to jeopardize that relationship. I was hoping for more. And the longer I waited, the worse it got, and then you were all moony-eyed over Superman, and," he threw his hands up helplessly in the air. "And I guess it just got away from me. I got... jealous, I suppose."

Lois couldn't suppress a slight grin at that. "Jealous of yourself?"

"I didn't say it was rational," he frowned at her, making her laugh.

The atmosphere was somewhat more relaxed once they had cleared the air. Lois turned to face him. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Ask me anything. I want you to know everything about me, Lois. There's so much I've been wanting to tell you."

She shot him a quick grin. "I'm gonna take you up on that."

"I knew you would," he shot right back.

She returned with a small smile before dropping her expression and staring at their feet in front of them. "The Kryptonite. Why... why didn't you tell me about it? As Superman, as Clark, anything? I was never so afraid in my life as I was when Trask pointed that gun at you, Clark. I never want to see you get hurt like that. You could have died -- and I wouldn't have even known... The Kryptonite would have killed you."

A wave of guilt washed over him. "I'm... I'm sorry. I just--"

"No, I get it that you didn't want to tell me your secret. That's fine. It's just... afterwards or something, I mean. I've been working on this Kryptonite idea for almost two months, I've asked you questions about it -- both you and Superman. And you always just shrugged it off."

Clark hesitated a moment, thinking over her words. "I guess... I just was worried that if I said anything, you'd make the jump that Clark Kent could be Superman."

"You could have just said that you asked Superman the same thing and he said yeah, it's real."

Clark was amazed by how easy his partner made everything seem. "Sorry," he replied once more, fighting off a slight grin.

Lois looked at him suspiciously. "What?"

"Nothing."

She crossed her arms and turned to level him with a glare. "What is it?"

"I'm just realizing how much better you are at coming up with excuses than I am."

Lois rolled her eyes. "God, I know. If I never heard another late video rental or cheese of the month excuse in my life, I'd be happy."

Clark laughed, glad she was able to take it with good humor. He bit his lip. "So... are we okay?"

Lois thought about it for a moment -- a moment too long for Clark's liking. He was about to open his mouth and start apologizing some more when she cut him off with a hard, passionate kiss to his lips.

When the kiss broke apart, and they were both quite breathless, Lois finally smiled and gave him the response he was looking for.

"Yeah. We're okay."

THE END

The following story –

“The Vampire Murders”

by – Nan Smith

was Nominated in the:

Best Long Story

Best Original Character

and

Best Overall

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Description: Lois and Clark investigate a series of strange murders in Metropolis, and the main suspect may be ... a vampire?

The Vampire Murders

By Nan Smith <hachiban@earthlink.net>

Rated: PG-13

Submitted: December 2013

Disclaimer: The recognizable characters and settings in this story are the property of D.C. Comics, Warner Bros., December 3rd Productions, and anyone else with a legal right to them, and I have no claim on them whatsoever, nor am I profiting by their use, but any of the new characters and situations are mine, and the story belongs to me.

The Vampire Murders

By Nan Smith

Part 1

Lois Lane looked up from a study of her handwritten notes for the fourth time in ten minutes and rubbed her eyes. Really, her handwriting was getting worse and worse all the time, she thought, rubbing her neck with one hand. She was going to have to work on her penmanship.

Across the room, the television was on and she noted that the blonde who co-anchored the local news channel was speaking. The sound was off, and this program didn't use closed captioning, so she couldn't tell what the woman was saying, but her male partner, a young man just as pretty as she was, was laughing, so it couldn't be anything too important.

Her gaze shifted to her apartment window. It was a clear night, a little cold for the season, and she had closed the glass but left the curtains open, just on the off chance that Superman would fly by. She studied the window uneasily. It was almost as if someone were watching her. After a moment, she got up, locked the window and pulled the curtains.

The feeling of observation faded away and she felt her shoulders relax. After a moment, she went into her kitchen, filled the little-used Corningware teapot with water and set it on the burner. Somehow this evening a cup of the Oolong Tea imported from China, that Clark had given her a few months ago when she had been fighting a head cold, sounded good.

While the water heated, she consulted the instructions that Clark had painstakingly written out for her, and at what she judged was the right time, removed the pot from the burner and dropped in the tea leaves, wondering what Clark's thing was for tea leaves instead of tea bags. Maybe that was why the tea he made at his place always seemed so much better than hers. But his coffee was better than hers, too, she reflected. Maybe that was because he ground his own coffee beans, bought from who-knew-where. And maybe it was just because he knew what he was doing. Besides, Instant was usually her coffee of choice, even though she had a coffee maker. It was faster and a lot easier.

She set the timer to allow the tea to steep. Clark evidently had wisely decided that it would be prudent not to leave the timing to her judgment, she thought. She would never admit it, but he was probably right. She resolutely did not look at the plastic tray, which had held her frozen turkey dinner, protruding from the kitchen trash can. Okay, so cooking wasn't her strong point. At least her partner didn't seem to mind.

Again, she glanced at the window, now covered with the curtains. Was it her imagination or had a shadow passed across it? Who would be likely to cast a shadow on her window curtains except Superman? She was on the fifth floor, after all.

She started to cross the room to pull back the curtains when her gaze fell on the television, which was showing a breaking live news report. Superman was engaged in an interview about the robbery that he had apparently just foiled, judging by the print scrolling across the bottom of the screen. Lois reached for the remote that lay on the counter and turned up the sound.

Her window rattled faintly, and her head snapped around toward it. Was that shadow back? If Superman was across town, talking to a reporter, then what was rattling her window?

After a second, reason took over. It was the wind gusting against the side of the building, of course. The weather report had said they were in for thirty mile-an-hour winds tonight and tomorrow, followed by clouds in the afternoon.

Her timer rang, and she turned back to the teapot. Her hand was almost steady as she poured out the tea into an earthenware mug. She added artificial sweetener and blew gently across the surface of the liquid to cool it, but all the time, her ears were straining to hear any other sound coming from beyond the window.

There was nothing, and the faint rattle had ceased.

She sipped the tea, raising her eyebrows at the delicate flavor. Clark evidently had either picked out really good tea, or the directions had worked out right after all -- or both. She sank back against the couch, wincing at the non-yielding piece of furniture. Clark was right. This thing was an instrument of torture. It wasn't designed to relax on.

She turned up the TV's sound.

The newscaster was speaking. "… Body of the unidentified man was found in Centennial Park. The discovery was made late this evening by a couple who, according to their statement, were taking a short cut through the park ...."

Lois sipped her tea slowly, savoring the taste. She definitely had to preserve Clark's directions, she thought, as she listened to the report with half her attention. She had phoned in this story to the rewrite desk an hour ago. The victim had been discovered on the main path, and couldn't possibly have been there long. The case was similar to another one, two days before, but the police spokesman had refused to comment on the possibility, raised by Clark, that there might be any connection.

Her gaze was drawn back to the window once more. She didn't see any sign of a shadow now. Probably there had never been one, but the faint uneasiness wouldn't quite go away. Deliberately, she finished her tea and turned off the television. It was high time for her to head for bed before she completely spooked herself out -- but just in case, she decided that, if only for tonight, she was going to leave all her lights on and make sure that every window was locked, fifth floor or not.

**********

The sky was clear the next morning as Lois drove to the Daily Planet, and the wind was gusting enthusiastically as she maneuvered through the streets. Pedestrians clutched hats that tried to fly away and coats flapped in the vigorous breeze.

A flash of red and blue above and to her left made her look up quickly as she turned into the entrance to the Daily Planet's parking garage, but if it had been Superman, he was already gone. She slid her pass card through the scanner and waited while the bar lifted to allow her into the lot. A few moments later, she was on the elevator and headed for the newsroom.

The car slid to a stop on the first floor and, to her surprise, Clark Kent stepped in. He smiled cheerfully when he saw her. "Good morning!"

"That's a matter of opinion," she said. "I haven't had my coffee yet."

"We can take care of that when we get upstairs," Clark said.

"Depends. Do you actually call that stuff in the coffee machine coffee?"

He chuckled. "Well, maybe just for starters. We can pick you up some real coffee later."

"I guess," she said. "Have you heard any more about that thing last night?"

"What thing? Oh, you mean the murder case. A contact of mine at the station called me this morning with the autopsy results." He scowled. "Weird, really."

She waited impatiently as the doors closed and the elevator resumed its creaky journey upwards, and then prodded, "What do you mean 'weird'?"

"The cause of death," he said.

"Yeah? So what was so weird about it?"

"The cause of death was blood loss."

"How is that weird? Lots of people die of stab wounds."

"He wasn't stabbed," Clark said. "Or shot. The cause of death was complete blood loss, but the only wounds on the body were two small punctures in the neck, right over the carotid artery."

"You're kidding." Images of the last vampire movie that she had seen popped into her mind, only to be dismissed.

Clark's expressive eyebrows flew up. "I don't kid about murder."

"Sorry," Lois said. "That's strange, all right. What did the medical examiner think?"

"My contact is faxing over the report," Clark said. "It should be waiting for us by the time we get to the newsroom."

As he spoke, the elevator opened and they stepped out into the morning bustle of the Daily Planet newsroom.

The place, as usual, was a madhouse, even this early in the morning. As they descended the ramp into the Pit, Jimmy Olsen waved a piece of fax paper over his head. "Hey, CK! You got a fax in just a minute ago!"

"There it is," Clark said. He speeded up slightly and met Jimmy at the foot of the ramp. "Thanks," he said, beginning to scan the paper at once. Lois waited impatiently.

"Well? I thought you were the speed reader," she said finally as Clark continued to scan the fax.

"Here." He handed her the paper, frowning. "It looks like somebody hit our man over the head before he was killed."

"Well," Lois said, "I don't see a vampire needing to knock somebody out before killing him, do you? It sounds like we have a really twisted killer, though."

"That's putting it mildly. Look at the rest." Clark indicated the information at the bottom of the page. "The guy's name was Frederick de Mint. Employed by Cost Mart for the last four months."

"Aha," Lois said quietly. She turned, looking around for Jimmy, who had departed after handing Clark the fax. "Jimmy!"

Jimmy waved a hand in acknowledgment and dropped a small stack of papers on the desk of the business editor, then turned and made his way to Lois's desk, arriving there just as she sat down and switched on her computer. "You bellowed, ma'am?"

"I did indeed," Lois said. "We need some background on this guy." She handed him Clark's fax. "His name's Frederick DeMint. Everything you can find on him, yesterday, if possible."

"I'll get on it as soon as I can," Jimmy promised. He turned his head at the shout of "Olsen!" from the Editor's office and grimaced. "S'cuse me." He hurried away, nearly running.

"Olsen!" The yell came from across the newsroom, in the general vicinity of the Sports desk. Lois shook her head. It looked like Jimmy was in high demand this morning. It might be a while before she got her information.

Perry's door burst open again and their editor stuck his head out. "Lane! Kent! Get over to the Wishing Well at Centennial Park! They've found another body!"

"Another one? What the heck is going on?" Lois grabbed her shoulder bag that she had just kicked under her desk and got to her feet. Clark had already retrieved her jacket from the coat tree and she accepted it without comment. "Let's go, partner."

**********

Inspector William Henderson, Metropolis Homicide Division, was standing with his hands shoved into the pockets of his light jacket, a dour look on his dark, slightly saturnine face. As usual, he wore his dark glasses, which gave Lois the impulse to shake her head, as clouds were beginning to drift across the sky, dimming the bright sunlight. Around him was the organized chaos of a police investigation.

The area where the victim lay had been roped off, of course, and Lois glanced briefly at the sheet-covered silhouette of the form that sprawled on the grass. She saw Clark fiddling with his glasses, which he did all the time. She thought it must be a nervous habit, and had never mentioned it to him. Her partner lowered the spectacles slightly, apparently looking over the tops of the lenses at the shrouded form; then he shoved them back into place and trod determinedly over to Henderson. Lois followed.

Henderson's dour expression didn't change when he saw them, except to grow a little sourer. "Well, well," he remarked. "Look what the cat dragged in. What can Metropolis's Finest do for the Daily Planet today?"

Lois glanced over her shoulder at the victim. "What happened?"

"He was murdered," Henderson said, laconically.

"No kidding." Lois regarded him with disfavor. "How did he die? Was it anything like what happened to the guy last night?"

Henderson shoved his dark glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "Since we aren't sure what killed the other victim, I can't really say," he said.

Clark's hand squeezed her wrist slightly. "The victim last night was drained of blood," he pointed out. "I don't suppose anything like that happened to this fellow?"

Henderson appeared to relent. "We don't know for sure," he admitted, "but it looks a lot like last night's case. There isn't any blood to see, but the victim appears to have been exsanguinated, and there are two small holes on his neck -- right over the carotid artery." He blew out his breath. "Somebody's playing some sick games."

"How about the victim a couple of nights ago?" Lois inquired. "I don't suppose he had any similarity to the last two."

"You know, Lois," Henderson said, "you have all the delicacy of a bull in a China shop."

"I'm a reporter," Lois said. "Did he?"

Henderson shrugged. "Yeah, he did."

"Drained of blood?"

Henderson grunted. "Yeah."

"So that's three," Lois said. "What's going on? Somebody playing vampire?"

"Maybe," Henderson said. "I don't want to draw any conclusions yet."

"Who found this one?" Clark asked.

"Early morning jogger. Guy looks like he's been dead several hours. We'll know more by this afternoon."

"Can you fax us over the report when the medical examiner has finished?" Clark asked. Lois didn't speak. She'd noticed that Henderson was much more likely to cooperate if Clark made the requests.

Henderson sighed gustily. "Sure. Why not?"

"Thanks, Bill," Clark said. "We owe you one."

"Don't mention it," Henderson muttered.

Part 2

"This is really weird," Lois said. They pushed their way through the revolving doors into the Daily Planet's lobby. "What's going on, do you think?"

"Well, the one victim we know anything about," Clark said, "worked for Cost Mart. I wonder if Bobby would know anything about him."

"He might. Jimmy might have something for us by now, too." Lois punched the call button for the Planet's elevator with unnecessary force. "But he was the second victim. Who was the first, and who was this last guy? Henderson wasn't very forthcoming, if you ask me."

Clark stuck his hands in his pockets. "We'll find out. First things first, though. What I want to know is why the murders were done in such a weird way. I don't think anyone seriously believes it could be a real vampire."

The elevator arrived and they entered. "You thought of the same thing, huh?" Lois said.

"I'm sure we were supposed to think of it," Clark said. He pushed the button for the third floor. "What I want to know is why."

"Me too. Halloween was over three weeks ago, so I think the ghoul factor is kind of stretching it."

"Oh, I don't know. How about that woman last week, who was keeping Lex Luthor's body for herself? That's pretty ghoulish."

Lois shivered. "Don't remind me. I'd rather deal with a vampire." She frowned. "You know, Lex's body disappeared right after that. You don't suppose --"

"I definitely don't," Clark said, with unnecessary emphasis.

"Me either," Lois said with equal firmness, resolutely banishing the hair-raising thought. Vampires were nothing but stories to scare children and the superstitious. There was no point in creeping herself out over this whole, very weird episode. There had to be a logical, rational explanation for the whole thing.

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out, to be greeted by the usual hubbub of the newsroom in the midmorning. It was so normal that the creepy idea that had been worming around in Lois's thoughts instantly receded. She and Clark would figure this out. Supernatural agencies weren't something that she needed to worry about. Something had killed those three victims in the park, and that something was almost certainly human. And given that, the perpetrator must have left some clues. She and Clark had only to figure out what they were.

"Jimmy!" she shouted.

The young computer expert was at his small desk, obviously concentrating on his computer screen and hadn't heard her. Lois disdained the ramp and took the short cut down the steps to the Pit, Clark on her heels.

"Jimmy!" she said again.

This time, he looked up. "Oh, hi," he said mildly. "I've been researching your murder victim."

"Any results?" Clark asked.

Jimmy shook his head. "Not a lot," he admitted. "The only information I can find on him is limited to the last year, and there isn't much of that. Social Security number, driver's license, address -- that kind of thing. He's worked at Cost Mart as a shelf stocker for the last four months. I'll keep hunting, though. Since he was murdered, we know he exists, so there's bound to be some stuff on him somewhere, if I can find it."

"Maybe he was using another name," Clark suggested.

"I thought of that," Jimmy admitted. "I'm looking for what I can find on that front, too. I'll let you know as soon as I find anything."

"Well," Lois said, "give us what you have and we'll start looking from that end. And there were two other victims -- no names yet. See what you can do about them, too."

Jimmy nodded. "You got it. If you find out more you might tell me. It'll help me with the searches. Oh, you've got a fax, CK. I left it on your desk."

"Thanks." Clark headed over to his desk. "Huh. That was fast."

"What was?" Lois peered over his shoulder, trying to see the printout.

"The medical examiner's report. Henderson must have put a rush on it."

"I'll say," Lois said. "He must have got the examiner on it before the body got to the morgue."

Clark was scowling at the report. "There's a note here from Henderson, too. The victim's name is Tom Baucus. Look who he worked for." He extended the paper.

Lois felt her eyebrows rising as she scanned the document. "Cost Mart. This can't be a coincidence."

"Well, it could be but it makes it less likely." Clark reached for the phone. "I'm going to call my contact and see if he can get me the info on the first victim."

"And I'm going to call Bobby," Lois said.

**********

Bobby Bigmouth was a lean, nondescript man with an unflappable demeanor and an expression that never changed. Somehow he always managed to project a faint air of gnawing hunger, even while wolfing down some massive sandwich or other substantial dish brought to him by Lois.

Bobby was in the serving line at the Fifth Street Mission when Clark and Lois came through the line. Their snitch helped himself to a generous bite of the tuna noodle casserole before spooning a serving onto the tray of one of the mission's clients.

"Hi, kids," he greeted them. "You got my snack?"

"Uh, yeah." Clark looked around doubtfully. "Actually, it's a pre-paid dinner at the Mandarin Palace. Just give Lois's name."

"Okay," Bobby said amiably. "I'll drop by there right after my shift is over."

"Great," Lois said. "Now that we've taken care of the important stuff, how about some information?"

Bobby took another bite of casserole, followed by a swig of milk from a half gallon carton sitting beside the serving container. "Sure." He looked over his shoulder. "Fred, canya take over for me a minute?"

A lean Asian man took Bobby's place. "Five minutes," he said, glancing at his watch.

"Sure thing." Bobby beckoned to Lois and Clark. "Come on outside. I'm gonna get some air."

Lois didn't think much of the "air" since Bobby's chosen spot was beside a large garbage bin. She sniffed and wrinkled her nose but said nothing. If their snitch was on a time schedule, he wouldn't be late when there was food back in the mission dining room. Instead, she came directly to the point. "You've heard about the murders in Centennial Park? There was a body found there last night, and a second one this morning."

"And one three days ago," Clark added. "Can you tell us anything?"

"Yeah." For the first time, Bobby looked a little uncomfortable. "The last two guys were newcomers. They worked over at Cost Mart on the night shift. One of them was a security guard, and the other one stocked shelves. Kept to themselves, pretty much. I saw 'em a couple of times at Clemantina's All Nite Diner, after their shifts."

"Newcomers?" Lois asked.

"Uh huh. Hadn't seen 'em before about six months ago."

"How about the first victim?" Clark asked. "Can you tell us anything about him?"

"Yeah" Bobby said. "His name was Manny. Homeless guy, never caused any trouble. Friend of mine. He slept outside in the summer and fall, then when it started to get cold he'd go over to the shelter. Kinda quiet. The night before he was killed --" Bobby stopped, looking even more uncomfortable.

"What?" Lois asked. "Did he get into some kind of trouble?"

Bobby shook his head. "No. He came into the shelter at a dead run. Said something was chasing him."

Lois felt a faint tingle of alarm run over her scalp. "Did he say who?"

"Not who," Bobby corrected her. "What. I help out there sometimes. I was there when he came in. He was outta breath, and scared. Said some kinda flying thing had come at him outta the dark."

"A flying thing?" Clark said, frowning. "A bat?"

"No." Bobby shifted nervously and looked at his watch. It was a very nice watch, Lois saw. "Look, I gotta get back."

"Did he say what it was?" Lois asked. "Superman?"

"No," Bobby said. "He wasn't scared of Superman. He said this thing was black, the size of a man, and it came from above him. He ran and got inside the shelter." He turned and started back toward the mission, then he hesitated a second, half-turning back to look directly at Lois. "I don't know what it was. But I think it got him the next night. Or something did. If you go looking for it, better be careful." He disappeared through the door without another word.

Lois and Clark looked after him, speechless, and then at each other.

"What on Earth --" Lois said.

Clark was fiddling with his glasses, still looking after Bobby. After a moment, he shoved his glasses firmly into place and stuck his hands into his pockets. "I didn't think Bobby was superstitious," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Did you notice what he was wearing around his neck?"

Lois hadn't. "What?"

"A gold chain. I got just a short look, but I think he was wearing a gold crucifix."

"Bobby?" Lois stared at her partner. "You don't think he really thinks it was actually a vampire? This is 1994!"

Clark didn't answer. "I guess the whole thing spooked him, especially since his friend was killed the next night," he said slowly. After several seconds he shook his head. "Let's get back to the office," he said. "Maybe Jimmy'll have something more for us by now."

**********

Jimmy wasn't in evidence when they walked back into the newsroom, but there were several papers lying on Clark's desk, on top of the fax from Henderson, weighed down by Clark's coffee cup. Lois pulled them unceremoniously out from under the cup. The container teetered and nearly upset and Clark caught it quickly. "What have we got?"

"This must be the stuff from your contact," Lois said, scanning the paper. "It says the first victim was Manfred Chesterton, and lists his official address as the homeless shelter. Age, weight, apparently had a drinking problem. Spent the night in the drunk tank last month. No connection mentioned to Cost Mart." She raised her eyebrows slightly. "Apparently he was a former aerospace engineer, fired from NASA five years ago."

"Any information about how he died?"

Lois shook her head. "No signs of trauma on the body," she said, still reading from the paper. "No overt cause of death but blood loss, and two small punctures over the left carotid artery." She handed the paper to Clark. "I can't see some guy standing there letting his murderer drain him of blood without putting up some kind of fight. That guy last night had been hit over the head, remember. The medical examiner must have missed something."

"Maybe we need to talk to Henderson again," Clark said. "He might know more than he's saying. Anything more on the third victim?"

Lois had been looking. "No. Name, age, driver's license, Social Security number, address. Just like the one last night. No history past about a year ago."

"Something's fishy here," Clark said. "Two murder victims with no history to speak of and a homeless man. Where's the connection?"

"The only one I can see," Lois said, "is Cost Mart. Which one did they work at?" She shuffled the papers again, looking for the information. "Looks like the new one, over by Old Town. I guess we need to go over there next."

"They aren't going to talk to us," Clark pointed out.

"Sure they will," Lois said. She stood up and reached for her jacket. "If they want to look innocent, the last thing they should do is refuse to talk to the press. Let's go."

Part 3

"Is that it?" Lois nodded out the side window as the SUV approached a very large, box-like building, surrounded by a spacious parking lot. To one side, wooden barricades blocked off a section of the lot where torn pavement and piles of dirt indicated that there was some sort of construction going on. Several pieces of earth-moving equipment sat idle about the site, and men in hard hats were seated here and there, apparently eating their lunches.

"Looks like it," Clark said. "There's a parking spot," he added.

"I wonder what they're doing to their parking lot," Lois remarked. "They've blocked off half the parking spaces."

"Looks like they're digging up the pavement," Clark said. "Maybe they're adding on to the building."

Lois parked the Cherokee and cut the engine. "Well, let's see if we can talk to the manager and get his official take on the deaths of his employees," she said. "And I want to look around a little. It might not be a bad idea, in case we have to come back later."

"Are we coming back later?" Clark asked.

"Maybe," Lois said. "It depends on what we find out."

Inside the building, it was identical to the Cost Mart nearer to the Daily Planet, where Lois had shopped on more than one occasion -- a big, warehouse-sized, box-like store with an amazing variety of merchandise, ranging from massage chairs to cold pills to actual grocery items. Prominently displayed in the inner entrance walkway was a bright red Ferrari, along with a glaring sign announcing a drawing on the last day of the month for some lucky customer. Lois passed it without a second look and led the way to the service desk.

The customer service representative was a young woman, who smiled brightly at her. Her smile widened when she saw Clark, Lois noted, unreasonably irritated. "May I help you?"

"I hope so," Lois said. She produced her press credentials. "I'm Lois Lane and this is my partner, Clark Kent, from the Daily Planet. We were hoping for a chance to speak to your manager --" She glanced at the plaque on the wall behind the woman that listed the store officers. "Mr. Clarence Brunner?"

"Uhh --" The receptionist appeared slightly perplexed. "Why?"

"This is about the two Cost Mart employees found dead in Centennial Park," Lois said. "One was found last night, and the other this morning. They apparently worked at this store, and we were wondering if your manager might have any insight on the event."

The woman's eyes grew large. "Dead?" she squeaked.

Lois nodded in her most matter-of-fact manner. "I'm afraid so, and the deaths were a little unusual. My partner and I are writing a piece about it for the Daily Planet. A statement from your manager would be useful. May we talk to him?"

The woman swallowed. "I'll have to make a call."

**********

Clarence Brunner was a large, sleek man with a head of thick, shiny black hair, a broad nose and a thin black mustache on his upper lip. The instant Lois saw him, an image rose in her mind of one of the recurring bad guys in the old Dick Tracy comic strip that had been a feature in the Daily Planet when she had been a child. His broad shoulders and the thick cigar that smoldered in the gold ash tray on his desk only made the image more familiar. He smiled when his secretary escorted them into his office and extended a hand to Clark.

"Ms. Lane, Mr. Kent." He shook Clark's hand and turned to Lois. The handshake lacked enthusiasm, to say the least, Lois thought, but he ran his gaze over her from head to toe. She tried to ignore the sudden sensation of having ventured out on business far too lightly clad. "Delighted to meet you. I recognize the names, of course. What can I do for the Daily Planet?"

Lois smiled pleasantly and let her partner take the lead. If she was any judge, this guy didn't have a lot of respect for females.

Clark smiled as well, and if she hadn't known her partner well, she wouldn't have spotted the fact that the smile was just as insincere as the one Brunner had given them. "You may have seen the report last night," he said, "about the body discovered in Centennial Park. Another one was discovered this morning, not far from the wishing well."

"That's too bad," Brunner said, "but how does this involve me?"

"You've had no contact from the police?"

The man shook the ash off the tip of his cigar and took a deep drag. "No. Should I expect them to contact me?" He blew a cloud of smoke that made Lois want to cough.

"I'm surprised they haven't," Clark said. "Both men were identified as employees of Cost Mart -- specifically, this Cost Mart. Frederick de Mint stocked shelves. He was the man discovered last night. The other was a security guard here, named Thomas Baucus. He apparently worked the night shift as well. We were wondering if you might have any comment?"

"How very strange." Brunner's voice was a study in oily disinterest. "Still, since I've heard nothing of this, I'll have to say 'no comment' to your questions. If you'd care to return at a later date, after I've had a chance to review their employment records and to speak with the police, I'll try to have something for you."

Lois glanced at Clark. Her partner's face was impossible to read, but something about his expression raised red flags for Lois. She stepped in quickly. "Can you think, Mr. Brunner, why anyone might have killed two of your employees?"

The man shook his head decisively. "Absolutely not. Whatever happened, I doubt there can be any connection to Cost Mart."

**********

"I don't believe him for a minute," Lois said. They stepped out the main doors of the Cost Mart store and into the parking lot.

"Neither do I," Clark said. "He was lying."

"No kidding. But about what?"

"I don't know." Clark had tilted his head, as she had seem him do many times. "Do you hear a jackhammer?"

Lois paused, listening. Now that he had drawn her attention to it, she did hear something. "Where have all the workmen gone? It's barely one o'clock."

"Probably back to work." Clark was fiddling with his glasses again, she saw. "I wonder what they're really doing, digging in the parking lot."

Lois cast him a suspicious glance. "Do you know something I don't, Kent?"

Clark shrugged. "Not really. It just occurred to me to wonder if those two men, who both worked the night shift around here, saw something they shouldn't have," he said. "If Cost Mart is part of Intergang --"

"Which it is," Lois interjected.

He shrugged. "Yeah, probably. Maybe they came across something that their bosses didn't want them to see."

"Maybe," Lois said, "we should come back here tonight and see if we can find anything."

"Together," Clark specified quickly. "You won't come back here by yourself."

She cast him an exasperated glance. "Of course not. As long as you'll come with me."

"Oh, I will. Definitely."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Why aren't you arguing? You always argue."

Clark shoved his glasses firmly into place. "Because I know very well you're going to come back here whether I want you to or not, so I figure if I come along, at least I'll be here to help if it gets dangerous. Besides," he added, "I think you're right. Something pretty nasty is going on here. I want to know what it is."

Lois opened the door of the Jeep and got into the driver's seat. "So do I. I guess you're learning things hanging around me after all, Kent."

Clark looked as if he were struggling not to grin. "You have no idea." He went around the back of the Jeep and got into the passenger seat. Lois started up the motor.

"One more thing," she added. "Be sure you wear stuff you don't care too much about."

"Why?" Clark asked.

"Well, it's probably dumb, but I want to see what they're doing with all that digging in the parking lot." She nodded at the signs of excavation beyond the barrier as she put the Jeep in forward. "It's probably nothing, but I want to make sure. They're probably just fixing the wiring or repairing the plumbing or something, but we won't know for certain unless we look. So we're going to look."

"Okay with me," Clark said. "I was thinking the same thing, myself. If Cost Mart is connected with Intergang, they could be up to anything."

"Exactly. And I still want to know more about victims two and three. But there's still victim number one, who didn't work for Cost Mart. There has to be a connection somewhere."

**********

"I got the background on victim number one," Jimmy was saying a short time later. "As far as I can see, there isn't any obvious connection to the other two guys except that he was killed the same way they were, and found in the park. Maybe the police will be able to tell you more than I can."

"Fat chance of that," Lois said. "Have you found anything more on the Cost Mart employees?"

"Nope." Jimmy shook his head. "It's as if they didn't exist before last year."

"Maybe they didn't," Clark suggested. "I mean, maybe they were using aliases."

"Both of them?" Lois frowned. "I guess it's possible, but if they were it wasn't an accident. Could they have been working together?"

"Maybe undercover police?" Jimmy hazarded.

"That might explain it," Lois said, trying not to sound excited. "If they were cops, and their bosses at Cost Mart found out --"

"I think we're jumping ahead of ourselves a little," Clark said. "They could have been police, I guess, but there might be other explanations, too. Did you get pictures of the two victims, Jimmy?"

"Yeah." Jimmy nodded at the folder of papers to the side of his computer.

"Do you think you could try to compare them to pictures of some of Metropolis's police officers? Say, Homicide, or some of their detectives?"

"I guess it can't hurt," Jimmy agreed. "I'll let you know if I come up with anything."

"You do that," Lois said. She glanced at her watch. "I think this thing has stopped."

Clark knew how she felt. Considering their plans for later this evening, the minutes seemed to be crawling by. However, he might be able to make some use of the time left ….

He glanced at his watch. "I'll be right back," he said. "I just have time to drop off the videotape I meant to return this morning."

Lois sighed. "I don't think I've rented as many videos in my life as the number you return," she said.

Clark managed to look contrite. Really, he had to think of some more convincing excuses to run off. The videotape thing was starting to get old. "I'll be right back," he said. "Then, since we've got that … stakeout tonight, let's drop by Martino's for some dinner before it gets dark. I'm paying," he added quickly as Lois opened her mouth to object. "I think I owe you for the last cab ride, anyway, so that ought to even the score."

He headed toward the exit before she could reply.

**********

Superman cut through the late afternoon air of Metropolis toward the Twelfth Precinct. Hopefully, William Henderson was in his office and would be willing to tell Superman more than he had told Clark Kent. Something was definitely not normal here. He had caught a short glimpse of that so-called excavation work in the Cost Mart parking lot today, and what he had seen called for a closer look.

The desk sergeant looked up as Clark, clad in the famous red and blue uniform, pushed open the doors of the office. "Hello, Superman. Can I help you?"

"Thank you, Sergeant. Is Inspector Henderson in?"

The man did something to the board in front of him. "Inspector, Superman's here to see you."

Clark heard Henderson's voice, somewhat distorted by static. "Send him back."

Henderson was seated behind his desk when Clark knocked on the doorframe, apparently reading something on the screen of his desktop computer. He looked up at the sound. "What can I do for you, Superman?"

"I needed some information," Clark said. "You seemed to be the one to ask."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

Clark stepped into the office. "The two men found dead in the park," he said. He hesitated. Henderson's face was expressionless, but he could hear the man's heartbeat speed up slightly. "By any chance, were they connected to the police department?"

One of Henderson's eyebrows slid up. "Now, why would you be interested in that?" he asked slowly.

"I have my reasons," Clark said. "I need to know."

Henderson regarded him for another long moment. "They were undercover officers," he said abruptly and very grimly. "I had the fun of informing their families that they weren't coming home."

Clark nodded. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm going to get whoever did this," Henderson said. "I don't buy the drained of blood explanation for a minute. Somebody murdered two of my best men."

Again, Clark nodded. "Is there any connection you know of to the homeless man who was found a couple of days before?" he asked.

Henderson shook his head. "We don't know. He was a former NASA employee who'd been living on the streets for several years. We're still looking into his background to see if we can make a connection, but there must be something. We'll find it, and when we do, hopefully it will help us identify the killer."

"Thanks." Clark regarded Henderson soberly. "I'm sorry about your men. If I find out anything concrete, you'll be the first to know. For the record, I don't believe in vampires, either."

"Don't tell me you came here out of curiosity," Henderson said.

"No, but like you, I don't know anything yet. All I have are a few guesses. At least you eliminated one question." He glanced at the clock on the wall of Henderson's office. "You'll be hearing from me, but I need to go. Thanks again."

Part 4

Old Town was lit up like a Christmas tree when Lois and Clark drove along the street that passed in front of the huge box-like building, but, except for the lights along the roof that illuminated the area in front of the door and along the sides of the Cost Mart building, the vacant parking lot was dim. There were a few light poles supposedly for security, but the actual illumination there was pathetic in Lois's opinion. They could stay in the shadows without too much trouble, she thought. She had also spotted a video camera covering the entrance, this afternoon, but she hadn't noticed any others, so getting in might not be impossible. There was always the probable danger of security guards, but they could be avoided if one was careful. In any case, the first place to check was probably the construction zone. It was by far the easiest to access.

Lois parked the Cherokee a block from the Cost Mart, near the Old Town Theater and she and Clark walked briskly through the cold, crisp November air toward their destination.

"There'll be security guards around," Clark said softly. His thoughts had obviously been paralleling hers.

"I know. Just stay alert." Lois approached the parking lot, walking quietly but not stealthily, careful to keep out of the light. Clark kept pace with her, moving silently on her left, and Lois had to give him credit. When Clark wanted to be quiet, he was really quiet, which led her to wonder peripherally where he had learned it. Her partner had, of course, traveled the world before he had come to work at the Planet. Hadn't he mentioned once that he'd learned to dance from a Nigerian princess? She seemed to recall him saying that on some occasion or other but the event escaped her. But in the time she had known him she had come to realize that her partner wasn't nearly the novice that she had branded him when they had first met. In fact, it hadn't taken long before her (to be honest) contempt had faded to be replaced by reluctant, if unspoken, respect.

"Where first?" Clark's whisper was a bare thread of sound.

"The construction area. We might as well look at the easiest part first."

Clark didn't answer but changed direction slightly. Remembering his extraordinary night vision, Lois followed. Her partner might wear glasses but she had discovered on a previous black bag job that he had the best night sight of anyone she'd ever known. Sure enough, they had gone barely a hundred feet when one of the yellow wooden barricades loomed out of the dimness, its reflective bands glowing faintly in the dark. They maneuvered around it and moved slowly into the area of broken pavement and piles of dirt and rocks.

Clark stopped. "Here," he said. "There's a ladder." He paused. "I'll go first," he added.

"Go ahead," Lois said. She crouched down on her heels to present less of a silhouette for anyone who might glance in the direction of the lot. "Hurry up."

"Right." Clark swung himself down the rungs of the ladder. Lois waited, pulling her jacket more tightly around herself. After a moment, she heard a faint whistle. She felt around, found the cold metal of the ladder and slid her feet over the edge of the hole. After a few seconds of fumbling, her foot touched a rung and she began her descent.

It was almost completely dark in the hole, for here even the starlight was blocked. She counted the rungs as she descended and as she reached forty-two her foot hit stone.

Stone. Her mind registered the fact. Not dirt.

A hand touched her arm very lightly, and Clark's voice said, "Back this way. Away from the opening."

She followed the tug of his hand, and a few steps along he stopped. "Cover your eyes."

She obeyed, but the flare of light against her eyelids almost made her jump. Slowly, she opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the light. Clark had turned his mag-light on low and was shielding it with one hand, allowing only a tiny beam of light to escape.

Lois blinked away the sudden watering of her eyes, letting them adjust to what was actually very faint light. Clark had turned the flash away from her, shining it on rough stone walls. Lois squinted around at what she could see of the place. "What's this? Some kind of subway tunnel or something?"

"I don't think so," Clark said. "Let's take a look around."

The tunnel stretched away in both directions, featureless. The walls were rough concrete, and now that she looked, the stone floor wasn't really stone, but concrete as well, thoroughly tracked with muddy footprints. They moved along it as quietly as they could, heading, Lois thought, in the direction of the Cost Mart building.

The passage turned suddenly, ran on another hundred feet or so, and they were abruptly faced with a metal door, set in the stone. Lois carefully tried the doorknob.

"Locked," she whispered. "I don't see a keyhole."

"Probably bolted on the other side," Clark whispered back. "I think we're close to the Cost Mart store. I guess they didn't want anybody getting in by accident. Look." He shined the light on the door frame, revealing a small, black button.

"Doorbell," Lois said. "I guess we're supposed to ring for admittance. I don't think we'd better do that."

"Probably not," Clark agreed. "My question is: what do you suppose this tunnel is for?"

"It looks like some kind of secret entrance into Cost Mart. How far down are we?"

Clark looked around. "I'm not sure. Twenty, maybe thirty feet."

"So this leads into the basement of Cost Mart?"

"I think we're too far down for that. Maybe a sub-basement," Clark said. "Maybe tomorrow Jimmy could find us the plans for this place." He flashed the light around again, still keeping the light carefully shielded. "What do you want to do next?"

Lois had been thinking about that. "Well, there's nothing to stop us from going to see where the tunnel comes from, is there? Maybe that'll tell us why they have a secret entrance into their store. Do you suppose they could be smuggling in something?"

"I'd say that isn't impossible. Maybe even likely, if they're actually part of Intergang." Clark suited the action to the word, and several minutes later, they came again to the ladder by which they had found this place. Now they started in the other direction.

The tunnel ran relatively straight for some distance. The walls were rough concrete and here and there they encountered places where wooden timbers supported walls and ceiling. It looked as if the construction were still in progress in this part of the tunnel. In several places the walls were literally dirt, and in one spot it appeared there had been a small collapse. More wooden timbers braced the spot.

Just beyond that, the tunnel made a sharp turn to the right. Again it ran on straight for some distance and abruptly came to an end. They were faced with another ladder. They looked at each other. After a moment's pause, Clark handed her the mag-light. "Hold this. I'll go up and take a look," he said quietly.

Lois started to object, but the words froze in her throat at the sound of voices from above them. "Get the first box. I'll help lower it down."

"Wish they'd hurry and install the hoist," another voice said peppering the simple remark with four profanities. Lois sensed rather than saw Clark glance uneasily at her.

"Yeah. I'll be happier when they finish fixing this whole end," the first voice said, matching the previous speaker with several expletives of his own. "Every time I take the stuff through here, I'm afraid the ceiling's going to come down on me." From above came the scraping sound of something being lifted, and pale light sifted through the opening.

Clark tugged on Lois's arm and they retreated quickly in the direction from which they had just come. They rounded the corner and Lois stopped.

"Why are you stopping?" Clark whispered.

"I want to see what they're doing," she whispered back, twisting the mag-light to turn it off. Darkness descended at once, broken only by the small amount of light leaking past the turn in the tunnel. At once, she peeked around the wooden beam that braced the ceiling at this point to peer back at the exit.

In the low light, she saw the silhouette of a man swing down the ladder. He held a flashlight in one hand, which explained the source of the light, and now he turned to shine it upwards. Something came into view -- a good-sized box, lowered down on some kind of rope arrangement.

"Come on!" Clark whispered urgently.

Reluctantly, Lois yielded to his tug on her arm, and they started back the way they had come, but almost at once Lois saw, well up the tunnel, a flicker of light. Someone was coming toward them from that direction as well, holding a flashlight to light his way. They were trapped.

Clark's hand on her arm tightened, and then he was pulling her toward the area of the small cave-in. He tugged her back into the shadows of the timbers that had been placed there to support the crumbling wall, pulling her down to her hands and knees an instant later, and at once she realized his intention. Maybe, in the dimness of the tunnel, if they crouched down and were very quiet, they might not be seen.

The place where the fall of dirt had occurred was deeper and roomier than she had realized. Feeling with her hands so as not to hit anything and cause a further fall of dirt, Lois crawled forward a little farther, followed by Clark, and quite suddenly there was more room around them, and a musty smell that she couldn't identify.

The wall where the collapse had taken place had fallen in because there was an opening on the other side, she realized, after a confused second or two. There must be one of the old, disused subway tunnels back here, after all. It looked as if Murphy was looking the other way for once.

No. Clark was pulling her to her feet and tugging her away from the hole in the wall, and they were walking on real stone, this time, not concrete or dirt. The floor was rough, carved stone, as if someone had chipped this narrow little tunnel out of the living rock. In the very faint light of the nearly completely shielded mag-light, she could see that Clark was bending down to walk, as the roof was only a few inches higher than Lois's head.

"What is this place?" she whispered.

"I don't know." His voice was barely audible, and he abruptly switched off his light. "Sh."

Together, they paused in the pitch darkness, listening.

There was the sound of scuffling feet, unidentifiable thumps and muffled voices. Lois held perfectly still, one hand in Clark's, trying to breathe quietly as the sounds seemed to pause just beyond the crumbling entrance to the tunnel. She held her breath.

Then the sounds were retreating, and Lois found herself able to breathe again. "Whew! That was close!"

Clark also drew a deep breath. "A little too close for my taste."

"Lucky we found this tunnel. Where are we?"

Clark twisted on the mag-light again, still shielding the light with one hand, and flashed it cautiously around over the floor and walls. Then he bent closer to the rough stone wall, examining something. "Look."

"At what?"

He pointed at the wall. "Looks like some kind of primitive drawings."

Lois moved closer and examined what he had found in the beam of the mag-light. "What are they? Stone age drawings or something?"

"I don't know." Clark was frowning at the faded scrawls on the stone. "Didn't this area originally have an Indian tribe or something living here when the European settlers first came?"

Lois squinted at the faint lines scratched on the wall. "Yeah. They did. We studied them in third grade, I think. Is that what this is?"

"I think maybe so," Clark said. "The construction people must have broken through the wall when they started digging here. It's a good thing they didn't come in here and start messing it up. This could be a valuable archeological find for Metropolis."

Lois was less interested in the archeology of the tunnel than the modern criminals on the other side of the wall. "Do you think they're gone?"

Her partner covered his light again and moved back to the hole through which they had come. Lois followed, trying to make no noise at all.

A faint clang alerted her at once to the fact that someone else was approaching, followed at once by the mutter of voices. More men were moving around in the outer tunnel. Clark's light abruptly went off, leaving them in pitch darkness.

"Hurry up!" one voice was heard to growl. "They need to get the stuff moved down here before the prowl car comes around again."

-

More thumps and scraping sounds. Something thudded heavily to the floor. More sounds of effort and someone cursed fluently. Then, at last, she heard the sounds of retreating footsteps.

"Great," Lois whispered. "It sounds like there's going to be a lot of traffic through here for a while."

Approaching voices and footsteps underlined her observation.

Clark tugged on her hand, pulling her away from the opening. A short distance down the low tunnel, they stopped and he again turned on his light, shielding it with his hand.

"Now what?" Lois whispered.

"Well, maybe there's some other way out of here. The tunnel goes in both directions."

Lois regarded his face in the dim illumination of the shaded mag-light. "Optimistic, aren't you? But I guess checking around is better than sitting here waiting for hours. Can you manage? This place isn't exactly roomy."

Clark's lips twitched. "I noticed. I'll be fine. Which way?"

Lois shrugged. "Since we're here to check on Cost Mart, let's go toward it. Who knows -- maybe they've broken another hole in the tunnel somewhere."

"Your wish is my command." Clark turned and started in the direction that Lois judged to be the general direction in which the huge warehouse-sized store lay. If nothing else, she thought, maybe they could find more Indian artifacts. It might make a good story about the cultural history of Metropolis -- after they managed to figure out what was going on with this operation, of course. Whatever this was, there were three dead men to account for, very probably connected with it.

Every ten feet or so, Clark paused and flashed his light on the walls. The drawings or writings or whatever they were, were becoming denser and clearer as they progressed and now Lois began to recognize some of the symbols. There was a human figure in some kind of robes, and a little farther on a cross and as they went along, other rough drawings of a religious nature.

"Looks like the settlers converted some of the local inhabitants," Lois remarked softly. "Well, that makes sense. This wasn't exactly Plymouth Rock, but there were colonies all around here that came for religious freedom. I guess some of the indigenous people recorded some of the history of the early colony. I remember a little of it from my New Troy Social Studies in elementary school."

"Looks like it," Clark said. He ducked his head to avoid a particularly low patch of ceiling. He had uncovered his light now, and flashed it around the tunnel. There was a square opening in the tunnel on the left, and he flashed his light inside. "Looks like some kind of living quarters. You know, I think this whole area was leveled for industrial development about fifty years ago. There were hills here. I wonder if this was part of a native settlement or something."

"Could have been," Lois agreed. "They weren't nearly as worried about destroying historical stuff fifty years ago as they are now."

Clark flashed his light inside the room, illuminating walls and floor. Lois looked over his shoulder and drew back slightly at the sight.

Half a dozen wrapped forms lay on wooden platforms, and the shape of the forms told her without doubt that the forms were human. A rough wooden cross adorned the wall, and the stone walls were thick with the Indian hieroglyphs. The musty smell was much more pronounced than it had been farther back.

"That explains it," Clark said. "It's a burial ground. A crypt, of sorts. I'll bet if we were to explore this place, we'd find a lot of these."

"Yeah, well I'd like to get out of here," Lois said. "This is getting creepy."

"Yeah." Clark backed out of the room. They went on in silence, but a moment later their trip came to a stop. The tunnel ended in another room with more mummies, if that was what they were, Lois thought.

"I guess we go back the other way," Clark said after a moment.

"Yeah," Lois agreed. "Come on."

Part 5

Clark shut off his light again as they approached the area of the small gap between the crypt and the Cost Mart tunnel. It was probably a good thing they had come when they did, Lois thought. The construction crew would probably seal up the small slide in a few days before they had a serious problem, like a collapse or something. They stood still in the dark, listening.

There was still motion in the tunnel. Lois checked the glowing dial of her watch. It had been a good half hour since they had entered this place. How long were they going to be out there?

Clark's hand touched her arm and they moved past the slide, careful to make no sound in the pitch blackness. A short distance on and the shrouded light of Clark's mag-light came on again.

"I wonder if there are any more 'rooms'," Lois whispered.

"We passed four on the way back," Clark said. "I was looking. I guess nobody had any idea this was here. Like I said, they leveled this area for construction quite a while back. Either no one knew about the Indian burial ground, or they didn't care. I guess by this time the record -- if there ever was one -- is long gone."

"Well, it'll make a good story," Lois said. "That is, after we figure out what else is going on here."

She saw her partner's silhouette nod against the faintly illuminated stone. "I just hope there's another way out of here," Clark said. "I kind of doubt it, though, or things would likely have been disturbed. We're probably going to have to wait until they get finished with whatever they're doing. I don't think it can be legal, though. Did you hear what that one guy said about a prowl car?"

"Yeah. But maybe that means they'll hurry," Lois said hopefully. "I never liked mummy and vampire movies. Exploring crypts kind of creeps me out."

"How many crypts have you explored?" Clark asked. Even his whisper sounded amused.

Lois resisted the temptation to elbow him in the ribs. "This one. And I'm creeped out, believe me. If we walk right into Dracula, I won't even be surprised at this point."

The light slid over another opening in the wall. Lois resolutely turned her face away until they had passed it. The tunnel continued on, growing narrower and more cramped. They passed several more of the small rooms. Finally, they reached the end, a circular chamber somewhat more distinctive than the others. This one held a disintegrating mat of dried reeds on the floor, and a rough, wooden box disturbingly similar to a coffin in Lois's estimation. The markings on the wall were thicker than they had been in the other rooms, and a cloth tapestry, thin and faded with age, was fastened to the stone wall behind it. Lois took one look and averted her eyes.

"Hmm," Clark said. "This must have been for some important personage in the group. I wonder who he was."

"Would you believe I don't care?" Lois said. "I guess we're going to have to go back and wait for those characters to leave if we're going to get out any time soon."

"I guess." Clark was squinting at the markings on the tapestry. "I must be wrong. That can't mean what it looks like."

"You read this stuff?" Lois asked, somewhat incredulously. "Just like you read Chinese?"

"Not exactly," Clark said. "One summer I worked at a dig with an archaeologist who was studying Native American artifacts. I picked up some of the simpler stuff, but I've got to be reading that wrong. Something about' the sleeping one.' or something."

"Maybe they just meant it as a polite way to say somebody important was dead," Lois said.

"No," Clark said. He pointed. "See that symbol right above the squiggly lines? That definitely means sleep. The symbol for death is different. Or at least I think it is. And the next one means to awake. The one after that is something like 'fate' or something. The one after that is the death symbol. That little hook on the end makes it different from the symbol for sleep."

"If you say so," Lois said. "I don't see the difference."

"Whichever it is, it doesn't make much sense." Clark repeated. "I must be reading it wrong. The cloth is in pretty poor condition. It might have damaged some of the symbols."

"I hope so," Lois said, "Otherwise, the natives were talking about whoever is in that coffin waking back up, and that isn't possible. How long do you think all this stuff has been here?"

"Good question," Clark said. "Three or four hundred years, probably. If somebody was asleep here, he'd be long dead by now."

"Maybe," Lois said, "somebody was imprisoned alive in here. An enemy leader or something."

"I don't think so," Clark said. "The place looks like it was just sealed up and nobody touched it again until we came in."

"You're right," Lois said. She gave a one sided smile. "I guess the creep factor is making my imagination go a little nuts."

"Well," Clark said, "there's one way to be sure." He stepped forward into the room.

"What are you going to do?" Lois asked.

Carefully, Clark surveyed the rough, oblong box. "This thing isn't even sealed," he said. He slipped his fingers under the lid and lifted. His eyebrows rose slightly.

"What is it?" Lois asked.

"Come see," he said.

Lois hesitated . Up until now she'd been halfway joking, but she was darned if she was going to admit to Clark how much the whole idea was really raising the hair on the back of her neck. Steeling herself, she stepped forward into the room and looked.

Nothing met her gaze but a few layers of coarse, wrinkled cloth. Carefully, she let out her breath. "Nothing. If there was ever anything in here, it's gone. Maybe we aren't the first ones here after all."

Clark was frowning slightly. "There isn't even any dust on it," he said.

"Will you stop it?" Lois said, more sharply than she had intended. "I've seen enough of this place. After we wind up this thing, we can get experts in here and they can translate all of it. It ought to keep them busy for years. In the meantime, let's go back and wait for those guys to leave, okay?"

Clark glanced at her, and somehow she had the impression that he saw a good deal more than she wanted him to see, but all he said was, "Okay."

**********

The wait by the narrow slide area was shorter than Lois had expected, to her vast relief. She and Clark sat in utter silence on the tunnel floor, listening to the sounds of men transporting what must be fairly heavy boxes for perhaps fifteen minutes, and then the area grew quiet. Lois could see nothing in the pitch darkness, but after several minutes of silence, she felt Clark's hand on her wrist. "I think they're gone." His voice was a bare thread of sound. "I'm going to check."

"Be careful," she whispered.

He crawled past her, his legs brushing her jeans, She listened closely, but could hear only the very faintest of scraping sounds as he moved. Silence again.

Then his voice, pitched very low. "They're gone. Come on out."

The relief that surged through her was completely disproportional to the situation. Feeling with her hands, she found the opening and crawled through it. Light met her eyes at once as she emerged into the outer tunnel, and she knew that Clark had turned on his mag-light.

Her partner gave her a hand to her feet. "Shall we get out of here now?"

"Not a chance, Kent," she whispered. "I want to see where all that stuff came from. Let's go."

Clark shrugged. "Okay, but we don't know if anyone's still up there," he pointed out.

"So we'll be careful," Lois said. She turned back toward the bend in the tunnel and the ladder.

"At least let me go first," Clark said, as they paused at its foot.

"Okay, but watch your step."

"No, I was planning to go bursting up there like Rambo," he said dryly. Lois stifled a snort at the thought of Clark doing anything of the sort. Low key was her partner's specialty.

Clark handed her the light and went up the ladder with his own brand of silent grace. He paused at the top, evidently feeling around over his head, and then seemed to be listening. After several seconds, Lois heard a faint grating noise.

"Come on up," Clark's voice whispered. "There's nobody here."

Lois tucked the light into her pocket, felt around for the rungs and began to climb. Once, she banged her foot painfully on one of the metal rungs, but at last there were no more rungs, and Clark's hand was grasping hers as she emerged from the tunnel into a slightly less dark space of some kind, an alcove that opened into a larger room. A window opened on a palely lit stretch of sand, and she could see the reflection of the Moon on water beyond it. To the right of the window was a closed and bolted door.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

"I'm not sure. Some kind of building." Clark carefully closed the trap door behind her.

"Let's take a look and see," Lois said.

Clark raised his head and then, so quickly she was startled, pulled her down against the wall, under the window.

A flashlight shone through the glass an instant later. It traveled across the floor and around the room for nearly a minute and just as suddenly was gone. Lois and Clark remained kneeling against the wall for a long count of one hundred and then Clark released her. "Sorry," he whispered. "There wasn't time to warn you."

Lois told her heart to stop racing. "No problem."

"Building Security, I think," Clark said. He got quietly to his feet, keeping out of the line of sight from the window, and carefully peeked around the edge of the frame. "Yeah, I thought so."

"What?"

"That's Mariner's Cove out there."

Mariner's Cove was a section of Hob's Bay that dipped inward from the main bay, with a sloping sandy beach, and the strip of land between Old Town and the beach itself had been turned into a small but elegant resort for some of the more well-off citizens of Metropolis.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"We're right on the water?" Lois whispered.

"Yeah. Take a look. There's the private pier for this duplex," he said.

"You know, I wondered if it might be smuggling," Lois said. "What could they be bringing in?"

"Could be anything," Clark said, "but whatever was in those boxes was heavy."

"Weapons? Drugs?"

"We're going to have to find out," Clark said. "But first we need to get out of here without getting caught. There's not supposed to be anyone in these places at this time of year."

"Which way did the security guy go?" Lois got to her feet, her rubber soles silent on the wooden floor.

"I don't see him." Clark pressed his face to the glass, trying to see as much of the area as he could. "There's a small house on one side of us, about a hundred feet away," he said. "It looks like this is the last house in the row. Wait -- I see a light. He's headed away to our left. Let's go."

"How about the prowl car?" Lois asked.

"The road's on the other side of the house, I think, but I don't see any headlights lighting up the place." Clark said. "My guess is that it's come and gone. Once we're out of here they at least can't charge us with breaking and entering if they catch us."

Lois had to agree with the reasoning. Clark opened the door silently, took another quick look around, and they slipped outside. Clark gently closed the door behind them.

Lois looked quickly around, but there was no sign of life. She almost jumped when a seagull screeched a minute later.

"Guess we're disturbing the local wildlife," Clark whispered. "We'd better make tracks."

"Before we do I want to get this place's address," Lois said. "Just in case we have to come back."

"Okay, but hurry."

Part 6

Rounding the corner of the house some few minutes later, Lois looked around carefully for guards, or any sign of the advertised prowl car, but she saw nothing. The house number was located prominently on the right side of the door, and she copied it quickly.

"Hey!" A flashlight pinned her against the door, and she saw the pudgy form of the security guard lumbering toward them. "You two stop right there!"

Needless to say, the Hottest Team in Town did nothing of the kind. Clark grabbed her hand and the two of them ran. The street dividing the little beach resort from the rest of Old Town was only sparsely traveled at this time of night, and they fled across it as fast as they could move, dodging the two cars that happened to be traversing the thoroughfare. Only one driver slammed on his brakes and blew his horn indignantly, but they gained the opposite sidewalk intact and fled toward the main avenue that intersected it a short distance away.

Casting a look over her shoulder, Lois saw that the guard had given up the pursuit and was leaning against a streetlamp, apparently trying to catch his breath. They rounded the corner on flying feet and slowed down at once to a casual walk. No point in attracting the attention even of the two or three lone individuals in sight.

"Whew!" Clark said. "I think we lost him."

Lois laughed a little hysterically. "At least one thing went right."

"What do you want to do now?"

She looked at him in astonishment. "We need to go back to Cost Mart. I need to know what was in all those boxes. I'm guessing weapons, from the weight, but I could be wrong."

"You're probably right," Clark said, "but there's likely a lot of people still milling around inside. Maybe we should try coming back during the day. If we go in with a lot of shoppers, we might have a better chance of getting in without them noticing. I mean," he added, "they just smuggled whatever it is into the store. It's probably not going any farther tonight."

Lois had to think about that, before reluctantly admitting that he had a valid point. "But I still want to be sure they're not shipping whatever it is out once they got it into the store," she said. "Let's get the Jeep and just sort of park across from the lot, and watch them for a while."

"In the shadows," Clark specified. "Where they can't tell if anyone's in the car."

She cast him an exasperated look. "Nah, I was thinking of driving up to the front door and asking if we could help them move their smuggled goods! Don't try to teach Grandma how to knit, country boy."

Clark snorted. "You've been hanging around me too much, city girl."

The SUV, naturally, was parked two blocks on the other side of Cost Mart from their current location, but they made a point to pass near the big box store to see if any obvious activity was taking place. The parking lot was in darkness. There was no sign of life, although Lois was quite sure that inside the store there was a good deal of action going on.

A shadowy figure bearing a flashlight strolled casually around the building's corner and ambled at no great speed across the store front, flashing his light around in a careless way. Other than that, Lois could see no sign of life.

Clark was fiddling with his glasses. "Store security," he whispered. "I don't see anyone else, do you?"

Lois shook her head. "No. Let's see if we can get a look through the windows."

"I thought we were going to get the Jeep."

"We are. This will just take a minute."

But, as might have been predicted, the side windows of the building were locked and shuttered. Old Town's Cost Mart, to all appearances, was deserted and closed up tight.

They looked at each other.

"Okay," Lois conceded. "You go get the Jeep. I'll wait and watch the store until you get back."

"Are you crazy?" Clark whispered. "We know there are a bunch of smugglers inside this place! I'm not leaving you here alone!"

She glared back at him unapologetically. "I'll be fine! Besides, somebody's got to watch until the other one gets back with the car, and if anything goes wrong I can defend myself better than you can, unless you've been taking secret Tae Kwon Do lessons! Hurry up! The sooner you go, the sooner you'll get back!"

Clark stared back at her, frustration evident in his expression, and she knew she had won. "Go on! Hurry up! If anybody comes out we're going to need the Jeep to follow him!"

Clark hesitated and she thought he was gritting his teeth. "All right," he said finally, "but I'm not leaving until you're across the street, out of sight of anybody in that place that decides to check."

"I'll be fine," she repeated, her command none the less fierce for being uttered in a whisper. "Go!"

"Not until you're away from this building," Clark said stubbornly. "That's final!"

Once in a while, when Clark felt strongly about something, nothing she could say was going to move him, and Lois had begun to recognize when she had reached that point. This was one of those times.

"All right!" she whispered back angrily. Without hesitation, she headed for the crosswalk and marched across the street, barely pausing to allow the traffic light to change. Clark hurried after her. She strode toward the corner and rounded it, pausing in the shelter of the canopy of a long-since closed restaurant. "There!" she said, looking challengingly at him. "I can see the place without them seeing me. Now will you go?"

Behind his worried expression, she could swear she could see a grin lurking. "All right, but please don't go any closer until I get back. Promise?"

"All right, I promise," she said in exasperation. "Now go on!"

Clark looked at her for another long moment and then nodded. "Okay. But I'll need the keys."

"Oh." She fished them out of the pocket of her jacket and dropped them into his hand. "There. Go."

Without another word, he turned and jogged away. Lois watched him until he crossed the street and vanished around the corner, half a block from her position. Silence, except for the much reduced and mostly distant sounds of traffic, and the occasional short blasts of wind, descended.

The street wasn't exactly deserted, since Metropolis never actually slept, but there were only one or two pedestrians within sight, and none of them were less than a block from her. Every now and then a car rolled down the street, but they were scarce as well. Standing in the shadow of the closed and shuttered restaurant, out of the pool of light from the nearest of Old Town's light poles, for the first time Lois became aware of the near quiet that reigned around her, and the shadows that lay between the pools of yellow light cast by the old-fashioned street lamps. The breeze that gusted erratically between the buildings was chilly, and she pulled her coat more snugly around her. Unexpectedly, she found herself hoping that Clark wouldn't take long. The area was somehow more intimidating without the solid bulk of her partner beside her.

Knock it off, Lois! she told herself. She had done this kind of thing before Clark had become her partner, and she was more experienced now. Certainly, no mugger was going to catch her by surprise where she stood, and even if someone tried, she could handle it. She was a week away from taking her test for Tae Kwon Do black belt at the dojang. Unless somebody showed up with a gun, she could handle stray assailants. Besides, Clark would be back in minutes with the Jeep. There was no reason to get nervous, just because she was standing here on a dim street of Old Town, by herself at -- she glanced at her watch -- two-fifteen in the morning.

From somewhere she heard the faintest hint of flapping of wings and twisted her head around to try to locate the sound. Probably a pigeon roosting somewhere in the eaves of the building behind her, she thought. Unbidden, the image of that rough, wooden coffin in that little stone room below the surface of the Cost Mart parking lot came to mind. Instantly, she banished the image. Vampires didn't exist, and even if they did, there were no legends of vampires among the Native American Indians.

But that crypt had shown signs of European influence, too, she reminded herself. So the European settlers had been here when that crypt was dug.

But that had no relation to anything, she reminded herself. Superstitions couldn't hurt anyone, and that was all this vampire thing was. Those bodies in the park had been put there by some human agency -- one that liked to play games. Probably the culprits were inside Cost Mart right at this very minute, figuring that they had confused the police.

Another rustling of wings and more flapping, louder this time. Lois strained her ears, trying to discover where the sound was coming from. And then --

From somewhere above her, something large went by in a rush of air. Lois felt it rather than saw it. She ducked, which was silly, she reminded herself a second later. She was under a canopy, and nothing was going to descend on her from above without some kind of warning. She moved forward so that she could peer upward in the direction the thing had gone, but she could see nothing against the cloudy sky.

The flapping of wings had gone silent, she realized, all at once. There was no motion around her at all.

Her spine prickling, Lois backed under the canopy, as far back against the stone of the building as she could. It had probably been an owl, she thought, but if there was something out there, like that thing that Bobby Bigmouth had described, the thing that he thought had killed his friend, she wasn't going to help it surprise her. Whatever that had been, it certainly hadn't been Superman.

Motion out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she drew in a gasp of relief, when she saw the Jeep turn the corner and roll toward her. Clark pulled up next to her hiding spot and in an instant Lois yanked the passenger door open, jumped into the cab and slammed the door behind her, locking it all in one motion.

"What's the matter?" Clark asked at once.

"Nothing," Lois said. "It's cold out there when you aren't moving around."

The look he gave her told her he didn't believe the explanation for a minute, but she had no intention of letting him know that her imagination had been getting the best of her out there in the dark. Whatever that had been that had swooped past her had probably been an owl or something. She'd seen them at night occasionally when driving past Centennial Park. Didn't they eat mice or something? There were bound to be mice around the bay and in a part of the city so given over to little outside coffee shops and snack stands, so there were probably owls here, too. Determinedly, she shoved the incident to the deeper recesses of her mind and directed her attention to the business at hand. "Find a place to park where we can watch the doors and the parking lot for a little while and where they can't see us very well. Once we're sure they're not going anywhere tonight, we can go home."

"I'm all for that," Clark said. "I think we've found more than enough for one night. I just don't think they'll risk moving whatever it is right now. A bunch of trucks driving around Metropolis's streets at two-thirty in the morning is bound to get somebody's attention. I'd think they've got some other scheme to dispose of their contraband."

"Yeah, probably." Lois wasn't about to admit that she was pretty tired. It had been a very tiring evening, filled with unexpected developments, and she was ready to go home, crawl into bed, and catch some sleep. But first things first. "But we're going to be sure. I'm not losing this story because Bill Senior or his little boy decided to put one over on the Metro Police and move out their contraband before anyone could get a warrant to search the place."

"Okay, okay." Clark drove cautiously around the block, and when he returned to the street that ran across in front of Cost Mart, he turned left instead of right, let the car roll to a stop in the shadow of a tall evergreen tree, fifteen feet from the corner, and cut the motor.

Lois relaxed. Somehow, sitting safely in the cab of the Jeep, with Clark sitting next to her, all the nervousness she had felt earlier was gone. They sat still in the darkened vehicle, watching the Cost Mart store.

Silence descended. The street grew quieter, although the occasional lone passersby went past the Jeep, walking briskly along the sidewalk. There was no activity to be seen at the Cost Mart.

At last, when three-thirty had come and gone, Lois was forced to concede that there would probably be no more action tonight. She yawned behind her hand. "Let's go," she said through the yawn, "I'm thinking more about my warm bed than anything else right now."

"You got it." Clark turned on the engine, backed carefully out of their hidden parking space, turned on the lights and moved slowly and carefully forward on the street.

As he turned the corner, the headlights illuminated a single figure standing on the sidewalk. A man wearing a dark suit and a dark, form-fitting overcoat. He lifted his head and Lois saw a face that she would not forget for some time.

The face was narrow and pale, with dark, piercing eyes and a head of thick, black hair. As the headlights flashed across his features, he ducked his face, shading his eyes, half covering it with the lapel of his form-fitting, black coat. Then, he stepped swiftly backward out of the passing lights and was gone.

Part 7

"You don’t have to walk up with me," Lois protested, but her voice lacked conviction, and Clark frowned slightly. He hadn't said anything about her precipitous entrance into the Jeep an hour and a half ago, nor did he comment now, but she suspected he was thinking a great deal. Clark wasn't stupid, and he probably knew her better than -- well, just about anyone.

Instead, his expression changed to the faintest of smiles and he put his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "You know me," he said. "When I escort a lady home, it's full service."

"You haven't changed a bit since last year," she said, recalling the last time he had escorted her back to her apartment when she had been more than a little worried about the consequences to her of an investigation, although she would have died before she admitted it to a rookie reporter, as she had erroneously pegged him at the time. And she almost had. That time, he had shown up the next morning just in time to save her life, and she had subsequently discovered, although he didn't know it, that he had almost certainly spent the previous night staking out her apartment. If it hadn't been for that, Mr. Makeup would have brought an abrupt end to her career.

"All right, come on," Lois said. To tell the truth, having Clark's solid form beside her was enormously reassuring as they proceeded up the steps and into the deserted entrance hallway of her apartment house. The sound of the elevator descending a moment or two later when she pressed the button, reminded Lois that elevators were good places for assailants to hang out, so Clark wasn't going to get an argument here, either. Normally, she wasn't so chicken-hearted, she rationalized, but this had been the kind of evening that was likely to give her uneasy dreams tonight. It was okay to be just a little edgy.

The memory of the lone man on the sidewalk near Cost Mart came to mind. He was probably just an innocent passerby, but the image stuck with her and for some reason the picture gave her chills on the back of her neck. Admittedly, vampires weren't supposed to be able to enter a building without invitation from an inhabitant, but that prohibition had no effect on general run-of-the-mill criminals, and the events of the day, as well as the night, had left her feeling just a little bit skittish. Intergang was definitely up to something, and it was certainly a lot more dangerous than any mythical member of the undead. She didn't think that she or Clark had given them any reason to be suspicious but you never knew.

The car arrived after a minute or two and Clark let her enter first, shoved his glasses back into place and followed. Lois pressed the button numbered "5" and they waited. The doors slid decrepitly shut and the elevator began to rise.

"I want to go back there tomorrow," Lois said.

"I figured," Clark said. "Let's make it a little later in the day, though -- say about the time that there's likely to be a rush of shoppers."

Lois nodded. "After work -- say about four-thirty. I figure we can go in to work about noon, after we've had a little sleep. I want to be at my best when we try this."

"Good idea." Clark looked faintly relieved. "Maybe Jimmy can do a little work on locating the plans for that building, too. We know there has to be a sub-basement. Maybe he can find out where the entrance is."

"I'll call him in the morning," Lois said. She yawned behind her hand as the elevator came to a creaky halt and the doors scraped open. Clark let her exit ahead of him, and followed her down the hallway.

The hall was dim. Lois hadn't been too happy when the building's owners had installed dimmer switches to help save electricity, but so far there hadn't been any untoward consequences. No muggings or anything had occurred to disturb any of the tenants. Still, the dim passage made the memory of that shadowy crypt, and the crude wooden coffin rise suddenly in her mind and she was silently glad that Clark accompanied her to her door. Not that she really had any fears of vampires rising from their coffins to feast on the living, but it had been a creepy evening. She stopped in front of her door and unlocked the series of locks before opening it.

The lights were out, of course, and Clark reached past her to snap on the switch by the entrance. The warm yellow light sprang to life at once and they stepped inside. Clark glanced unobtrusively around.

"Everything looks okay," he said.

"No reason it shouldn't," Lois said. She yawned again. "I'd invite you in for coffee, but I'm going straight to bed. Are you sure you prefer to walk? I would have driven you home first if you wanted me to."

"But that way I couldn't have seen you to your door," Clark pointed out. He crossed the room to check her window and nodded when he discovered it to be locked. He pulled the curtains firmly. "Good night, Lois. Get some sleep."

"I will," she said. "Good night, Clark."

He stepped outside and waited while she closed the door, and only then did she hear his footsteps retreat down the hallway. She turned the locks, smiling faintly. Clark was so obvious, sometimes. She'd thought he was a little spooked, and she was right. It was just like him to make sure she was safely inside before he left.

Well, it was well past time for her to be in bed. Lois crossed to her bedroom and snapped on the bedroom light, before turning off the switch by her bedroom door that also extinguished the living room light. Somehow, once Clark was gone, the apartment had an empty feel to it that she hadn't been aware of before. She checked her bedroom window and made sure the shade was pulled before she changed quickly into her flannel pajamas. Of course, they weren't particularly glamorous, but after she had seen a photo in the Planet of a hapless woman descending a ladder clad only in a bedraggled negligee while fire decimated her apartment building, Lois had made certain that she was always decently clad even at night, especially in the winter, and had a robe close by, just in case. Somehow the notion of Superman seeing her scrambling awkwardly down a ladder, while most of Metropolis got a good look at her clad only in semi-transparent lace and goose-bumps, didn't appeal to her at all.

She brushed her teeth quickly, made a few swipes at her hair with the hairbrush and went to switch off the bedroom light.

The living room window rattled and every faculty she possessed went on the alert. Perhaps it was the evening she had spent sneaking around in underground crypts, but all of a sudden her scalp was crawling.

It was probably just the wind, she thought. Or maybe Superman had flown by. He sometimes did, she knew. She had seen him late one night last summer when she had been doing research, with the windows partially open to cool the room, and Superman had drifted down to float outside the window to ask if she was all right.

But somehow she didn't feel at all like opening the curtains to check tonight. Besides, if he wanted to talk to her, he'd probably knock.

Again the faint rattle came, and then nothing. She waited, listening for several minutes, but whatever it had been seemed to have stopped.

Lois closed and locked her door and crawled into bed. After a moment, she switched on the lamp on her night stand.

The room looked exactly the same. There was nothing to alarm her, and yet her nerves were still tingling. She knew this mood. She wasn't going to get much sleep until she worked out what had set her on edge. Telling herself that she was being spooked by an overactive imagination wasn't going to help, either.

Fifteen minutes later, she was still wide awake. Fatigue pulled at her, but sleep was still very far away.

Lois got out of bed and went to her dresser. Her jewelry case sat there with rings, bracelets, chains, earrings, a string of pearls and a pendent tangled together in the bottom.

In a small compartment on one side, however, was something she hadn't looked at in years. A tiny, silver cross on a thin, slightly tarnished silver chain, it had been a gift from her grandmother one Christmas.

Lois took it out, carefully untangled the chain and contemplated it. It was silly, of course, but what was the harm?

She unfastened the catch, slipped the chain around her neck and, with some fumbling, refastened the catch. Then, feeling somewhat shamefaced, she returned to bed, pulled the covers up and determinedly extinguished the bedside lamp.

In less than three minutes, she was sound asleep.

**********

In the light of late morning, when Lois crawled out of bed, her fears of the night before seemed a little silly. She brushed her teeth, got dressed and arranged her hair, eyeing the silver chain and its tiny silver cross thoughtfully.

If she wore it to work today, was Clark likely to tease her about it if he noticed it? Once, while she was scrubbing an upper molar and again while she was brushing the hair in the back and contemplating its length, she had the impulse to remove the chain, but in the end she left it on and simply tucked it beneath the neck of her knit sweater.

Okay, she thought a little defiantly, so it wasn't something she usually wore. Why shouldn't she wear it today? And if Clark dared to make the slightest remark about it, she was perfectly capable of putting him in his place. It had nothing to do with coffins or bodies drained of blood, strange-looking men in dark coats, or hidden crypts under the Cost Mart parking lot. She just felt like wearing her grandmother's gift. Was there anything wrong with that?

Stepping out into the open a short time later, she discovered that the cold, crisp night last night had morphed into a damp, gray, cloudy day with a light scattering of tiny snowflakes floating lazily down. She clutched her coat tightly at her throat and unlocked the door of the Jeep quickly. A few moments later, she was traversing the snowy streets of Metropolis toward the Daily Planet.

Fortunately, the morning rush hour was past. Pulling up to a light, she put her foot on the brake, only to discover that in the slush of snow melting on the pavement, that she suddenly had no brakes. The Jeep slid forward into the intersection and an oncoming Volkswagen had to swerve to avoid her.

The blue and red figure that appeared in front of the sliding vehicle almost startled her. Superman brought her to a stop and stepped around quickly to the window. After a shocked pause, Lois lowered the glass.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes." Lois found herself slightly breathless and told her heart to slow down. "Thanks. I didn't realize how slippery the road was."

"I've been trying to prevent accidents all morning," he said. "It's always this way with the first snow of the season. There's fender-benders all over the city. Be careful driving the rest of the way to work. It's just as bad farther on."

"I will. Is the other driver all right?"

"He's fine. Be careful, all right?" Superman stepped back and moved quickly to stop another car that tried at that moment to slide into her. "Better get going. You're blocking the intersection."

Lois rolled up the window and crept away at half the speed limit. Behind her, someone blew his horn in exasperation, and a moment later a station wagon tore past her, spraying her windshield with snow. The next instant, the brake lights of the other vehicle came on and the car skidded, its back end fishtailing as the driver tried to stop.

Lois turned right, leaving the other driver to his fate. Why on Earth couldn't people be more careful? Most of the accidents this morning could probably be avoided if the drivers would exercise some elementary caution!

She turned another corner, cut down a narrow alley and emerged onto the street in front of the Daily Planet, and moments later was parking the Jeep in the Daily Planet's lot, under the building. Maybe, she thought, she and Clark could take the bus over to Cost Mart today. Not only did she want to try to sneak into the sub-basement and see if she could locate the smuggled goods that had come in last night, but she wanted to have another try at interviewing the manager. Surely Henderson had talked to him by now. Not that she expected to get anything truthful out of the man, but it was possible that they could learn something he didn't intend to tell them if she was clever enough.

**********

Naturally, when she reached the newsroom, Clark was nowhere to be seen. She dropped her purse beside her desk and glanced around. "Jimmy!"

Jimmy was crossing the Pit with a large box of doughnuts. "Yeah?" he inquired.

"Have you seen Clark?"

"Yeah. He was here for a little while, but he ran out about half an hour ago and hasn't got back yet."

That figured. Lois checked her watch. It would be the lunch hour in forty minutes, and the perfect time to go into Cost Mart with the crowd of lunch time shoppers, and of course Clark was missing.

She picked up her purse. Well, she was just going to have to go by herself. She didn't want to miss the opportunity to find out what that batch had been bringing in last night. Clark would figure out where she'd gone when he got back, and if he was lucky he'd join her in time to help her do some snooping.

"When Clark gets back," she told Jimmy, "tell him I've gone to check into that stuff we discussed last night. He'll know what I mean."

"If you mean Cost Mart, I haven't had the time to get the plans yet," Jimmy said. "Clark said you were going over there after work."

"I figure lunch hour should be even better," she said. "There'll be more customers around. Don't forget to let Clark know, if he gets back in time."

"But --" Jimmy's voice trailed off uncertainly. Lois paid no attention to his feeble protest. With a brisk step, she headed for the elevator.

Part 8

In the end, Lois drove her Jeep to Cost Mart.

The snow was coming down more heavily than it had been earlier and instead of a coating of half-melted slush on the sidewalks and in the gutters, an actual layer of white crystals was beginning to collect on awnings and to form little snowdrifts against buildings. It looked as if the first snow of the season was going to be more than a foot note in the weather report tonight, she thought, as she left the Daily Planet. Superman must be having a good time, trying to prevent accidents.

Lois considered the options of catching one of the crowded city buses, no doubt packed to bursting with damp people, versus taking a cab, driven by a cab driver who treated the snow as a mere inconvenience and his car as one of the flying vehicles out of the Jetsons, and decided that if she was going to risk her neck that it would be in her own Jeep. Besides, one never knew when one was going to have to make a hasty exit, and trying to flag down a cab at such a time was bound to be more than a little awkward.

The parking lot at Cost Mart was very crowded, which meant, Lois thought with satisfaction, that the store was going to be crowded as well. All to the good. It took her more than ten minutes to find a spot, which she grabbed without courtesy when a Ford pulled out of a space, beating another car to the punch and narrowly avoiding a collision as she did so. Ignoring the colorful comments of the other driver, as well as the single digit salute he threw her way, Lois pulled triumphantly into the spot.

Shoppers streamed through the store's main doors in an unending mass. Lois joined the crowd and entered the big building apparently unremarked by any of the employees. Grabbing a cart, she rolled it down the first aisle, trying to look the same as the hundreds of other patrons rushing into the discount store, searching for bargains during their lunch break. Passing a shelf offering mouthwash, Lois appropriated a bottle at random, and a moment later a bottle of aspirin. A real customer was going to have merchandise in her cart so, to blend in, she needed it as well.

From her previous visit, she knew that the manager's office was in the back of the store, reached through a door adorned with an authoritative sign reading: "Employees Only". Lois worked her way through the mob of shoppers, pausing now and then to throw some small item into her cart, until she had reached a spot from which she could see the door that opened onto the hallway that led to the office of the manager and whoever else might be in some position of responsibility here.

There were, of course, two employees presently within sight, who would be certain to see her, Lois thought in disgust, if she attempted to go through that apparently hallowed door. She stopped before a shelf displaying several different brands of bug spray, and pretended to be examining the offered products. It was too bad, she thought belatedly, that Clark wasn't with her. He was good at creating diversions when she needed to get in somewhere without being seen.

Well, she was just going to have to figure out how to get past them by herself.

Lois replaced the can of bug spray on the shelf and continued on down the aisle, closely inspecting the wares displayed on the shelves. Maybe the employees would leave on their own. One of them was sweeping the area of floor in front of the door through which she wished to pass. The other was apparently changing the prices on the items on the bottom shelf next to the door. Neither showed any sign of going away any time soon.

Lois glanced casually around, and after a moment's inspection she verified what she had suspected. Although they were inconspicuously placed, there were surveillance cameras in strategic spots around the store: Security here was tight, which made sense, considering the variety of clientele that patronized Cost Mart. Anything out of the ordinary that she did was going to be observed. Unless ….

The ladies' room a short distance away wouldn't have cameras.

Without further internal debate, Lois turned in the direction of the washroom. Leaving her cart by the door, right against the wall where it was unlikely to impede traffic and might thereby draw attention, she entered the ladies' room.

There was someone in one of the four toilet stalls and another woman brushing her hair in front of the sink. Lois glanced upward, striving to assure herself that there were no viewing devices evident, but could discover none. Well, at least they seemed to be allowing their customers some level of privacy. Lois entered one of the stalls. In her purse, she had the equipment to create her distraction. Now, all she needed was the opportunity.

After a moment, she heard footsteps and the bathroom door opened and closed. That was probably the woman who had been brushing her hair. That left one woman in the bathroom stall ….

The toilet flushed and after a moment she heard footsteps again. The water came on. Various noises told her that the unknown woman was washing her hands. She would probably leave shortly. Now, if no one else came in ….

The water went off and Lois heard the rattle of the paper towel dispenser. Then footsteps and the sound of the door again.

In an instant, Lois was out of the stall. In her hands was a ball of wadded up paper towel and a bottle of fingernail polish remover. She stuffed the wad of paper into the trash container, typically filled nearly to overflowing with paper towels. Without pausing, she twisted the lid from the bottle of polish remover and dumped it over the paper ball, saturating it. In the metal container, in the tile-lined room, no fire was likely to go far, especially with the sprinklers that she had already noted, installed in the ceiling, but the metal swinging door and domed lid of the container should prevent it from being put out too soon. It would set off the fire alarm and/or the smoke detector, which might very well draw the employees away from their very inconvenient posts for a few vital moments.

She always carried a cheap lighter in her purse in case of emergency. Now she flicked it on, lit another paper towel, pushed the little swinging door of the container open and dropped it atop the lighter-soaked ball of paper towel.

The paper lit instantly and flame burst upward as the lighter fluid caught. Lois wedged the metal door partially open with another wadded towel, turned and walked to the door, exited casually and reclaimed her cart. Trying not to look as if she were hurrying, she steered it quickly back toward the doorway that was her first goal, expecting at any second to hear the wail of the fire alarm.

But she reached her destination without any sign of her sabotage bearing results at all. She considered with mild dismay, the possibility that it had gone out instead of lighting the paper towels in the trash container, and stood, apparently studying (again) the various brands of bug spray. She was comparing a can that promised to exterminate roaches, termites and ants to another that promised to eliminate those pests in addition to fleas, spiders and flying insects as well, when the shriek of the siren nearly made her jump out of her shoes.

The results, however, were all that she could have wished. People looked around frantically, then dropped whatever they were doing and converged on the source of the alarm. Even shoppers trailed after the employees rushing toward the ladies' room. Lois smelled the smoke from the burning damp paper towels. It seemed as if her sabotage had been effective after all. And if she was lucky, it would distract the attention of the persons monitoring the cameras as well.

Without hesitation, she abandoned her cart and walked briskly toward the door that led into the back sections of Cost Mart.

**********

Having been here the previous morning, she identified without difficulty the office of the manager. Lois went past the door without a pause or a glance, scanning the area for any indication of a way into the basement of Cost Mart.

There was none in sight on first sight, but ahead the corridor ended in a T crossing, which went right and left. Lois hurried to the intersection and looked quickly both ways.

To her left was a very ordinary sign that announced the elevator and beside it, the stairwell.

She turned left. As she approached the elevator the bell signaling the arrival of the car rang sharply and she heard the distinctive sound of compressed air that announced the opening of the doors.

It was too late to hide. Lois stood still, trying to look as if she belonged. The doors slid aside and a man emerged.

Lois gave him a casual glance and moved past him into the elevator. He was a short, dark man, dressed neatly in jeans and a green T-shirt with the logo of Cost Mart on the left breast. He barely looked at her, but moved down the hall in the direction of the main store. Lois looked over the control panel and punched the button for the basement.

The elevator moved downward, and an instant later stopped with a soft sigh of air in what was purportedly the basement of Cost Mart. The doors opened.

The hallway beyond the elevator doors was white-walled and otherwise featureless. Lois stepped out, listening closely for sounds.

Somewhere, not far away to her left, she could hear voices and the sounds of people moving around. Would there be a way to access the sub-basement that she knew was here? Probably, but it might not be obvious. Still --

Lois turned right, away from the voices and other sounds, toward a place where the hallway branched, going left and right. Perhaps, if she looked around, she could find some other way down. There didn't seem to be much in the way of activity down in this direction, so maybe that would be where they would hide a secret stairway or something.

The intersecting hallway, when she reached it, was deserted and quiet, and led to a series of doors in each direction. Lois turned arbitrarily right and moved quickly to the first door. Pushing it open, she saw it apparently led to a storeroom where large crates stood ready for unpacking. The next, somewhat farther down the same direction, was more or less the same. The hallway ended beyond the next door in a pair of wide doors that opened on another dimly lighted room. Large wooden crates were stacked against one wall, and stacks of pallets and cardboard boxes were piled about the room. An aisle-truck, its fork stacked with several boxes, was parked beside a pair of doors that apparently marked a freight elevator.

That might be what she was looking for, of course, but she could come back to check once she had verified that the hallway in the other direction held nothing of interest. Lois turned and retraced her steps to the place where the corridor branched.

The passage in the other direction was short. It turned to the right, jogged right again in a short dog-leg and ended in a blank wall. Lois stopped. This was to say the least of it, unexpected.

As she hesitated, the apparently blank wall began to move, sliding silently aside, revealing a lighted interior, and three men, standing within. For an instant, no one moved, and then Clarence Brunner, the manager of this branch of Cost Mart, followed by two other men, exited. Beyond them, before the door slid shut, Lois could see that the small, lighted room was actually an elevator. She had, apparently, found the way to the sub-basement. Unfortunately, the circumstances were not exactly ideal.

Lois stood still. The Cost Mart manager regarded her expressionlessly.

"Miss Lane," he said. "I see you found it necessary to explore the premises on your own. That was very unfortunate."

Lois backed away a step. "The last I heard, trespassing wasn't a federal crime."

Brunner smiled faintly. "Trespassing? Of course not."

"Well," Lois said, "if you're going to call the police and arrest me, get on with it."

Brunner shook his head. "I'm afraid not." He nodded to one of the men. "Bring her along."

Lois found each of her arms being grasped by an unsmiling man. The sliding door to the elevator opened again and Clarence Brunner stepped back within, followed by Lois and her captors. The panel slid shut.

"Hey!" Lois said. "What are you doing? Are you crazy?"

The manager didn't answer. The elevator dropped slowly and came to a stop.

"This way." The doors slid open and the man led the way down another hallway and paused beside a section of blank wall. Brunner stepped between her and the wall and Lois heard a faint beeping sound. The wall slid silently aside and she was pushed unceremoniously through into a small, square room.

"What are you doing?" Lois protested. "All I did was --"

Brunner smiled without humor. "Miss Lane, I don't have time to fool around with snoopy reporters. You found too much for me to let you go free. I'll have to consult with my superiors to decide what to do with you. There's no way out of that room without the key, so I advise you to behave." He stepped backward, and the door slid shut with a soft click of finality. Lois was alone.

**********

"Where did she say she was going?" Clark asked, a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

"You know Lois," Jimmy said. "She said to tell you she'd gone to investigate what you were discussing last night. I think she meant the Cost Mart you guys staked out. I know you said you were going there after work, but she said she thought the lunch hour would be even better."

"Oh, great." Clark knew better by now to even doubt that Lois would do any such thing. Of course she would. "How long has she been gone?"

Jimmy glanced at the wall clock. "She left about noon It's been nearly four hours."

"I'd better go over there and see if I can find her," Clark said. "If she gets back before I do, page me, okay?"

"Sure," Jimmy said. "I hope she didn't get into any trouble."

"So do I." Clark headed for the stairs.

Part 9

As the door slid shut, Lois threw herself against it, but it was too late. She was sealed in, and true to Brunner's statement there didn't seem, at least on a first, cursory examination, any way to open the door.

Of course, that didn't necessarily stop Lois Lane. She stood back taking stock of her current surroundings.

She was in a room about ten feet by ten feet. The floor was covered with a plush carpet, and the furnishings consisted of an elegant sofa against one wall, a large, luxurious armchair, a coffee table, constructed of what looked like mahogany, and a graceful floor lamp with a shade in the shape of a lily. On the shelf beneath the table lay two books and several magazines. A small door to one side opened on a tiny lavatory with a toilet and a sink. There were no windows, in the main room or the bathroom, air was apparently blown into the room through a six-by-four-inch grated vent in the ceiling and the door was a flat rectangle that fitted precisely with the wall, and matched it so perfectly that if she had not seen it close she would have had no idea where it was located. There was no way she was going to be able to pry it open with the materials at hand.

They had taken her purse, of course. Lois kicked the door angrily.

Well, Jimmy would tell Clark where she had gone, and her partner was bound to come looking for her when she didn't return. He'd probably enlist Superman to help hunt for her as well, so the case wasn't completely hopeless, but it was frustrating to be so completely stymied in any attempt to get out of a room. It wasn't her way to simply sit and do nothing.

Well, maybe she could figure something out, Carefully, Lois began a minute, inch by inch examination of the walls.

**********

Nothing. Lois flung herself down in the armchair in exasperation. She had gone over every possible inch of her prison, and there was no chink in the walls, no possible way, as far as she could see, to force the door open. Nothing but a snake was going to get through that tiny air vent, and she had tried yelling for Superman until her throat was hoarse. Apparently the place was sound-proofed, too. So she was trapped, until and unless Clark managed to find her, or her captors decided to open that door.

She checked her watch, which informed her helpfully that it was now nearly five o'clock. Surely Clark was looking for her by now! Maybe he would call Superman if she was gone long enough. Come on, Clark! she thought. You know how often I get into trouble! Just once, just once! call Superman! Call Henderson and tell him what we were doing and what we found! This is one time I can't do it by myself! Please have an attack of common sense and get someone down here to help me get out of this place!

But, of course, there was no answer. Unable to endure doing nothing, Lois got to her feet and paced. There had to be something she could do, she told herself, but she had explored every square inch of this horrible little room and there was no way to get out of it. Lois hated the feeling of helplessness. Having to depend on others was something she had sworn never to do after she had left home. She hadn't been able to depend on her parents; she hadn't wanted to depend on a partner, but now the only thing she could do was to hope that Clark would somehow manage to locate her and get her out of this place before Brunner or his superiors decided to come back and eliminate her as a threat.

But no one came, and time ticked by second by endless second. Pacing was a completely fruitless activity, and eventually Lois flung herself back into the chair again. Her watch now said it was past six. It would be nearly dark by now. The sun would be down, and the bright colors of sunset would be fading to pale pastels in the evening sky. Clark had to realize that she was in trouble. Surely he was looking for her!

The only problem, of course, was the fact that he really had no idea where she was. He might guess that she was somewhere near Cost Mart, but he couldn't be certain, and he couldn't know about this hidden room. The chances of him finding her were not high.

But Clark had come through for her many times, she knew, and so had Superman. And there was still the chance that she could somehow manage to outwit Brunner and his thugs when they came back for her, and manage to escape. She had wiggled out of tight situations before.

The silence in the room was maddening. She got up and walked again, just for something to do. Maybe their plan was to drive her insane with the solitude and suspense, she conjectured. If so, they were going to be disappointed.

Again, she glanced at her watch. Seven-thirteen. It would be pitch dark outside now. The early nightfall of winter would have descended and the sun would be long gone. She wondered whether the snow was still falling. Her Jeep in the parking lot would be covered in white, but maybe Clark would see it and realize at least that she had been here. She hoped so. Cost Mart closed at eight, and Lois figured that Brunner would wait at least until the store closed to do anything to her. Most likely they would wait until it was much later, so there would be fewer people around to see them take her away to whatever fate they intended for her. Whatever it was, she figured that their intentions could not be to leave her alive. There was far too much money involved for Intergang. She was too much a loose end that needed to be removed.

Again, she flung herself into the chair. It would be a relief even if the Intergang thugs would come back. At least then she might get out of this place, even if they were going to try to kill her. If she ever got out of the room, she could scream for Superman. Maybe he could get to her before somebody shot her or something, if he was anywhere nearby.

Without a sound, the section of wall that was the room's door began to move.

**********

"We've got out an APB for her," Henderson was saying. Perry White paced the floor of Henderson's office at the Twelfth Precinct. "Superman already notified me that she'd disappeared. He's looking for her too."

"I swear, that woman is taking years off my life," Perry said, running his hand through the thinning hair on top of his head. "Nobody's seen her since about noon. She told Olsen she was heading over to check out Cost Mart --"

"Yeah, I know." Henderson scowled. "Look, Perry, we're doing our best with short staffing. Superman's out there looking, and so's Kent. So far we've found nothing. No sign of her, her vehicle or --"

The ringing of his cell phone cut off whatever he had been going to say. Henderson flipped open the phone. "Henderson."

Perry paused, trying not to distract the police inspector. Henderson listened for several seconds. "No sign of foul play?"

Again the person on the other end of the call spoke at length. Perry held his breath.

"Good. I want the area searched. Keep me updated." He closed the phone. "One of my guys spotted her car. It's parked in the lot on the east side of Centennial Park."

"I guess she isn't in it," Perry said.

"No. Look, Perry --" Henderson regarded him with a trace of sympathy, "why don't you head home. There's nothing you can do right now, and I'll be sure to call you if anyone finds anything."

Perry chewed his lip. He knew Henderson was right, but it was hard to just go about his normal routine when Lois was missing, and he knew very well that she was probably in serious danger. He scowled at Henderson. "What in Sam Hill would Lois be doing at Centennial Park? She told Jimmy she was going to check out what she and Kent were discussing last night -- and Kent said that was Cost Mart. The one over by the bay."

Henderson shrugged. "Good question."

Perry's scowl grew more ferocious. "You know Lois. She's like a terrier with a bone. She gets hold of somethin' and chews on it 'til she figures out what's botherin' her about it. What if she went over to Cost Mart on a snoopin' expedition and got caught?"

Henderson regarded him thoughtfully. "I thought you said you didn't think the Churches would have anything to do with criminal activities."

"I did," Perry said. "But just because I don't think they could doesn't mean somebody else wouldn't. Kent was pretty close-mouthed about what they saw last night, but he said he thought they had a good lead on those vampire murders in the park. He wouldn't say anything else -- but I know Kent. If Lois went back to do some snoopin' without him, and found out too much --"

Henderson straightened up. "Kent told you that? Did he give you any idea of what he found?"

Perry shook his head. "No. He said they needed to do some more checking, and were going back this evening -- but Lois jumped the gun, and now she's missing. I don't like this a bit."

"No," Henderson said. "Neither do I." He got to his feet. "Come on."

"Where?"

"I figure," Henderson said, too casually, "that it wouldn't hurt if we took a short trip to Cost Mart, just to see what we can see. Feel up to it?"

Perry nodded. "Let's go."

"You bring your car?"

"Sure."

"Good. I'm driving."

**********

Superman circled in the air high over the bay and Cost Mart. The area was dark with the setting of the sun, except for the artificial lighting provided by street lights and advertising signs, and the snow continued to fall lightly, drifting on the soft breeze from the bay. The air was chilly, but had a damp quality that smelled faintly of the ocean. So far he could see no sign of Lois, nor could he hear any trace of her heartbeat, but something deeper than thought, some instinct, perhaps, told him that Lois was somewhere nearby. She had come here; of that he was sure. It wouldn't be the first time that his partner had managed to get herself in very deep trouble while in single-minded pursuit of a story.

He had already X-rayed the tunnel dug by Cost Mart under the parking lot, as well as the parallel one that housed the Native American crypt. There was no sign of activity there now. He had scanned the entire area accessible to his X-ray vision, including the resort house where the smuggling tunnel had emerged, so it looked as if Clark Kent was going to have to do some more direct hands-on exploration, and the first place to look was Cost Mart.

On the thought, he landed behind the huge store, changing from Superman to Clark as he landed, and a few minutes later, Clark Kent, clad in a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a leather jacket, and minus his glasses, was crossing the parking lot and entering the portals of the "Biggest Bargain Store in Metropolis."

Cost Mart was due to close at eight, and it was now close to seven, but the crowd inside the big store hadn't thinned at all. Clark appropriated a basket and walked casually down the aisles, just as Lois had done several hours ago, working his way toward the back. Along his path, mingled with the crowd of shoppers, he noted Cost Mart employees engaged in various tasks, usually a young man or woman wearing jeans and a green T-shirt bearing the logo of Cost Mart on the left breast.

The "Employees Only" door in the rear, which led to the offices in the back of Cost Mart, was his objective, and Clark stood, apparently examining two different cans of bug spray while he scouted the situation unobtrusively. Here and there, store employees went about their jobs, but they could be circumvented if he moved fast enough. There were security cameras in strategic locations on the ceiling and walls, but they had speed limitations. If he moved fast enough, they wouldn't see anything at all.

Clark pushed his cart toward the end of the row of various insecticides and cleaning materials, and for an instant stepped out of the view of the security camera. Instantly, he shifted to super-speed and a split-second later was through the door and headed toward the back of the store.

And, at that exact moment, a woman screamed.

Instinctively, Clark turned toward the sound, looking through the wall, trying to locate the screamer with his X-ray vision. It was a woman, and she stood in the small secretary's nook, at the door of the manager's office, staring at something that lay on the floor. She screamed again.

It was a man, Clark saw: a man lying on his back on the carpet, and even from where he stood Clark could tell that he was dead. As he zeroed in on the corpse, his super senses registered further details, and he knew that his face had gone white.

Two tiny punctures marked the man's throat, directly over the left carotid artery. Clark controlled the urge to grimace and looked further.

Sure enough, the body had been completely drained of blood.

**********

William Henderson guided Perry White's car into the Cost Mart parking lot and pulled into in the nearest space. "Here we are. Let's see what we can see."

Perry swung open the passenger door as Henderson killed the engine. "Where first?"

Henderson shrugged. "Let's just take a look around inside. Then, we'll look around a little more."

Perry fell in beside him as they headed across the lot toward the main entrance. Pools of illumination from the tall lights set here and there about the area punctuated the darker sections of the lot, and Perry couldn't help glancing a little uneasily about, wondering what it was that Lois and Clark had found in relation to the so-called vampire victims in the park. Not that Perry believed in vampires for a minute, but that report had been downright creepy. It was a relief when they stepped into the light in front of the main entrance, and pushed through the doors into the store.

The place was typically crowded, and Perry and Henderson came in with the crowd of shoppers. As far as Perry could tell, nothing was out of place, but then how would he know, after all? What was Henderson looking for, except, of course, Lois?

"The manager's office is in the rear," Henderson said briefly, and Perry reminded himself that the police had probably been here yesterday to speak with the manager. "Let's go pay him a visit."

If the manager had anything to do with what was going on, Perry thought, he wasn't going to be happy to see Henderson. Maybe the police inspector intended to see if he could throw a scare into the man. It was easy to act calm when one wasn't suspected of anything, but if he got nervous, he might do something stupid.

Henderson's cell phone began to play its cheerful little tune. He extracted it from a pocket and held it to his ear. "Henderson … repeat that. Two of them? Any identification? Close off the area and get a forensics team on it. I'll get Wolfe over there shortly. Yeah. Henderson out." He snapped his phone shut. "Well, that was interesting."

"What was?" Perry asked.

"The men searching the park found two men. No identification. They were both dead. Drained of blood."

Perry stared at him in shock. "What in Memphis --"

Henderson had his phone open again, and hit his speed dial. A few seconds later, he spoke. "Jim, it's Henderson. We've had another one. I need you to sub for me for an hour or so. Get hold of Gheraty's team and join him at Centennial Park, would you? -- Thanks. I owe you one." He snapped the phone shut.

A scream echoed through the store. Perry's head whipped around, toward the sound. Henderson said something under his breath and strode quickly in the direction of the screams. A third scream sounded as Perry followed him.

The cries had come from the back of the store, and as they neared the location, it was obvious that the source was somewhere on the other side of the door labeled "Employees Only". Henderson pulled out his ID and pushed his way inexorably through the crowd.

"Police! Let me through!"

The crowd parted slowly for him, and Perry followed in Henderson's wake as he forced a path into the hallway beyond. People were bunched in front of the manager's office, and when Perry and Henderson arrived, Perry at once identified the screamer. A young woman was seated in a chair, her face in her hands. On the carpet, in the entrance of the manager's office lay a man.

Henderson dropped to one knee beside him and rested his fingers on the skin of his throat -- right beside, Perry noted with a shudder, two small punctures in the skin.

Henderson got to his feet.

"Dead?" Perry asked.

The police inspector nodded curtly and took out his phone once more. "This is turning into a really bad evening," he remarked.

Part 10

Lois instinctively moved behind the heavy armchair as the door to her prison began to slide open.

She expected to see Brunner and his thugs waiting outside, but although the man standing in the doorway seemed somehow vaguely familiar, she couldn't quite place him. She and the newcomer looked at each other for several seconds, Lois striving to recall where she had seen him before.

He was a short slender dark man of indeterminate age -- not young, not old -- dressed in slightly worn jeans and a green shirt with the Cost Mart logo on the left breast.

A light jacket hung open over it. His skin was brown and his hair and eyes were obsidian-black. The memory of the Native American crypt flashed through her mind, but with it came the awareness of how silly the whole idea was. A Native American vampire? Come on, Lois, let's get real! An employee of Cost Mart was real, and probably far more dangerous to her life and liberty than any vampire that ever lived. Or didn't live. Or whatever.

The man's eyes crinkled and his somewhat forbidding aspect was suddenly erased by an unexpectedly attractive and disarming smile. He held up empty hands as she eyed him distrustfully from her position behind the chair.

"Am I speaking to Miss Lane?" His voice was a deep baritone, and surprisingly pleasant, with the faintest hint of an accent, although she couldn't quite identify it.

"Yes."

"You needn't fear me," the newcomer said. "I am here to set you free. Come quickly. There is a great deal of excitement going on above stairs. If we move swiftly, you will be away before anyone discovers your absence." He stood back, indicating that she should exit into the hallway.

Lois hesitated, but there was really no choice. She could stay and face Brunner and his thugs, or take a chance with this guy, whoever he was.

"Who are you?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.

"You may call me a friend." From beneath his jacket, the newcomer produced her purse. "Who I am is unimportant, but I am no friend of Mr. Brunner or of his minions. Come. There may not be much time."

Lois picked up her coat from the back of the armchair almost absently, and stepped cautiously out into the hallway, still not completely certain that this was a good idea. But staying in that place wasn't any better, she pointed out to herself. Brunner certainly had no intentions of letting her go alive. Of course, this guy might be the thug that he'd given the job of disposing of her, but at least this way she had a fighting chance. In that room, she had none.

The wall slid shut behind her with a faint, final click. Well, whoever this guy was, she was committed. She couldn't go back in, no matter what. Not that she wanted to. Standing in the hallway, she watched her presumed rescuer warily.

The man had stepped back and now he glanced cautiously in both directions. "I suggest you put on your coat. The snow is still falling." He presented her with her bag as she slipped the item of clothing on. "You will need this. This way, if you please." Turning, he led the way down the corridor in the opposite direction from which she had come, hours before. Lois dithered for a split second and then followed. After all, what choice did she have?

The path her rescuer took led her down through several intersecting hallways and around numerous corners. Trying to keep track of the route left Lois slightly bewildered, but after the fifth -- or was it the sixth? -- turn, her guide stopped before a wide double door, similar to the doors on the storage rooms that she had investigated earlier on the floor above. He twisted the knob, and Lois could have sworn that she heard the snap of a breaking lock. The door swung open at his touch, showing an unlighted room beyond.

"Your way out is through here." He produced a flashlight. "Come."

She hesitated and then with a mental shrug, followed the stranger into the room. Her guide turned and carefully closed the doors, leaving the room in darkness, except for the circle of illumination provided by the flashlight.

It was a storage room. Wooden crates were stacked against one wall, almost invisible in the dimness.

"This way." He led the way directly across the room to the opposite wall, where another door broke the concrete surface. Lois's rescuer turned the very ordinary knob and pushed the door wide. Darkness met her gaze and he trained the light through the aperture. Lois discovered that she was looking out into the smuggling tunnel that she and Clark had explored the night before. Her guide stepped through the door and led the way into the tunnel. The door closed behind them.

It took only four or five minutes and they reached the ladder that led to the outer world of the Cost Mart parking lot. They paused, and Lois's mysterious acquaintance smiled, showing a flash of very white teeth that gleamed like milk in the pale illumination of the flashlight. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lane. Go now, and may fortune be with you, but do not forget that for which you came."

"What --"

"The men of this place deal in dreams and death," he said. "Dreams for the lost." His obsidian eyes met hers, and he laid a small, plastic package in the palm of her hand. "Give this to your flying friend. Tell him he must seal up the tunnel, and stop the ones who use it. If you do not, great evil will be released upon your city."

He stepped back, indicating with one hand that she should ascend the ladder. "Take this," he said. "You will need it."

Lois found herself accepting the flashlight. "But, where are you --"

Her rescuer took another step backwards. Lois glanced up the ladder at the faintly lighter circular opening, through which occasional snowflakes drifted. She turned to look back at her companion, but now no one stood there. He had vanished silently into the dimness of the smuggling tunnel and the light failed to reveal him anywhere.

Her spine prickling, Lois hurriedly dropped the packet into the pocket of her coat, put a hand on the chill, damp metal of the ladder and stepped quickly onto the bottom rung. From the depths of the tunnel, she heard a soft laugh, and somewhere, the faintest flutter of what might have been wings.

**********

The snow was indeed coming down, Lois discovered, as she emerged into the open. The surface of the parking lot was inches deep in half-melted slush. Within a very few minutes, her feet were soaked and chilled. And fifteen minutes later, after a fruitless search for her car, she succumbed to a mild attack of nerves, as well as temptation and annoyance. She was tired, cold and definitely creeped out by the events of the last several hours. Especially, for obvious reasons, the last half hour. She kept fighting the urge to look over her shoulder, expecting to see a slender, dark man with the blackest eyes she had ever seen, and an unbelievably white smile.

She closed her eyes, shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat and took a deep breath.

"Help! Superman!"

The swoosh of the arriving superhero was the most welcome sound she had heard in hours. She opened her eyes to see his red boots hit the ground in front of her. Was it her imagination, or was there a trace of anxiety in his expression?

"Lois! Are you all right?"

"Yeah." The sense of relief made her feel almost light headed. She leaned backwards rather limply against a battered, blue Ford and pulled her coat tighter around her torso. "I shouldn't have called you, but I can't find my car, and --"

"Your car is over at Centennial Park," Superman said. "Henderson has had the whole Twelfth Precinct looking for you. Everybody has been looking for you for hours. Where have you been?"

Lois shivered. "Could you take me home?" she requested, mortified that her voice had begun to shake. "It's been a very long, weird day."

"I think I should take you to the Twelfth Precinct," Superman said. "Henderson found a body in the manager's office in Cost Mart, and his men found two more in the park, not far from your car. Where have you been?"

"A body?" Lois said faintly, fixing on the first part of the sentence. "He said there was a lot of excitement going on above stairs."

"He?" Superman asked sharply.

"The guy who rescued me," Lois said.

"Who rescued you?" Superman asked.

"I don't know," Lois said. "He didn't tell me his name. But he gave me something to give to you." She removed the plastic packet from her pocket and laid it in his hand. It was filled, she saw now, with a fine, white powder.

Superman looked at it and his eyebrows snapped up. "He gave you this? Where did he get it?"

"He said I shouldn't forget what I came for," Lois said. "He said the people there deal in dreams for the lost, and death. I thought that was a funny way to say it, but --"

"Sort of, I guess," Superman said. "He was right, though. I'm pretty sure this is almost pure, uncut heroin."

Lois nodded soberly. "I figured it was probably something like that." She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. "Things didn't go quite like I expected tonight."

"Let's get you inside," Superman said abruptly. "You can tell me what happened when you feel better." He reached out to scoop her into his arms and leaped into the air. Barely five minutes later, he was setting her on her feet in the lobby of the Twelfth Precinct.

**********

William Henderson lowered his cell phone from his ear and glanced at Perry White. The editor of the Daily Planet was, Henderson saw with amusement, taking quick notes on a notepad that he had apparently appropriated from the office of the murdered man. Once a newsman, always a newsman, Henderson thought. Perry hadn't lost his reporting instincts simply because he had graduated to editor of the most prestigious newspaper in Metropolis a decade before. He moved over to the editor and got his attention.

"Got a call from my office," he said. "Superman just showed up at the Precinct with Lois. She's all right."

Perry blew out his breath in a gusty sigh. "Did they say what happened?"

"Nope. Nobody's had a chance to interview her yet. You want to take off and find out?"

Perry shook his head. "I'll stick around until the kid from the office gets here. You're sure that's Brunner?"

"We'll get an official identification later, but, yeah -- his secretary says it's him, and she should know." Henderson resisted the temptation to jam his hands into his pockets and kept his expression carefully blank.

"Drained of blood --" Perry lowered his voice. "I don't believe in vampires, but this almost makes me have second thoughts."

"Yeah." Henderson shrugged, and then nodded toward the hallway. "I think your man is here."

Perry followed his gaze, noting the latest transfer to the evening shift, Harry Williams, had arrived. "Over here, Williams!"

Williams hurried over to Perry and Henderson. "I got here as fast as I could, Chief."

"Yeah. I've got the background. Stick around 'til they're finished here." Perry glanced at Henderson. "Mind if I get my keys back now?"

"Huh? Oh." Henderson produced the keys to Perry's car. "Here you go. I'm glad Lane's all right. If she knows anything about this business, I expect to hear from her tomorrow."

"You will." Perry turned to Williams. "Bottom line: that's the manager of this Cost Mart in there. Secretary found him dead on the floor of his office. Looks like he's been drained of blood."

Williams eyebrows rose almost to his hairline and Henderson saw him swallow convulsively. "Has this got something to do with that vampire story floating around?"

Perry grunted. "Your guess is as good as mine. Just get the facts for the Planet. Remember. Hard facts, Williams. Not sensationalism. I get enough of that from Ralph."

"Yes, sir." The man stiffened almost to military attention, Henderson noted with dry amusement.

"See you later, Bill." Perry nodded to Henderson and departed. Henderson turned back to his people. This evening was turning out to be a pain in the rear. Now all he needed was to come face to face with a real vampire or something. How would he be supposed to report that?

Dismissing the bit of mordant humor as foolishness, Henderson turned back to his job. Whoever had murdered his men might very well be behind the murder of the Cost Mart manager. He intended to find out who that somebody might be.

Part 11

Clark, in his Superman guise, set Lois down inside the Twelfth Precinct and stood back. "Hold still."

He trained his heat vision, suitably attenuated, on her soaked feet, and damp clothing, and walked slowly around her, drying and warming her from all sides. He could see the shivering easing off as he did so.

Sergeant Crandall, the desk sergeant, got to his feet. "Are you all right, Lois?" It figured, Clark thought, that the guy recognized his partner.

Lois gave a wan smile. "More or less. Let's just say I don't want to go through that again."

"Want to tell us what happened?" Crandall asked. "I haven't seen Henderson that worried about anybody in years. And your boss was in here, wearing a path in Henderson's carpet."

"Where is he?" Lois asked, glancing at Clark. "I thought you said he found a body at Cost Mart, but I didn't see any police cars."

"They were on the other side of the building, in the employees parking lot," Clark said, brushing back the cape of his Superman outfit as he took a seat on the nearest wooden bench. "The police came in the back way. Henderson's with them. I thought you'd have seen them. You said you were looking for your car, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I left it in the main lot," Lois said reasonably. "Why would I go around the building to a place where I hadn't parked?"

That figured, Clark thought. Sometimes his partner's thinking processes left him scratching his head.

"Anyway," Lois said, "I'm all right now. An employee -- I guess he was, anyway -- gave me that packet, and said that I should give it to Superman. Would it be all right if I go home, now?"

"What packet" Crandall asked.

"This one." Clark handed the little package Lois had given him to the man. "You need to have it analyzed. I think it's heroin."

"Where did it come from?"

"Cost Mart," Lois said.

"Who was the person that gave it to you?"

"I don't know," Lois said frankly. "I've never met him as far as I know, but he seemed to know who I was."

"I'll report it to Henderson," Crandall said. "I'm sure he'll be interested. What else happened to you? You've been missing for hours."

"I went over to Cost Mart to talk to the manager," Lois said. "Clarence Brunner. I went into the back of the store, but I guess I took a wrong turn and wound up in a part of the offices where I wasn't supposed to be. A couple of security guys grabbed me and stuck me in a room and locked the door. I couldn't get out and I was there for hours. Then this guy opened the door, asked if I was Miss Lane, and took me out through a basement door. He gave me that packet and said I should give it to Superman. That's the whole story."

Clark would have bet his red boots that it definitely wasn't the whole story, but he didn't say so. Maybe she would tell Clark the real story later. He glanced at Crandall, who looked a little skeptical as well. "Why did they lock you up?" the sergeant inquired.

"I don't know," Lois said. "Unless they thought I'd found their heroin stash or something. I really can't tell you."

"I'll bet," Crandall said, under his breath, but Clark heard him. "Do you know anything about the guy that was found dead in the manager's office?"

"No," Lois said, flatly. "The first I heard of it was when Superman told me about it."

"How about the two men found dead in Centennial Park a little way from your Jeep?"

Clark saw her eyes widen. "No, of course not! Who were they?"

"We haven't identified them yet," Crandall said. "They may be connected with the death at Cost Mart. All right, Lois, I guess you can go. Do you need to call a taxi?"

Clark stood up. "I'll give Ms. Lane a lift," he said.

Crandall nodded. "You may get a call from Henderson, tomorrow," he pointed out. "Especially if this stuff does turn out to be heroin."

Lois nodded. "I'll expect it, but I doubt I'll be much help," she said. "As far as I can remember, I've never met the guy that gave it to me before. The only thing I can think is that he might have known about it and wanted to stop it, but didn't want to talk to the police himself."

"Probably," Crandall said. "Can you describe him?"

"Sort of, I guess," Lois said. "He was short -- maybe an inch taller than I am. I'm not sure what race, but it wasn't white or Hispanic -- maybe Native American. He had black hair, and black eyes, maybe forty, give or take five years, wearing jeans and a Cost Mart T-shirt. That's really it. I only saw him for a few minutes, and most of the time his back was toward me." She turned to Clark. "That lift home would be great," she added.

Clark smiled. "I'm at your service, Lois." He looked past her at Crandall. "If Henderson needs me, tell him to get hold of Kent at the Planet," he said. "I imagine he'll be busy for a while with the murder at Cost Mart, but if I can be of any help, I'll be glad to give it."

"Yeah; thanks, Superman." Crandall nodded, and fell to examining the packet of powder. Then, he picked up the telephone receiver. As he escorted Lois out the Precinct doors, Clark heard the officer speaking. "Lab? Yeah, I got something here for you --"

**********

Lois was just stepping out of the shower when she heard the knock on her door. She grabbed a towel and began to dry herself hurriedly off, and stuck her head out the bathroom door. "Who is it?"

"Clark," her partner's voice said.

"Hold on a minute," she called. "I'll be right there!"

Quickly, she wrapped her dripping hair in a towel, dried herself off, more or less, and pulled on a robe. A moment later, she was opening the door.

Clark looked slightly taken aback at the sight of her in her robe. "If you like, I can come back later," he began.

"Don't be silly. Sit down while I get some sweats on," Lois said, heading back for her bedroom. Five minutes later, she stepped into the living room again, to find her partner seated on her sofa, waiting patiently.

"Hi," she said

Clark got to his feet. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Lois pushed back the sleeves of the sweatshirt. It was his shirt, and was, consequently somewhat large on her petite frame. "I'm fine."

"Superman said he picked you up in the Cost Mart parking lot," Clark said. "You'd been missing for hours. What happened?"

"Didn't Superman tell you?"

Clark shook his head. "He said you'd run into some trouble but you were okay. You aren't hurt, are you?"

Lois shook her head. "I'm okay, except for being creeped completely out," she said. "That was the weirdest evening I've ever had. I still don't believe in vampires, but for a while I was sort of wondering."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." She sank down on one of her sofas. "It was really strange. I didn't even tell Superman what happened, and I couldn't tell Crandall, over at the Twelfth Precinct. Outside of the fact that I was sneaking around where I wasn't supposed to be, he'd have thought I was completely insane."

"So what did happen?"

"Well -- I headed over right after I got to the Planet, just in time for their lunch hour rush," she said. Trying to be as detailed as possible, she described to Clark the events of the day, trying to read his expression as she proceeded, but, except for a slight frown, he didn't appear to disbelieve her.

"So, I climbed out of the tunnel, and started hunting for my car," she concluded. "I couldn't find it, and I was getting pretty cold, so I finally called Superman. He said my Jeep was over in Centennial Park. I guess Brunner must have had his people move it after he took my purse."

"Which your mystery guy returned," Clark said. "I'd like to know how he got hold of it, too. Henderson's men found two men dead not far from your car, in the park. They'd both been drained of blood."

"Crandall said something about that. Have they identified them?"

"Superman said they may have been Cost Mart employees," Clark said. "They apparently had some kind of identification on them when they were found. But, Lois, the dead man at Cost Mart this evening, was Brunner. Perry and Henderson went over to Cost Mart to try to find some trace of you, and were there when someone found him."

"Terrific," Lois said. "Don't tell me. He was drained of blood, too."

"Yeah," Clark admitted. "At least that was what Superman said. And he had two punctures on his throat, right over the carotid artery."

Lois swallowed, the vision of her rescuer's white teeth popping into her mind. It couldn't possibly be, could it? After a moment's doubt, she again dismissed the thought, albeit with a little effort. "Somebody's running some kind of scam," she said. "And I'm betting that it has something to do with that smuggling tunnel."

"Probably," Clark said.

A horrible idea occurred to her. "You don't suppose the two they found were the men that helped Brunner put me in that room?" she said.

"I guess it's possible. Do you think you'd recognize them if Henderson asked you to try to identify them?"

Lois made a face. "Maybe."

"I think we should find out," Clark said. "Unless you --"

"Unless I what?" she said, bristling slightly. "Can't handle it or something? I've seen bodies before."

"I know you have," he said quickly. "But it was an unsettling episode."

"Yeah, but it will be even more unsettling if more people die because I don't help Henderson find out what happened," she said. "Is he still over at Cost Mart?"

"I think he got back to the Precinct about an hour ago."

"Good." Lois reached for the phone.

**********

William Henderson was in the process of filling out the umpteenth part of his report on the murder of the Cost Mart manager when his phone rang. He picked up the receiver. "Henderson."

The voice on the line sounded tired. "Sir, you've got a call from Lois Lane. She's insisting on talking to you directly. I told her you were busy, but she --"

"Put her on," Henderson said. "I wanted to talk to her anyway."

"Yes sir." There was a click on the line.

"Henderson?" Lois's voice said.

"Hello, Lois," Henderson said. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah," she said. "I heard you were there when they found the manager."

"I'm sure you didn't call me to verify that," Henderson said. "What's on your mind this evening?"

"I also heard that your people found two bodies near where you found my Jeep," Lois continued. "Brunner locked me in a room in Cost Mart's sub-basement. He took my purse, with my keys."

"What's your point?"

"He had two pieces of muscle with him that did the strong arm stuff. It's possible that they're your dead men. If they are, I might be able to identify them."

Henderson's eyebrows rose slightly. "Crandall said something about that," he said, "but he didn't give details."

"I know. It didn't really occur to me about the dead men until I talked to Clark. Listen; can you fix it so I can see them? I might be able to tell you whether it was them or not."

"I think I could manage that," Henderson said. "Crandall said you got your purse back. How did that happen?"

"That's complicated," Lois said.

"I'll bet," Henderson murmured. "Well, we'll deal with that later. All right, I'll send somebody to pick you up. Ten minutes."

**********

When Lois and Clark walked into the morgue, Clark became aware that Lois, in spite of her apparent calm appearance, wasn't nearly as composed as she looked. Her heart had speeded up and he could tell by the set of her jaw that she was clenching her teeth.

William Henderson, who, rather surprisingly, accompanied them, greeted the medical examiner with a nod. "Hi, Barney. This is Lane, and her partner, Kent," he said. "You ready?"

"Sure." The man laid his ham sandwich down on the napkin that lay on his desk, scrubbed his hands across his slacks and got to his feet. "This way."

Clark had long ago become inured to all kinds of smells, and the scent of formaldehyde and various other chemicals was not unexpected. Lois, of course, had been in this room before, but he saw her nose wrinkle slightly as they followed the man through the door into the tile-lined room with its refrigerated units and metal tables, and glass cases with all kinds of metal implements of the trade. Clark kept his eyes on Lois. Her shoulders were tense, but she trod resolutely after Henderson as they followed their host.

Barney stopped beside a table which held a sheet-covered form. "Here we are." Without hesitation, he pulled back the sheet, revealing the face of the victim.

"Well?" Henderson asked, turning to look at Lois. "Recognize him?"

Lois had taken an involuntary step back, but now Clark saw her take a deep breath and step forward to look long and hard at the victim's face. She nodded. "Yeah," she said finally. "This was one of the men with Brunner."

Henderson nodded and Barney efficiently re-covered the first man and stepped to a second table, also bearing a sheet-covered form. He pulled back the cover.

This time Lois didn't hesitate. She stepped past the medical examiner and took a long look.

"Yes," she said. "This is the other one."

"Okay," Henderson said. "I guess that answers one question. And opens up a lot of others." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Thanks, Barney. I guess you can go back to your dinner."

**********

"So," Henderson said, as they crossed the snowy hospital parking lot toward his car, "for some reason, whoever did this decided to take out all three men that locked you in Cost Mart's basement. You got any idea why?"

"No," Lois said.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

"Only if it isn't official," Lois said.

Henderson snorted. "No recording devices," he said. "And no witnesses that will ever admit to hearing it, I imagine." He glanced meaningfully at Lois's partner. "It won't come up unless I need it to nail the murderer. You have my word."

He saw her glance at her partner, who gave the faintest nod. "All right."

Henderson opened the door of his car and they got in. He started the engine, and after a moment, turned on the heater. "Go ahead."

"I guess," Lois said, "that we need to tell you about the tunnel --"

"Tunnel?"

"Under the Cost Mart parking lot," Clark said. "We checked it out last night."

Part 12

Henderson listened without comment to the description of Lois and Clark's excursion into the depths of Cost Mart's smuggling tunnel, raising his eyebrows at the information that the tunnel had apparently encroached on some kind of Native American crypt. When they finished, he was silent for several minutes. It was too bad, he found himself thinking, not for the first time, that Lane and Kent had chosen to be investigative journalists instead of cops. On the other hand, their talents in this direction could have as easily been applied to a life of crime, so he was probably lucky they had decided on a career that stayed marginally within the law.

"So, this tunnel leads to one of the vacation houses in Mariner's Cove, which is apparently being used for smuggling?" he summarized.

"It sort of looks like it," Clark said. "Of course, we didn't see anything stored there, but they were moving something through the tunnel -- several boxes of something heavy -- and they must have brought it through the house to get it into the tunnel."

"And the door at the other end opens into the storeroom in Cost Mart's sub-basement," Henderson said slowly. "I thought I'd seen everything when it came to ingenious ways to smuggle drugs during my year on the Vice squad. Unfortunately, I can't use most of this for evidence."

"Yeah, I know," Lois said. "But there must be something we can do."

"Not 'we'", Henderson said. "I." He regarded Lois thoughtfully. "I can use some of what you've told me as a 'tip,' but if I reveal how you got the information it might open you up to prosecution -- trespassing, at the very least. But I appreciate what you've told me. It helps make some sense of the whole thing."

"Some of it," Clark amended. "It still doesn't explain the blood-drained bodies, though."

"There is, of course, that minor detail," Henderson agreed. "And I really want to nail whoever it was that killed the men in the park." He hesitated. "Look, this is off the record. Deal?"

Lois nodded.

"Victims two and three were my men. Undercover officers that worked at Cost Mart. They were there trying to find out who was behind the drugs coming into Metropolis. There's been an up-tick in the last year and we had information to the effect that someone from Cost Mart might be involved. But somebody killed them. I want the ones involved in it."

"Is it possible the smugglers did it?" Lois suggested.

"Maybe. But then why were Brunner and his two buddies killed the same way?" Henderson said.

"Good question," Clark said. "Maybe they weren't in on it."

"Then why did they grab me and lock me up if they weren't up to something they shouldn't be?" Lois pointed out reasonably. "Brunner said that I'd seen too much for him to let me go. I think he meant the elevator to the sub-basement." She made a face. "Something really doesn't add up."

"You know, Lois," Henderson said, "I've noticed you have a real talent for understatements. I'm going to take a look at the plans to the place when I get back to the Precinct. I'm willing to wager money that they don't include a sub-basement in any form, much less a tunnel."

"Me too," Lois said.

Henderson regarded her thoughtfully. "Care to show me this tunnel?" he inquired, as casually as he could.

Clark's heavy eyebrows rose slightly. "Isn't that illegal?" he asked, looking a little amused.

Henderson shrugged. "There's no law that says I can't go into the Cost Mart parking lot -- even if it is nearly midnight." He removed the wallet bearing his badge from his pocket and laid it on the passenger seat. "In any case, I'm not going to do this as a cop." He put the car in gear and they rolled slowly out onto the street.

**********

The Cost Mart parking lot was dimly lighted, Lois noted, just as it had been earlier, when Henderson pulled his car into a parking space not far from the tunnel. There were noticeably fewer cars now than when she had prowled around here through the snow, looking for her own vehicle, which was currently in the hands of the Metropolis Police Department. Henderson turned off the engine and killed the lights.

"That it?" he inquired, nodding at the area blocked off by the wooden barrier.

"Yeah." Lois opened her door, and belatedly pulled the leather jacket that she had brought from her apartment more tightly around her torso. It wasn't snowing any longer, but the damp air had a sharp bite to it. The mist of her breath curled away, dissipating like ghosts in the darkness.

"Okay," Henderson said. "Let's go have a look-see." He pushed open his door and got out as well, followed by Clark. Leaving the doors locked, and his badge prominently on the passenger seat, they moved cautiously toward the construction area.

There was no one to be seen. Between the lateness of the hour and the icy air, it seemed that no one was anxious to be out in the open just now, Lois thought. She skirted the barrier. "This is it."

Henderson knelt and peered down the hole. "There's a ladder," he confirmed. "Okay, here's where I do a little trespassing."

"Are you sure you want to do this, Bill?" Clark inquired. "You can't use anything you find as evidence."

"I know," Henderson said shortly, "but there are two widows, and seven kids who will never see their dads again. I owe them a lot more than I can ever make up for. I want to know what's going on and I'm going to find out."

Put that way, Lois could sympathize. Clark nodded. "Want me to go first? That way you can come to the rescue if I run into trouble."

One corner of the Inspector's mouth twitched. "No. You follow me." He swung over the side of the hole and began his descent.

As soon as he had vanished down the ladder, Lois got one foot on the top rung and followed. In less than a minute, her feet hit the stone of the tunnel floor, and seconds later, Clark joined them.

Henderson had a flashlight in one hand and was shining the light over the walls. He turned right. "Let's check out the door to the sub-basement, first."

"It's probably locked," Lois pointed out.

"Probably." Henderson started off toward the right, keeping his light trained on the mud-tracked stone floor.

As it had before, it took only seven or eight minutes until they came up against the metal door. Henderson flashed his light over it, examining it minutely. "Okay, let's go look at the rest of it." He turned and began to retrace his steps.

Lois and Clark followed Henderson as he made his way back to the ladder which led to the parking lot. The passed it and continued on toward the jog in the tunnel a hundred feet or so farther on. They walked in silence, Henderson shielding the light from his flash so that Lois could barely see where to put her feet.

"There's the entrance to the crypt," Clark said. He pointed at the spot, which, in the dim illumination of the shaded flashlight, appeared to be simply a darker spot in the wall where some of the dirt had collapsed.

Henderson nodded. "I'm going to want to look at that, too," he said. "First I want to see where this tunnel goes."

Clark's head whipped around abruptly. Lois looked in the same direction, but saw nothing but the dark tunnel behind them. "What?" she asked.

"I heard something." With one hand, Clark fiddled with his glasses, still looking back the way they had come. "I think someone's coming."

Henderson strained his ears. "I don't hear anything," he whispered.

"Hurry," Clark said. "Through there." Lois found herself being urged through the entrance into the crypt. Her spine prickled, but she was well aware that Clark's hearing was acute and that he very well might be able to hear things that she didn't.

Henderson came through on her heels, and Clark crowded through after them. The inspector abruptly flipped off his light. "Shh." His whisper was a thread of sound.

Together, they crouched in the darkness. Outside their hiding place, Lois could now hear the soft scrape of approaching footsteps on stone. Beside her, she felt Henderson's body stiffen.

There was only one person, she thought. He moved swiftly through the tunnel, and she saw a tiny flicker of light filtering through the opening. She felt Henderson move quietly next to her, and in the faint illumination she saw his silhouette inching toward the opening to peer out after the mystery passerby. With difficulty, she restrained the temptation to grasp his arm, to caution him not to reveal himself. But Henderson relaxed suddenly, easing back into his previous position.

"He's gone," Clark's voice said softly.

"Yeah." Henderson's voice was as quiet as Clark's. "How do you two manage to get mixed up in these things?"

"Good question," Clark said, a trace of humor evident in his whispered words. "Shall we follow him?"

"Not yet." How Bill Henderson could sound dry and cynical when all she could hear was a voiceless whisper in pitch darkness, Lois wasn't sure. "As long as we're here, let's take a look at this place."

"You don't want to see where he went?" Lois demanded, almost outraged.

"We know where he went," Henderson said. "We aren't here to make an arrest. We're just here to explore and see what there is to see. We'll go see your beach house in a bit. I don't want to run into a pack of smugglers armed with AK-47s or something when all I have is my .38, and no warrant. Why don't you show me this coffin you found?"

He had a point, Lois decided.

A light came on, and she realized that Clark had produced a penlight and was shining it on the walls of the ancient tunnel. "Here's some of the hieroglyphs we were telling you about," he said softly. "What do you think?"

Henderson got to his feet, although he hunched down slightly to avoid bumping his head on the low roof and leaned close to the spidery writing on the stone walls. "Hmm." His own light came on, illuminating the markings more clearly. "I recognize this style," he said finally. "We have some examples of it in the Metro Museum of Natural History. The local tribes that were here when the European settlers came often decorated burial crypts with a version of this. It's a combination of Indian hieroglyphs with influence from the English settlers."

"You know this stuff?" Lois nearly squeaked.

"Sure," Henderson said. "I studied some archeology in college with a particular focus on local folklore, and I've made a point of studying it in more depth in my off time. It's kind of a hobby. The Metro Museum of Natural History has some really beautiful artifacts from their civilization. Why?"

"Uh -- I was just surprised. Not too many people know much about the -- uh -- indigenous people that used to inhabit this area." It figured, she thought. First there was Clark, who didn't even come from Metropolis, who could actually read some of this stuff. Now Henderson turned out to be an amateur archeologist and knew about it too. Sometimes she wondered if she had wasted her time in college, especially when somebody like Henderson, who had always impressed her as a no-nonsense law officer, turned out to have an interest in some esoteric subject like the early history of New Troy.

The Inspector's face remained deadpan. "I do have a life besides the one at the Precinct," he remarked. "Which way?"

"Follow me." Clark led the way toward the room where they had found the coffin.

As they walked, Henderson flashed his light on the walls of the tunnel, illuminating many more of the spidery hieroglyphs, and Lois saw him narrow his eyes as they passed a fairly thick bunch of them on the wall just before they reached the end chamber.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm not sure." Henderson stopped, shining his light on the markings. "I've seen these symbols before -- exactly the same."

"Where?"

"At the museum. They're painted on a deerskin that belonged to one of the medicine men of the tribe. It's dated at about the end of the fifteenth century."

"And?" Lois continued, when he stopped.

"I'm not sure. I'm going to need to talk to the museum director tomorrow."

"Why?" Lois asked.

"There was a legend," Henderson said. "I doubt it can have anything to do with this case, but I'd like to know, just for my own satisfaction."

"What kind of legend?"

Henderson shook his head. "I'll let you know after I talk to the expert," he said. "Let's go on."

"It's right through there," Clark said, pointing his light at the entrance to the end chamber. He moved ahead, ducking somewhat to avoid the low roof. Henderson followed, and Lois trailed behind.

And suddenly the men stopped. Lois nearly ran into Henderson. "Hey!"

"That's odd," Clark said.

"What is?" Lois asked.

"We left the lid closed," Clark said. "Now it's open."

Part 13

Lois poked Clark sharply in the back and instantly regretted it. She tended to forget it, but her partner was heavily muscled -- something she should keep in mind, she reflected, rubbing the offended digit. The build that he had displayed that day she saw him in a towel at the Apollo Hotel hadn't been acquired in typing class. Clark almost certainly lifted weights and did other exercises at a gym or something, since that kind of muscle didn't develop on its own. "Mind letting me take a look?" she inquired with the faintest edge to her voice.

"Sorry." Clark quickly moved aside, training his light on the rough wooden casket. The lid, Lois saw, rested on the rough stone floor, leaning askew against the side of the casket. Lois moved forward and peered into the interior.

In the darkness, it was difficult to see anything. "Clark, can you shine your light in here a minute?"

"Sure." Her partner obediently flashed his light into the casket. Lois leaned forward, examining the wrinkled cloth that covered the bottom. At one end the cloth was stained with some brown, crusted streaks. She eyed them thoughtfully, but refused to speculate on what they might be. Instead, she stood back, looking at the lid, leaning carelessly against the body of the casket. Who had opened it? Had one of the workers in this tunnel, or one of the smugglers, perhaps, decided to investigate the tunnel accessed by the small slide? Maybe someone had found the place and opened the casket out of sheer curiosity. The fact that it was empty might have any number of explanations, but a vampire was definitely not one of them. Probably there had never been a body. For some reason the thing had probably been left empty. Who knew what strange customs the original inhabitants of New Troy had followed, after all? Maybe there was something symbolic about "the Sleeper" that the writing on the tapestry above the casket talked about.

"Well," she said, keeping her voice low, "do you suppose that whoever was in the tunnel is gone?" She pulled her jacket a little more tightly around her body. "I'd like to get out of this place."

The men looked at each other and Henderson nodded. "I have to agree with you," he said. "Let's go see if the way is clear."

**********

When they reached the exit, both Clark and Henderson switched off their lights, and the three approached the opening with caution. Lois felt her way in her larger partner's wake and bumped into him in the dark when he stopped.

"Sorry," she whispered.

Together, they waited in the pitch darkness, listening.

"I don't hear anything," Clark's voice whispered at last.

"Come on." Henderson's light came on, shielded by his fingers to allow only the tiniest beam of light to escape. One after another, they crawled through the hole into the main tunnel. Henderson turned toward the jog in the tunnel, treading very softly. Clark and Lois followed.

Just beyond the bend, of course, was the ladder. Clark moved quickly past Lois and Henderson and beat them both to it. Lois blinked in surprise. He set his foot on the first rung and began to climb. Henderson paused for an instant, as if a little surprised as well, and then followed. Lois found herself hugging Henderson's heels.

Above, Clark's shadow reached the trap door. He looked down, his glasses reflecting the faint light of Henderson's shrouded flashlight. "Shh. Turn that off. If there's anyone up there, I don't want to notify them we're here."

The light went off. Lois waited, straining her ears.

There was the faintest of scraping sounds, a tiny, unidentified snapping sound, and then pale grey light filtered into the tunnel. Gradually, Clark lifted the trap door, and the light grew infinitesimally stronger but Lois could hear no more sounds. Then, Clark's silhouette moved upward, no more than a blotch of darker shadow against the rectangle of lighter darkness beyond the opening. She heard and felt Henderson move after him and climbed carefully in the detective's wake, striving to be absolutely silent.

Clark's hand caught hers as she reached for the edge of the door and helped boost her through the aperture. "Shh," he whispered, his voice a thread of sound. "There's somebody out there."

Lois peeked out of the alcove but saw only the darkened room with its un-curtained window that opened on the beach. "I don't see anyone."

"Someone's moving around in the next room."

Lois strained her ears, trying to hear what her partner had already detected. Beside her, Henderson was completely still, even to the point of holding his breath, she realized. Beyond the window the picturesque wooden pier extending out into the choppy grey water of the bay, and the sandy beach itself with the filtered moonlight reflecting off the sand, was strangely blurry, and she realized with slight dismay that it was snowing again, fairly heavily. That figured. Maybe they could go back to the car through the tunnel instead of walking the distance, she thought fleetingly. It looked very cold and miserable out there.

There was the scrape of very soft footsteps on wood, bringing her attention sharply back to the business at hand. How Clark had heard those faint sounds, she couldn't imagine. It must be that amazing hearing that he had demonstrated now and then. He'd explained once that growing up in the country had not exposed him to the unending noise of the city, and so his hearing hadn't changed much from the way it had been when he had been a child. Whatever the reason, he had the disconcerting ability to pick up the tiniest of noises.

"This way," Clark said. "Quick."

He moved in utter silence across the room, opened a door on the opposite side that Lois hadn't even noticed, and stepped within. Henderson and Lois joined him at once, cramming their bodies tightly together in the small space, and Clark pulled the door closed, holding it open no more than an inch. Lois plastered her ear against the tiny opening.

It was less than a minute later that a man entered the room, followed by a second, carrying a flashlight. Lois could see the beam as it flashed about the floor and walls. She hoped the two wouldn't notice the fact that the closet door was slightly ajar, but it was too late to close it now.

"Turn off that light, idiot," the first man whispered sharply, over his shoulder. "This house is supposed to be empty!"

The light went off. "I can't see!" the second man whispered.

"Eat more carrots," the first man said, and Lois could hear the sarcasm dripping from the whisper. "Come on! We need to get back to the boat or they'll leave us behind."

Boat? There was a boat?

Of course there had to be, she realized at once and kicked herself figuratively for not realizing it earlier. If these people were smuggling in something, where else was it going to come from?

There was silence for a moment and then the front door opened and closed softly. Lois let out her breath.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered. "There's a smuggling boat!"

Henderson switched on his light. "Where would somebody hide a boat around here?"

They looked at each other in the illumination of the flashlight.

"Wilson's Cove," Clark said. "It's only a little north of here, and there's half a dozen inlets at least that somebody could run a small boat into and not have it seen because of the water plants and stuff."

Of course, Lois thought. Wilson's Cove was ten square miles of land that had been set aside some fifteen years previously as a sea-life and waterfowl refuge. There had been a massive cleanup of a neglected area of the coastline, and it would be a perfect place for their smugglers to conceal a smuggling craft.

"Let's go!" Lois said.

"Are you out of your mind, Lane?" Henderson said. "It's dark as pitch out there, not to mention there's four inches of snow on the ground, with more coming down, and this boat could be in any one of the inlets."

"You're just going to let them get away?" Lois demanded.

"This time, yes. The merchandise has apparently already wound up in Cost Mart anyhow. What would I charge them with, if there's no evidence? And if they see us, we tip them off that we know about their game. I'm going to come back tomorrow, with a team, and see what I can find. Then, the next time, we can be waiting for them." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Trust me. I have no intention of letting this lot get away, but I need to find out more before I move." He held her eyes steadily for several seconds. "They'll be back. We've been investigating this case for months. We'll get them, Lois."

"Do we get an exclusive?" Lois demanded.

Henderson chuckled mordantly. "Why doesn't that question surprise me? You have my word."

**********

Henderson pulled his car up to the curb in front of Clark Kent's apartment. The Inspector didn't cut the engine, but he gave Clark the faintest of smiles. "I hate to admit that the two of you have gotten farther than the Department has, but I will. Thanks, Kent. You'll be hearing from me."

"Thanks, Henderson." Clark opened the door and smiled at Lois. "See you at work tomorrow, partner."

Lois nodded. "Lock your door," she instructed, surprising herself.

Clark nodded soberly. "I will," he said. "There's too many unexplained pieces to this puzzle to take stupid chances." He looked back at Henderson. "Make sure she's safe inside before you drive off."

Henderson smiled grimly. "Two great minds," he said briefly. "I will."

Clark opened the door and got out. Henderson kept his car idling by the curb until Lois saw Clark open his door, enter, and close it behind him.

The snow had lightened again, but it definitely hadn't stopped. Henderson turned up his windshield wipers before pulling out onto the street again. The blades swooshed the ice crusts away, clearing the windshield somewhat, although tiny flakes coated it again almost instantly. "This has probably been one of the most -- interesting evenings of my life," the Inspector remarked. "Tell me you and Kent don't do this kind of thing often."

Lois shook her head smiling a little. "I have to admit this has been a pretty weird day," she said, "but we've done stranger things."

Henderson gave a bark of laughter. "I don't think I want to know what they were. I want you to promise me you'll lock your doors and windows once you're inside your place, Lane. Like Kent said, there's too many unexplained pieces to this puzzle to take chances. Not to mention, we've still got six bodies drained of blood, and a mysterious employee of Cost Mart, that turned up very conveniently, to rescue you. If he knows who you are, he can find out where you live pretty easily. He may be a good guy, but until we know for sure, don't take any chances. Or am I talking to myself?"

Lois suppressed the tiniest of chills that tried to tingle its way across her scalp. "Not this time."

"Good." Henderson swung his car around the corner, drove down half the block and pulled a U-turn in the middle of the street, coming to a stop at the curb in front of her apartment. He cut the engine. "Here we are. He opened his door. "Come on."

"Where are you going?" she asked in surprise.

"I'm walking you to your door, just to be on the safe side. You can bet Brunner's bosses know you were sneaking around in the back of the store, and that he locked you in that room. They know you're suspicious of them, and you know what happened to my men. I don't want to find your body drained of blood lying around somewhere." She couldn't read his expression, but something told her that arguing with him would be futile. She opened her door and got out, locking it behind her.

Henderson closed and locked his door as well. In silence, they ascended the steps to her apartment house, and he waited while she used her tenant's key to open the door, and then followed her inside.

"You men," Lois said, a little crossly. "I'm not a helpless female, you know."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that," Henderson admitted. "Humor me, all right?"

"Hmmph!" Lois didn't argue further and secretly was a little relieved that he had insisted on going with her, but admitting it to him was not going to happen. They arrived at the elevator in silence and Lois punched the call button.

She heard the familiar clunk and squeak as the elevator went reluctantly into action, and a moment later the doors opened. She boarded, followed by Henderson. She glanced at her watch. "It's nearly three in the morning."

"Time flies when you're having fun," Henderson replied. He punched the button for the fifth floor.

"Yeah, I guess," Lois said. The elevator lurched into motion and rumbled slowly upward. After an interminable time, it came to a stop on the fifth floor with a wheeze of exhaustion and the doors moved reluctantly open.

The apartment house was completely silent as they stepped out into the hall, except for the faint throb of the furnace that kept the interior at a temperature somewhat higher than the outer air. The thin, ancient carpet of the hallway did little to muffle their footsteps as they made their way toward apartment 501. Lois fumbled in her bag for her keys.

Standing outside the door as she unlocked her numerous locks one by one, Lois became aware of an icy draft, coming from beneath her door. She glanced down, but could see nothing.

Henderson must have been more alert than she realized. He looked sharply at her. "What?"

"There's cold air coming from under my door, but the heater was on when Clark and I left, earlier."

Henderson moved to one side of the door, drew his .38 and shoved her unceremoniously behind him. Very cautiously, he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Pitch blackness met their gaze. Henderson didn't take his eyes from the dark aperture, nor did he move. "Did you leave the lights off when you left?"

She shook her head, aware that her heart had begun to thump uncomfortably hard in her chest. Henderson reached into his pocket and produced his flashlight. Very cautiously, he thrust it past the doorframe and switched it on.

The room appeared to be empty, but the Inspector seemed in no hurry to enter. Lois strained her ears, trying to hear any sound, but outside of the swish of warm air through the vent behind her, there was nothing.

Except that the apartment was icy cold.

"Maybe there's a window open," she suggested.

"Did you leave any windows open?"

"One of the living room windows was unlocked," she said. "It wasn't open, though. It opens on the side of the apartment house."

Henderson flashed his light cautiously around the room. Nothing moved. Very slowly, he reached around the door to flip on the lights.

Nothing happened. "Lights are out," he said shortly. He still appeared to be in no hurry to enter. Again, he flashed the light around. "Stay here."

Lois nodded. Henderson moved forward with unexpected speed, his feet almost silent on the thin carpet. He ducked around the door quickly, minimizing the instant where he was silhouetted against the lighter hall.

Nothing happened. Lois waited for what seemed hours. "Can I come in?" she asked finally.

"Stay there," Henderson's voice said.

Time seemed to stretch interminably. "The window's wide open," Henderson's voice said suddenly. "Someone's been here."

"Can I come in?" Lois asked again.

"Come in and close the door, but stay next to it." Henderson's voice sounded a little less grim. "Whoever was here is gone."

Lois obeyed with uncharacteristic meekness. Henderson exited her bedroom back into the living room. "I think you'd better pack up a change of clothes and check into a motel tonight," he said. "I'm going to call the Precinct and bring in a couple of men to check this place over."

Outside the open window, something moved. Lois couldn't contain a gasp of shock, and Henderson spun, his .38 lifting.

A dark shadow floated there, and out of it peered a white face, glaring in at them. It came through the window in a blast of cold air.

A man in a dark, form-fitting overcoat, a narrow, pale face with dark, piercing eyes, a head of thick, black hair, and a thin-lipped mouth. The mouth opened, baring white teeth, and revealing elongated canines.

Henderson raised his weapon. "Freeze!"

The teeth flashed in a feral grin, and the creature moved toward them.

Henderson's snubnose spoke sharply, twice. Two holes appeared in the overcoat right over the heart.

The intruder must have felt the impact of the bullets, for he jerked sharply, but he didn't fall. His lips peeled back, giving them a clear view of the fangs, and he stepped forward again, toward Lois.

Lois moved almost instinctively. She ripped open her jacket, reached down the neck of the knitted sweater that she wore under it and encountered her grandmother's gift. She yanked it out, snapping the slender chain, and held up the tiny, silver cross, gleaming in the grey moonlight filtering through the window.

The man fell back with a snarl. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, and then suddenly, he was gone through the window, and had vanished.

Henderson and Lois stared at each other for an instant, and then Henderson rushed to the window to peer out.

Lois sank down in the nearest chair, her legs literally unable to hold her upright. "Where did he go? Do you see him?"

Henderson pulled his head back inside. "No. Too dark, and too much snow." He looked at his .38. "I don't believe in vampires," he said firmly. "I'm a cop. Vampires don't exist." He glanced at Lois. "Are you all right?"

She nodded shakily.

"Good. Come on. You're not staying here tonight."

"Can you take me back to Clark's?" she whispered.

"Yeah. Grab some night gear, and let's go." Henderson looked again at the .38 and then examined the floor where the apparent vampire had stood. "No blood. I don't know what that was, but it wasn't a vampire."

"Are you sure?" Lois whispered. Somehow whispering seemed to be appropriate for the situation.

"I'm sure," Henderson said firmly. "And I'm going to prove it."

Part 14

High above Wilson's Cove, Superman circled, scanning the snowy landscape below him for signs of the smugglers' presence. With deliberation and meticulous care, examining every inch of the ground beneath, he floated over each of the seven inlets, searching for an indication that a boat had moored there, that men had hauled packs of smuggled goods from that mooring place, through the snow, mud and sand, to the small vacation cottage at the nearer end of neighboring Mariner's Cove.

The inlets could easily conceal a boat, he thought. Tall water reeds and small, spindly trees grew thickly here, and obscured vision even from above. It would take a small miracle if anyone were to find such indications unless one knew exactly where to look, or unless the boat was, for some reason, still there.

It wasn't, of course, but looking down from above, he became aware of a narrow, winding foot trail, mostly masked by the vegetation, tracked through the undergrowth and now rapidly filling with snow. If he, Lois and Henderson had tried to find it on foot, they would still be searching.

Having found the path, it was the matter of a few moments for him to track it from the resort, two miles to the third of the narrow inlets, where it ended at the water's edge. The reeds were trampled at that spot where men had apparently unloaded the goods. Clark marked it carefully in his memory, sighting in on several landmarks visible from his vantage point. He intended to make sure that Henderson saw this.

In the distance, the Metropolis Bell Tower chimed three o'clock. Well, perhaps he could wait until tomorrow morning, he decided. It seemed unlikely that anyone would come around here to do anything about the marks left by the smuggling crew. Unless one knew where they came from, they would mean nothing; besides who was likely to come wandering around in a marsh at three in the morning with the snow coming down and a very cold, damp wind making the conditions even more unwelcoming?

Making a loop in the air, he turned and headed toward Clark Kent's apartment.

Even at this hour, and in these weather conditions, Metropolis was still awake. He had never really seen the city when it was completely quiet. Passing over the Bayside Expressway, he was in time to see an eighteen wheeler begin to drift into the meridian. The front left wheel struck the divider and the truck slewed, beginning to tilt. He shot downward to catch and right the huge vehicle, seeing as he did so the driver jerk himself awake. He brought the truck to a standstill and walked around to the driver's cab.

"Are you all right?"

The trucker nodded, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled fingers. "Y-- yeah," he stammered. "Thanks, Superman."

"There's a rest stop about three miles ahead," Clark told him. "I suggest you pull into it and get a couple of hours of sleep."

The man nodded. "I will. I promise."

"Beating your time schedule isn't worth it if you get killed," Superman pointed out, a hint of sternness in his voice.

The trucker nodded again. "Don't worry. I'll do exactly what you said."

"Good." Clark lifted off and watched for several minutes while the trucker started his truck up once more, and ten minutes later, true to his promise, was pulling the truck into the rest area. Satisfied that the man had taken his words to heart, Clark accelerated back toward his apartment.

As usual, before entering his apartment via the window, he paused to survey the area below him. His apartment was empty, but a very familiar car had pulled into the empty space in front of his apartment building. As he watched, William Henderson got out of the car, and Lois opened the passenger door. It was clear that they were headed for the steps to his apartment.

Something must have happened, Clark thought. Why wasn't he surprised? At least, no one seemed to be hurt, but he'd better be where he was supposed to be when they knocked.

Accelerating sharply, Superman zipped through the window of Clark Kent's apartment and closed it behind him. A moment later, Lois Lane rapped on his front door.

Clark waited. It would be best, he figured, not to appear to be right on the ball when someone knocked on his door at this hour. After all, he was supposed to have been asleep. Almost immediately, Lois rapped again, more urgently, and her voice called, "Clark? Clark, wake up! Are you there? Are you all right?"

"Just a minute!" he called back. He grabbed a T-shirt, ran a hand through his hair to ruffle it somewhat, and made his way to the door.

Lois and Bill Henderson were standing there, and Henderson was holding Lois's small, overnight case. Yep, something had happened, all right.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

Lois opened her mouth, but Henderson cut across her first word. "Kent, I need to get back to Lois's apartment. I've got a cop standing guard, but I want to be there when my team arrives. She needs to stay here tonight."

Clark felt his eyebrows rise involuntarily. He reached out to take the overnight case and stood back, opening the door wider. "Come in," he invited.

Henderson shook his head, giving Lois a light push. "Lane will tell you what happened," he said briefly. "I need to get back. Lock your door and windows." He added to Lois, "I'll give you a call when I find out more."

Lois, uncharacteristically, merely nodded. "Thanks, Bill," she said soberly.

The corner of Henderson's mouth twitched in a faint, one-sided grin. "Record this moment for history's sake," he told Clark. An instant later he had turned and hurried down the steps to his car, jumped behind the wheel and started the engine, all with his usual effortless efficiency. A moment later, his taillights were disappearing down the street. Clark found himself blinking after him, slightly bemused.

"Shut the door," Lois said. "It's cold."

Clark obeyed and turned the lock before looking at his partner. "What happened?" he asked.

"Is your bedroom window locked?" Lois asked, with apparent irrelevance. .

"Yeah. Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

His partner nodded, a little jerkily, and reached for her overnight case. "Yeah. It was really weird."

"What was weird?"

"Well," she said, "Bill doesn't think it was a vampire, and I don't either, really, but it sure looked like one. And I don't see how he could have gotten to my fifth story window unless he flew. I mean, the one by my kitchen has the fire escape next to it, but that one was locked. The side window to my living room opens on empty space, but he came through it."

"Who came through it?"

"The vampire. Or rather, the guy that wasn't a vampire." She shivered suddenly. "But he sure looked like one."

Clark sighed. "Would you mind starting from the beginning? Right now you're not making much sense."

"I know." Lois went past him down the short flight of steps into his living room. "Is it all right if I sleep on your couch?"

"You can have my bed," Clark said automatically. "I'll take the couch. Are you going to tell me what happened or not?"

"I can't take your bed," Lois said. "The couch will be fine."

Clark sighed. "Look, sit down a minute and I'll make some tea," he said. It was obvious to his experienced eye that his partner was on the edge of a full-fledged babble, which meant he wasn't going to get much sense out of her until she managed to unwind a little. Lois was one of the most hard-headed reporters in the business, but her way of handling stress tended to leave him slightly baffled. Besides, it was pretty obvious that unless he got her to relax, neither of them were going to get any sleep for the remaining short hours of the night. A glance at the wall clock told him it was past three-thirty, and even Superman needed a few hours of sleep. From the looks of things, tomorrow was likely to be a very busy day for both of them.

Lois sank onto the couch. "I like your furniture," she said, jumping from the subject of the not-vampire with her usual speed. "It's more beat-up than mine, but it's a lot more comfortable. I couldn't sleep on my couch, but yours is big, and wide, and soft. Mine's hard as a rock."

"I know," Clark said. "Try to relax while I put the hot water on, okay?" He turned and went into his kitchenette. "Is Oolong tea all right?"

"Is there more than one kind?" Lois asked.

"Yeah, but never mind. This will only take a minute."

Moving quickly, Clark filled up his kettle and set it on the stove to heat. Surreptitiously, he shot several darts of heat vision into the water to heat it more quickly. The water boiled in seconds, and he removed it from the stove and dropped in his scoops of tea leaves, procured by Superman from a little shop in China. Collecting a pair of mugs on the way past, he rejoined Lois in the living room.

"Wow," Lois said. "That was fast."

"I used hot water to start with," Clark said, mentally crossing his fingers. "It only took a minute to boil, but it still has to steep. Just a second and I'll get your sweetener and the sugar." He set the pot down on the table, careful to place it on a pot lifter in respect for his mother's old coffee table, and went back for the promised items. Back within seconds, he set them on the table, and then seated himself next to Lois on the sofa.

"There," he said, smiling at her. "Now, while the tea steeps, do you want to tell me what happened?"

"Yeah." Lois was watching the curl of steam arising from the kettle, not looking at him. "It was really weird. Kind of scary, too."

"I figured that out," Clark said. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

"Everything was okay until Henderson and I got to my apartment door," Lois said. "While I was unlocking my door, I noticed that cold air was coming out from under the door …."

She went on to describe the events in her apartment. While she was talking, Clark checked the tea, and quietly filled one of the mugs, added sugar, and stirred it gently. Other than that, however, he simply listened without comment until she finished.

"So Henderson and I waited until the local cop got there and Bill told him to watch everything until he got back or the investigation team showed up," Lois concluded. She took a final sip of the tea that had quickly vanished while she spoke. "It was only a few minutes, and then he brought me over here."

Clark was silent for nearly a minute. "But Henderson said it wasn't a vampire," he said. "What do you think?"

"Well," Lois said slowly, "I don't think it was a vampire either. I don't believe in vampires. At least," she added, a little sheepishly, "I don't believe in them right now, sitting here next to you in a warm, lighted room with all the windows locked and the shutters closed, but back in my apartment I wasn't so sure."

"Yeah," Clark said. "You said you were wearing the silver cross your grandmother gave you. You know, if it was somebody pretending to be a vampire, he'd have to act like the cross drove him off. But you probably already thought of that."

"Yeah, I did -- but not right away." She reached into the pocket of her jacket and withdrew the little piece of jewelry on its silver chain. "I'll have to get the chain fixed tomorrow."

"Let me see it," Clark requested.

Lois dropped it into his hand and he examined it closely. After a second, he pushed his glasses up to make the job easier.

"I'm nearsighted," he explained to his partner. "I can see it better without the glasses." He squinted at the damage. "It looks like you just bent one of the links. I have a pair of tweezers in my tool chest. Want me to try and fix it?"

"Sure." Lois yawned, and listening to her heartbeat, Clark was somewhat relieved to realize that she had calmed considerably from the time she had arrived on his doorstep.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do with it," he said, pushing his glasses back firmly into place again. "In the meantime, why don't you go on into my room and change? You can have my bed, and --"

"I'm not taking your bed," Lois said firmly. "I'll sleep on the couch. It's almost as comfortable as my bed, and besides, you have that big glass window with no curtains. I don't want to wake up and find that guy staring through it at me."

She had a point, he had to admit. "All right. Go ahead and change. We both need to get a little sleep before tomorrow and it's past four."

Lois looked at her watch. "You're right. I didn't notice." She stood up. "I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep anyway, but I feel better than I did a while ago, so maybe it's not a lost cause."

"Maybe," Clark agreed with a slight smile. "There's something else to think about while you're changing. According to legend, a vampire can't enter a home without permission of the owner, and this guy came through your window without any problem. And second, do you think it's possible that your 'vampire' was wearing a bullet proof vest, by any chance?"

There was a slight pause. "I didn't think of that for some reason," Lois said. "That makes me feel better -- knowing there might be a logical, rational explanation for what happened. But why would this 'not-vampire' go after me?"

"Well --" Clark was slow to answer. "Brunner's bosses probably knew you were in that room in the basement, you know. You got out, and they have to know that, too. Maybe they think they can scare you off, especially with the other 'vampire' murders in the last few days. It wouldn't be the first time the bad guys have underestimated Lois Lane."

"I hadn't thought of that," Lois said. "You're right, and you're also right that they haven't scared me off."

"I knew that," Clark said calmly. "But the next time you decide to go snooping in the back rooms at Cost Mart, do you think you could wait for me? If it hadn't been for your mystery man this evening, you might still be stuck in that room."

Lois nodded. "All right; just this once," she conceded. "Just don't think I'm going to make a habit of it."

Part 15

Naturally, Lois overslept. She became slowly aware that her bed wasn't the one she was used to, although it was quite soft and comfortable. She opened her eyes to discover that she was sleeping on Clark's couch. A downy feather pillow was tucked under her right ear, and a thick, warm quilt covered her. From Clark's kitchenette, the rich aroma of coffee being made drifted through the air, along with the unmistakable smell of frying eggs and bacon. The sun was shining brightly through the side window, and through it she caught a glimpse of a cloudless blue sky. The snowstorm had apparently passed.

Slowly, the events of the previous day and night came back to her and she had to remind herself firmly that any hypothetical vampires that had been running around the city last night would not be able to go outside in the daylight. If it hadn't been a vampire -- and really, that was most likely, after all -- then he was human and therefore no more difficult or dangerous to deal with than any other garden-variety crook. However, it somehow seemed later than the usual time she woke up. A glance at her watch brought her into a sitting position so quickly that she felt light-headed for a moment and had to flop back down on the sofa.

"Lois?" It was Clark's voice, speaking from the entrance to the kitchenette. "Are you all right?"

Slowly, she sat up again. "It's ten-fifteen! We're late! Perry's going to kill us!"

"No he's not. I called him and told him what happened last night. Henderson had already called him and told him you were safe. He said not to wake you up." He crossed the room to her and set a cup of coffee down on the slightly battered coffee table. "Here you go. Fixed just the way you like it at the office."

It smelled a lot better than the office java, Lois thought, reflecting guiltily on the fact that she hadn't called her boss last night to let him know that she was all right. On the other hand, she rationalized, she hadn't known that he was looking for her or had been worried about her safety. She picked up the coffee cup, blew on it gently and took a sip. It was definitely better than the office brew, as might be expected, and Clark had fixed it exactly as she liked it. She took another sip, savoring the taste. Whether she would admit it aloud or not, Clark made a killer cup of coffee.

"I'm getting breakfast," Clark said. "Bacon and eggs and pancakes. It should be ready by the time you are. Then, I was thinking we should call Bill and see what, if anything, he managed to find out after he dropped you off here last night."

"If he's at his office at all," Lois pointed out. "He might sleep late after spending the whole night awake. He probably didn't get to bed before five or six. Besides, I have a better idea."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I want to go over to the Museum of Natural History and see if we can find the deerskin thingy that Henderson was talking about last night -- the one with the symbols like the ones on the wall in the Indian crypt. And maybe we can find out something about this legend he mentioned. It probably doesn't have anything to do with the case, but I'd like to know about it, just to be sure, so we can rule out hypothetical American Indian vampires. And then we can decide what to do about finding where the smugglers brought their cargo ashore."

"I don't know about that last part," Clark said. "We don't want to screw up Henderson's investigation."

"We won't," Lois said. "If we find it, we can show him where it is. And we won't disturb anything. There's no way I want this batch to get away with this stuff. I hate drug dealers more than just about anything else -- except maybe rats," she added parenthetically. "Anyhow, that's for later. First, I want to find out everything we can about the local inhabitants when the settlers first came to New Troy. I want to be sure there were no vampire legends to worry about."

"I can't argue with that," Clark said. "There's something else I'd like to do, before we start prowling around in Wilson's Cove, though. I want to take a look around your apartment house. Your non-vampire guy last night 'flew'. Unless he's another Superman clone, he must have faked it, somehow. I want to see if we can figure it out, if Henderson hasn't already done it. Go ahead and get ready, and after we've had breakfast, we'll go on over. I figure you'd better eat. It might get pretty busy today."

Sometimes, Clark had some pretty good ideas, she thought. "Right. Do you mind if I get a five minute shower?"

**********

But Lois discovered that she had underestimated William Henderson. When they arrived at the Metropolis Museum of Natural History an hour later, William Henderson was just ascending the flight of steps that led to the entrance. The man regarded the two of them with his usual deadpan expression.

"Fancy meeting you two here," he remarked. "Somehow, I suspect this isn't a chance encounter."

"Don't you ever sleep?" Lois asked.

"I got a couple of hours this morning. There's a couch in my office, in case you've forgotten."

Recalling the battered leather couch that sat against one wall of Henderson's office, Lois's respect for the officer rose a notch. If he could sleep on that scratchy, hard piece of furniture, he was tougher than she had realized. "I remember. We came over to see if we could get a look at the deerskin thingy you were talking about last night. Mind if we go along with you?"

Not a muscle twitched in the Inspector's face. "I can't stop you. Come on." He ascended the flight of steps and pushed open the glass doors of the establishment.

The museum's visitors were thin at this time in the morning. A small crowd of children of about the third or fourth grade level were following a teacher and a uniformed museum employee through an exhibit of some kind of primitive art in one section of the first large main room. The children looked bored, as might be expected, Lois thought. Henderson led the way without hesitation to one of the smaller rooms in the back, opening off the main section. Lois had been in the museum once or twice, but this particular room had never come to her attention before. She followed the Inspector inside and looked around, wondering where the stuff about the deerskin hieroglyphics was kept. And where did you find out about Native American legends? Weren't they supposed to have some kind of explanations about this stuff beside the exhibits, or something?

The artifacts weren't much to look at from her perspective, although an archeologist would probably get a lot out of them, she figured. The relics of the civilization that had existed on the site of New Troy looked pretty much like any of the other ones she had seen when her high school history class had come here to see the mock-up of the settlement at Plymouth Rock. There were models of the box-like dwellings, the examples of art and deerskin clothing, and arrowheads found on the sites of the villages, and various implements that meant nothing to her. Natural history had never been one of Lois's areas of interest.

Henderson headed directly across the room to the exhibit portraying the tribal medicine man, the elaborate ceremonial clothing that he had worn, and the various tools of his trade. And there it was. Hanging on the wall, incased in glass, was an animal skin, very pale in color, marked with the same kind of symbols they had seen inside the crypt.

Clark went past her to the exhibit and leaned forward, lifting his glasses as he had done the previous night with the silver chain that now hung around Lois's neck once more, and examined the parchment minutely.

"This was an albino deer," he remarked at last, shoving his glasses into place. "From what I've read, albino animals seemed to have had some kind of religious significance to the local natives."

Henderson glanced at him approvingly. "I see you've done your homework," he remarked. "Albino animals were considered the most effective against the evil spirits. This particular artifact belonged to one of their most powerful medicine men who was said to have tamed the blood spirits that threatened the tribe."

"Blood spirits?" Lois asked.

Henderson nodded. "Legend had it that there were blood spirits that would lure the youths away from home and feast on their blood."

Lois shivered. "Sort of like a vampire."

The corner of Henderson's mouth twitched. "Sort of. Anyhow, this guy, whoever he was, was a legend, sort of a demi-god to the tribe. He was said to have taken the power of the blood spirits from them in a great battle by absorbing it himself, and died as a result, but his spirit remained to guard his people as long as they lived in his sacred land." He pointed to a plaque under the deerskin. "Another version says he became a shade by day and was only solid by night. After the white settlers came, his protection extended to them. The only price was that he had to have blood to sustain him as well, and the hunger would take over his soul until he was fed. The tribe regarded it as the price it must pay for his protection."

"Sounds like a two-edged sword," Clark said.

Henderson shrugged. "According to the legend, the medicine man's spirit only fed on the worst of the tribe. The criminals, the spreaders of discord, the slothful, which no primitive people could afford to have. I suspect that part was added later -- sort of a moral lesson to the kids not to shirk their duties or misbehave, or the guardian would come after them."

"That makes sense," Clark agreed. "A lot of cultures have legends of bogeymen, who come after naughty kids, meant to enforce good behavior. I guess you had time this morning to do a little research, huh?"

"Now that you mention it, I did. The crypt you found sounds as if it's tied in with the legend. I wonder if our friends at Cost Mart investigated it and maybe decided to adapt the legend for their own reasons."

"I guess it's possible," Clark said. "We've seen crazier things."

Lois nodded, somewhat relieved to know that there could be a normal explanation for all the weirdness of the past few days. "What about the guy last night? Did your people find anything?"

"We're still investigating," Henderson said. "Assuming that it wasn't a vampire, I'd guess that it was someone rigged up to look like one. He probably wore a bullet proof vest on the chance that he could run into someone with a gun, like me, escorting you to your place."

"That's taking quite a risk," Clark observed.

"Some," Henderson agreed. "But most of the people running around with guns are cops. We're trained to shoot at the torso. Biggest target," he added. "I find it very interesting that the lights were out, by the by. The circuit breaker had been tripped. If the guy wore some kind of harness so he could 'fly' that would be necessary to keep you from seeing it, wouldn't it, Lane?"

Lois nodded. "I guess so. Did you find any place where he could have anchored a rope? I didn't hear a helicopter or anything."

"We're still checking," Henderson said. "I don't expect it to be obvious."

"Yeah -- probably not," Lois admitted.

"Maybe I could ask Superman to look around," Clark suggested. "He's very interested in solving this thing, too."

"I was going to ask you about that," Henderson said. "I'd appreciate it."

"You make me feel better," Lois said. "I don't really believe in vampires, but --"

"Yeah, I know," Henderson said. "I don't either, but for a few seconds there I had my doubts."

Lois found herself grinning slightly and had to compose her features before she glanced at him. "Are you sure you feel all right, Bill?"

"Call it momentary weakness from fatigue," Henderson said, completely deadpan. "Once we figure all this out, maybe I can get a decent night's sleep again. In the meantime, I'm just going to keep plugging."

"What about Wilson's Cove?" Lois asked.

"What about it?"

"Aren't you trying to find the place where their boat docked, so they could bring their drugs ashore?"

"Sure," Henderson said mildly. "But there's a lot of land to search and we don't want to chance missing anything -- or let on to the bad guys that we might be onto them. My men are being careful. They'll report if they find anything." He paused and looked at her thoughtfully. "You stay away from it, Lane. The last thing I need is a reporter destroying evidence by trampling all over it. Leave it to my men. I've already promised you've got the exclusive if and when we find something."

"I won't destroy any evidence," Lois protested. "When have I messed with your evidence before?"

"District Attorney Drake had a few pointed things to say about you and her pager," Henderson observed. "Something to do with that Intergang witness that was in the hospital last month."

"I saved your witness's life!" Lois shot back, thoroughly annoyed.

"I know that," Henderson said mildly. "That's probably why Drake didn't charge you with petty theft -- that, and the fact that proving it would be a waste of time. For the record, the Department appreciates what you did, but don't push your luck. You'll have all the relevant information soon enough."

"Hmmph." Lois glared at him and received Henderson's most annoying deadpan look in return. "Well, when can I go back to my apartment?"

"Any time you want," Henderson said. "We're all finished with it. Just don't go prowling around on the roof for a while. We're still checking it out."

Clark cleared his throat. "Uh, I'll be right back. I need to visit the restroom."

Lois nodded absently as her partner made a quick exit from the room, and quelled her irritation. "How about Cost Mart itself? Are you watching it to make sure the drugs don't leave until you're ready to make some arrests?"

The Inspector nodded. "We've got cops all over the place, supposedly investigating the death of their manager and the two we found in the park last night. I doubt they'll risk moving their cargo until things quiet down again. That should stall things for a day or so, anyhow."

A gust of air blew Lois's hair into her face. She brushed it back into place, only to see Superman standing beside them. "Superman!"

"Hi, Lois," he said. "Inspector Henderson, Clark Kent called me last night and told me what you'd discovered. I took a look around in Wilson's Cove, and I may have found something you're looking for."

Henderson's left eyebrow rose. "And that would be …?"

"I think I may have found the spot where the drugs came ashore."

Part 16

Henderson's eyebrows both snapped up at this announcement. "Can you show me where?"

Superman produced a sheet of paper. "I drew you a map," he said, matter-of-factly.

Lois leaned forward to see past Henderson's body. Superman's map was so precisely drawn that it looked like a very high resolution photograph of that section of the Metropolitan coastline, and she found herself once again in awe of the Man of Steel's many talents. The drawing showed an aerial view of Mariner's Cove, and the vacation cottage where they had emerged from the Cost Mart tunnel, and the neighboring Wilson's Cove, the reeds, and trees, and the inlets, as well as a very narrow path winding its way through the vegetation, to a section of the third inlet where trampled grass showed evidence of recent human presence. Superman glanced apologetically at Henderson.

"I discovered this early this morning," he explained. "Before dawn. I would have gone back with photographic equipment, but I didn't want to be seen over the area by day. If the people behind this are watching, it might have given away the fact that we suspect what they're up to."

"Probably," Henderson said, studying the drawing with critical approval. "We could use you as a police artist down at the station. I take it these positional points are accurate?"

Superman nodded. "Yes, they are. I hope this helps."

"It should. Thanks." Henderson glanced at Lois. "Tell Kent I needed to take off. I'll let you know how it comes out."

"Now wait a --" Lois might have been speaking to a wall. Henderson was gone almost as fast as Superman could move, she thought in disgust. And, by the way, where was Superman? In the split instant that she had looked away, he had vanished as silently as a ghost.

Clark rounded the corner. "Where's Henderson?"

"Superman showed up with a map," Lois said. "He said he'd found where the drugs were landed. Come on!"

"Where are we going?"

"Over to Wilson's Cove, of course!"

Clark's eyebrows flew up but he said nothing. A few moments later, they were on the sidewalk, looking around unsuccessfully for a cab.

"Where's a cab when you need one?" Lois grumbled. "They were all over the place a little while ago!"

Clark was looking vainly up and down the street. "I don't see any."

Lois growled under her breath and then made up her mind. "Come on."

"Where?" Clark inquired, falling into step beside her.

"There's a pay phone on the next block. We'll call a cab."

"Do you know where every pay phone in the city is?" Clark inquired curiously, keeping pace with her easily as she started down the sidewalk at a brisk pace.

"Mostly. I've had to phone in stories from most of 'em," Lois said shortly. "It's a good thing I didn't wear heels today."

Ten minutes later, she stepped into the phone booth and grabbed for the telephone book dangling from its metal cable. A moment later, she was talking to the cab company representative who answered her call. Emerging triumphantly at last, she found Clark drinking what appeared to be coffee from a Styrofoam cup. "Where did you get that?"

He swallowed and nodded to the little booth a short distance away where a vendor was dispensing various drinks to passing citizens. "I got you a Cappuccino," he informed her, handing her a second capped container.

"Thanks." Lois accepted the drink. "The cab will be here in a minute. But I have a better idea than going over to Wilson's Cove."

"That was fast," Clark said, eyeing her with a slightly wary expression. "If we're not going to Wilson's Cove, where do you want to go?"

"Over to Mariner's Cove," Lois said.

"What for?"

"I figure Henderson can find the spot Superman told him about," Lois explained. "He's going to tell us about that anyway. I want to try to get a look around the guest cottages and see if we can find anything. We didn't really have much of a chance to look during the times we were there so far, but I don't think anyone's going to be hanging around there in broad daylight. Do you?"

"Well, except for the security guy," Clark pointed out in his usual maddeningly matter-of-fact way. "There's probably one there twenty-four/seven."

"We can get around him," Lois said confidently. "He'll never know we were there."

Clark opened his mouth and then closed it, which she took for assent, and a few minutes later, they were climbing into one of the rattier specimens of cabs from the Metro Cab Company. Lois gave the directions, and the vehicle took off with a shriek of abused tires. Hanging on grimly to Clark's arm with one hand and the door's safety grip with the other, Lois belatedly recalled the reason why she had vowed, for the thousandth time, never again to patronize a Metro cab when last she had had the misfortune to ride in one of these deathtraps, which had actually been this morning on the trip to the Metro Museum of Natural History. Why didn't she ever learn?

Amazingly enough, however, fifteen minutes later the cab rocketed to a stop at the curb, unscathed, and the driver glanced back at his shattered passengers. "That'll be sixty-four thirty-one," he informed them.

Wordlessly, Clark released his own grip on the seat where his fingers had left deep impressions in the cracked faux-leather and reached for his wallet. A moment later, they were standing on the sidewalk as the vehicle peeled away from the curb amid a blast of exhaust fumes and a screech of tires. Lois took a ragged breath and looked at her partner.

"After we're done, maybe we could take a bus back," she suggested.

"That's one of the better suggestions I've heard today," Clark said.

"Well, that's for later," Lois said, returning single-mindedly to business. "The resort's down this way. Let's go."

Clark moved to the position between her and the street and they began to walk. "Why do you do that?" Lois asked.

"Do what?"

"You always walk on the outside."

"That's the way Mom and Dad always taught me," he said. "Manners."

Lois glanced at him oddly. "Manners?"

"Sure. The guy always walks between the woman and the street."

"To protect her from dirt thrown by the horses?" she asked with a grin.

He grinned back. "Well, that was where the custom came from," he agreed. "Or so I'm told. Now it's just good manners."

She shook her head. "Smallville must have been a fun place to grow up in."

"Actually, it was," Clark said imperturbably. "At least for me." He was looking carefully around as they approached the strip of land that marked the border of the vacation resort. Some distance beyond the first of the cheerful little cottages, the ocean looked bright and blue with sunlight reflecting off the waves. Gulls circled above the beach and as Lois watched, she saw one sweep by almost overhead and drop something that struck the sidewalk sharply. At once the bird swooped down to snatch up part of the dropped whatever-it-was, and several others followed. The first bird launched himself and flapped away, the others in pursuit.

"What was that all about?" Lois asked.

"The first guy had some kind of shellfish, like a clam or an oyster or something," Clark said. "Gulls drop them on stone -- or in this case, the sidewalk -- to crack the shell so they can get at the inside part. The other gulls saw him do it and tried to steal his dinner."

"Oh," Lois said. She looked sideways at him. "Don't tell me they had an ocean in Kansas, too."

"Huh? Oh." Clark grinned. "I collect trivia."

"Yeah, I'd almost forgotten." Lois stopped and stood surveying the landscape. "Do you see any sign of the security guy?"

"Not so far. Let's go on. As long as we stay on the sidewalk they won't bother us even if they see us. The house is the last one in the row -- the white one -- about four blocks farther on down."

"I know," Lois said, resuming her pace. "Try to act casual, but see if you can spot the guard."

"I'm looking," Clark told her. He sauntered along as if he had no place urgent to go and Lois walked beside him, trying not to hurry. Charging along the sidewalk as fast as she wanted to go was certain to attract unwelcome attention, and if there was a guard anywhere around he was bound to get curious if he saw her rushing along, but it wasn't easy to go slowly. Some hunch that she wasn't even fully aware of was urging her to hurry up and check out the house, that maybe they would find more answers to the questions they had been trying to answer for the last couple of days if they could just get inside and have a little time to look around in daylight.

"There he goes," Clark said in a low voice. Lois followed his gaze and saw the chubby figure of the resort's security guard strolling along the beach in the opposite direction. "He doesn't look like he's in much of a hurry."

"Keep walking," Lois said. "Wait until we get the cottage between us and him. He doesn't look like he's expecting any trouble."

Clark didn't answer, but he continued to stroll casually beside her as they approached the end of the strip of land that marked Mariner's Cove. Lois glanced carefully over her shoulder to assure herself that they were safely concealed by the bulk of the cottage before she stepped off the sidewalk and strode confidently toward the building.

Clark was still beside her, looking in the direction of the surf. The security guard wasn't in view, and Lois moved to the right, keeping the building between them and the spot where she had last seen the man.

Clark pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I think he's still headed the other way," he said, keeping his voice low. "Got your lock pick?"

"Better," Lois informed him. "I stuck a wad of chewing gum into the latch last night, just in case we needed to get back in today. Unless somebody found it, we shouldn't have any trouble."

Clark's expression didn't change, but he nodded matter-of-factly.

They reached the corner of the house and Lois flattened herself against the wooden side. Very cautiously, she sneaked an eye around the corner.

The guard was much farther away now, his back still toward them. She looked back at Clark. "Let's go."

Their footfalls were silent in the white sand. Quietly, they moved around to the wooden porch where residents of the duplex could sit on warm summer evenings and watch the waves rolling in. A swinging wooden seat hung from the overhanging porch roof on each end of the structure, and toward the center, two doors, one to each half of the duplex, were closed and blank. Lois moved to the one on the left and experimentally tugged on the knob.

After an instant's initial resistance, it came open, and she looked triumphantly at her partner. Clark's lips twitched, but he said nothing, and together, they slipped quietly inside.

The room was almost familiar to Lois by this time, although she had only seen it by the light of a flashlight before. The floors were of polished hardwood, and there was no furniture to be seen -- probably it was stored somewhere for the winter, Lois figured, to be taken out when the place was rented out to the well-heeled vacationers at the beginning of summer.

"There's the place where the basement door opens up," Clark said softly, pointing. "The closet's on the other side. I wonder if there's any kind of door opening from this side into the other half of the duplex."

"Maybe," Lois said. "Let's just look around for now, okay? I want to see if there's anything in here that we ought to know about."

Clark nodded, but Lois had the feeling he didn't entirely agree. Quietly, they moved past the alcove that housed the invisible trap door to the tunnel beneath Cost Mart's parking lot, and entered the back sections of the house.

A hallway led them to a small but elegant dining room and a kitchen with all the latest appliances. Lois observed the chrome dishwasher that looked as if it could handle the dirty dishes for a platoon of Marines, a stove with enough bells and whistles to satisfy the most exacting chef, and the formidable seven-foot matted steel refrigerator and freezer combination with attached icemaker, and briefly envied the next persons to enjoy the luxuries of this vacation cottage. But then, the place had been designed for well-to-do vacationers, so it wasn't really surprising, she supposed. On the opposite side from its entrance into the dining room, a door in the wall exited to what was probably the back steps.

On the other side of the hallway was a luxury bathroom with a tub the size of the Children's Pool at the Metro Public Beach, and a little farther down, three bedrooms with carpet that you could lose your feet in. The furniture, of course, wasn't in evidence, although she could see traces of where it had stood. A second, smaller, but no less luxurious bathroom attached to the master bedroom, but nowhere did they discover any sign of the criminal activities to which this place had been put two nights before.

In some disappointment, Lois turned back toward the front when Clark pulled her quickly into the smallest of the bedrooms and pushed the door gently shut.

"Clark! What are you --" she began when his hand closed over her mouth.

"Listen!"

Lois bit off the words mid-sentence.

From the direction of the living room, a door closed, and footsteps crossed the hardwood floor of the living room. The footsteps were abruptly muted as whoever it was apparently reached the carpeted hallway.

Clark tugged her wrist and she followed him as he crossed the room on silent feet and opened the closet door. They had barely entered the small room and pulled the door to, when the muffled footsteps paused outside the bedroom.

Lois held her breath.

Beside her, Clark moved softly, and then his hand was pulling her gently to the back of the closet. Lois went with the pull, expecting to encounter the wall.

"Duck your head," Clark's whisper directed. Lois obeyed.

It was just as dark, but somehow the closet seemed larger now than it should have been. There was the impression of more space around her. Clark reached past her and she heard the faintest of scrapes, as of a sliding panel, and then a soft click.

"What --"

"There was a sliding door in the back of the closet," Clark said, keeping his voice so low that she had to strain to hear the words. "I think we're in the other side of the duplex."

Lois reached back the way she had come, and her hand encountered polished wood. Then there was the faint sound of a latch turning, and a line of light appeared, at once showing her that they were in the mirror image of the closet where they had just been. Clark's silhouette was pressed against the door, and her partner was obviously taking in the lay of the land. After several long seconds, he pushed it open.

Lois peered out into the room beyond. It was exactly the same as the one they had just left, and she was aware of a stab of disappointment.

But Clark was moving forward into the room, taking care to make no sound at all. Not knowing what they might encounter, she figured that made sense. Besides, there was somebody in the other side of the duplex that might hear them if they weren't careful.

Clark paused by the door which hung slightly ajar, and listened. Lois strained her ears, but could hear nothing but the distant sound of the surf. Still, it was highly suspicious that there had been a sliding door in the closet. She'd be willing to bet that it hadn't been part of the vacation cottage's original design.

"Hear anything?" she whispered, barely breathing the words.

He shook his head and pushed the door wider. Together, they tiptoed out into the hallway.

It was, as Lois expected, empty, however leaving now was probably impossible, at least if they were planning on doing so without being discovered. Clark had turned toward the master bedroom and Lois followed him, the back of her neck prickling. They had no way of knowing if whoever had entered the other side of the duplex was going to come in here next.

The master bedroom's door was closed, and Clark paused, listening for several seconds before he quietly turned the knob and pushed it open.

Part 17

Clark gently pushed the door open.

When he and Lois had entered the other half of the duplex, he had taken the opportunity to scan the house completely, and had seen what he was now aiming for.

The master bedroom, of course, was empty of furniture, and the door to the attached bathroom was closed. He turned toward it, listening intently for any sound in the structure. The footsteps of the person who had nearly intruded on them earlier had stopped but he could still hear the man's heartbeat. A glance with his X-ray vision over the tops of his glasses told him the fellow -- a thick-set, beefy man in the outfit of a Cost Mart employee -- was lifting the trap door that led to the passage under the Cost Mart parking lot. That was interesting. What was going on there this time?

But right now, the master bathroom was his destination. Moving quietly, Clark crossed the thick carpet of the bedroom, listened a moment, and opened the door.

Clark Kent was rarely caught by surprise in a situation such as this one. His better-than-human senses were always on the alert and warned him well in advance of any unexpected events that might decide to spring themselves on him but there were those few occasions that caught even him without warning. This was one of them.

He had already peeked into this room earlier, and knew that, although there was no one present to interfere with them, there was something else of interest in here -- several items that certainly did not belong in the luxurious bathroom of a vacation cottage. Listening now, before he opened the door, he had heard no sounds of breathing, and no heartbeat. The room was still uninhabited.

Or so he'd thought. There shouldn't have been anything alive in the room, but there was definitely someone present now when he opened the door.

At first he thought that he and Lois had stumbled on a corpse, for the man sleeping in the enormous bathtub lay deathly still. The blinds were pulled across the frosted glass of the window, blocking out the direct rays of the noon sun, but there was enough indirect light to see. Lois sucked in her breath in a shrill gasp at the sight of the figure, and the man's eyes opened.

Clark would have expected an expression of surprise in such a circumstance, which was odd to say the least, but the man looked at them calmly for several seconds and then slowly sat up. He surveyed them both with expressionless calm. Clark felt Lois's hand clutch his arm almost convulsively.

"It's him!" she said.

"Who?"

"This is the guy that rescued me from that room in Cost Mart!"

Clark looked sharply back at the man, who was now getting to his feet ."But not the one in your apartment last night?"

She shook her head. "No."

The unknown stepped from the tub with unimpaired calm, as if being found sleeping in a bathtub was an everyday event in his life. In the filtered light from the window Clark surveyed him with rigidly concealed interest.

On first appearance, he didn't seem particularly unusual. He was a short, slender brown-skinned man, dressed in slightly worn jeans and a green Cost Mart T-shirt with the Cost Mart logo on the left breast, which implied, at least, that he might stock shelves or do other basic duties for the store, and over it he wore a light jacket. His hair, eyebrows and eyes were of an almost glassy black, like obsidian, Clark thought. High cheekbones, a straight, full-lipped mouth and a firm, determined chin gave him a slightly Native American appearance. He stood straight, his shoulders back, and folded his arms casually across his chest in an almost Superman pose, watching the two of them stolidly.

Lois took a half-step forward. "You never gave me a chance to thank you last night."

The mystery man's mouth curled in a faint smile. "You are most welcome, Miss Lane." His strange, black eyes shifted to Clark. "And this is Mr. Kent, I presume." It was not a question.

Clark nodded. "And you are --?"

"A friend," the other man said, with another faint quirk of his lips.

"What are you doing here?" Lois asked.

"I do not wish to be found by the men of Cost Mart." The voice held a faint accent that Clark couldn't identify, and he thought he had heard most of the accents on Earth. "I concealed myself here, with samples of their wares until nightfall." He nodded at the two wrapped packages and the pair of automatic weapons lying in a long, wooden container in the corner, their surfaces gleaming slickly with oil. "I was unable to return to my usual quarters at the present time."

That was an odd way to put it. Clark frowned slightly. "Where would that be?"

The man glanced sideways at him. "That is not your concern. Are you able to contact your police inspector? I wished to show him this evidence, and speak to him of the men bringing these things into your city."

"We'll be seeing Henderson later," Lois said. "We could give him a message if you want."

The man nodded and gestured at the packages. "This is but a small sample of the death these men deal. They must be stopped. You must tell this Henderson that the shipments come in a vessel that sails beneath the surface of the sea. They wait now a little way from the shore to bring in more of these wares when his men no longer watch."

"A sub?" Lois said. She and Clark looked at each other. "That would explain why they haven't been picked up by the Coast Guard."

"Yeah," Clark said slowly. "It would, wouldn't it? If it's a small sub, and there's enough clearance in that inlet, it would be the perfect way to avoid detection by the authorities. Then they bring the goods into Cost Mart and distribute it from there."

"We can introduce you to Inspector Henderson if you like," Lois said. "I'm sure he'd like to talk to you."

"I dare not venture into the open now," the other man said. "Take my message to him. Bring him to this place where he may see these things."

Well, they couldn't force the guy to go with them, Clark supposed. "You'll be all right here?"

"Do not fear for me," Lois's mystery man said. "I shall be safe. Go now."

"You're sure?" Lois said. She glanced at Clark, looking a little uncertain.

The dark man's lips parted in a smile, and two rows of startlingly white teeth flashed for an instant. "I am sure. Time is, however, as I have heard said, of the essence. Tell your law enforcement officer what I have told you."

Clark made up his mind. "All right. Come on, Lois."

As the door closed behind them, Lois hesitated. "Should we leave him here? What if he's gone when we get back?"

"We can hardly drag him along against his will," Clark pointed out. "And I don't want to leave you here alone with him. He may have rescued you, but we don't know anything about him, really."

"Yeah." Lois kept her voice low. "There's something different about him. I don't know what it is."

Clark glanced back at the closed door. There was definitely something different about the mystery man, and the possibilities nearly raised the hair on his head. However, he simply nodded. "I know what you mean. Come on, though. We need to try to find Henderson."

"Won't he still be hunting around in Wilson's Cove?"

"Maybe," Clark said. "Or maybe he's just sent his people to do the hunting. If we can get out of here without being seen, maybe you can find the nearest pay phone and call the Precinct."

"There's one about two blocks from here," Lois said. "Do you think whoever that was next door is still there?"

Clark shrugged. "I don't hear anyone walking around," he said. "Do you?"

Actually the intruder, whoever he was, had descended the ladder down into the underground tunnel about the time they had encountered Lois's mystery man. There was no one in the vacation cottage now except themselves and the dark man in the master bathroom's tub. Assuming, Clark thought whimsically, that he had decided to continue his nap after they left.

Lois was silent, apparently listening. "No," she said at last. "But I don't want the security guy to spot us leaving, either. The other night, he probably thought we were just random trespassers, but after what happened yesterday I don't want to count on it."

"Me, either. If he reported it to his bosses, they might decide it was too dangerous to continue their operations, and we might not ever be able to pin it on them. That wouldn't be so good."

"That's for sure." Lois led the way out of the master bedroom, walking almost on tip toe. "We'll just have to be careful."

"Why don't we go out via the kitchen door?" Clark suggested. "That way we'll have the house between us and the beach."

Lois regarded him thoughtfully. "You know, for a farm boy, sometimes you have some pretty good ideas."

"We Kansas farm boys try to please, ma'am," he said, thickening his Midwestern drawl slightly.

"I've noticed that," Lois said. "Somehow, I'm starting to wish I was in Kansas right now, even with your Kansas oceans and Kansas sea gulls. I think all this creepy stuff is starting to get to me. I'd like a nice, straightforward, honest Corn Festival, with lots of handsome, corn fed farm boys to ogle instead of blood-drained bodies and vampires in the dark. A nice sunny day in Kansas is looking awfully attractive at the moment." She straightened her shoulders. "But, we've got a gang of smugglers to bring down, so let's get cracking."

**********

Their departure from the kitchen door of the duplex was without incident, however. When they were sauntering side by side down the sidewalk once more, Lois felt her shoulders relaxing.

"Hold it a minute," she said, after a moment.

Clark paused. "Something wrong?"

"No. I just need to empty the sand out of my shoes. Mind if I lean against you?"

Her partner's teeth flashed in a grin. "Never," he said. "Lean away."

Lois pulled off a shoe and shook the sand from it, utilizing her partner as a leaning post. He stood patiently while she completed the operation and steadied her while she re-tied the jogging shoes. "Now," he added, "Where is the nearest pay phone? You notice I'm relying on your expertise."

"Just over two blocks from here," Lois told him. "It's over by Petrovitch's Gas Station."

"Who?"

"It's one of the little independent stations," Lois informed him. "The owner's name is Harvey Brown."

"I thought you said the station was called Petrovitch's."

"It is, but the owner is Harvey Brown. Come on."

A short time later, Lois put down the phone. "He's not there. They don't know when he'll be back."

"Great." Clark had acquired a pair of canned sodas while Lois was on the phone. "Here, you probably need this."

Lois accepted the cream soda. "Thanks. Henderson's probably still mucking around in Wilson's Cove, when we have information he'd probably kill for. What do we do now?"

Clark was frowning. "Let's get back to the Planet. With a little luck, I might be able to get hold of Superman. He might be able to get to Henderson, wherever he is, and pass along the message. Where's the nearest bus stop?"

"We don't have time," Lois said. "I'll call a cab."

"I thought you didn't want to ride in any more Metro cabs," Clark reminded her.

"I don't, but we're in a hurry. At least cabs are fast," Lois pointed out, a little crossly. "If I thought we had a chance of finding him, I'd personally invade Wilson's Cove, but we'd probably miss him, or the Cost Mart goons would find us first, or something." She grabbed up the receiver. "Let's get this over with before I lose my nerve."

Clark hesitated, and then nodded. "You're right. Like our friend back there said, time is of the essence. I don't suppose your friend Harvey would loan you a car or something."

Lois put down the receiver. "Clark, you're a genius!"

Thirty minutes later, Lois pulled the rusty and battered pickup truck, reluctantly loaned to her by the owner of Petrovitch's Gas Station, into her parking space at the Daily Planet and cut the engine. "Come on; let's get up to the newsroom. I don't want to be seen in this thing."

"What's the matter with it?"

"It looks like it came from a junk yard!"

"Well," Clark unwisely pointed out, "Mr. Brown said he'd just finished renovating his other car."

"He was afraid the same thing would happen to it as happened to the last one," Lois grumbled. "It wasn't my fault that that drug kingpin in Suicide Slum had his goons blow it up. It was just lucky I wasn't in it. Harvey swore he'd never loan me another car."

"How come he loaned you this one, then?"

"Because he owed me a favor. Come on!"

Part 18

Lois rang for the elevator. Noting that the lighted number indicated that the elevator was on the ninth floor, Clark resigned himself to several minutes of waiting, and a question that had been circulating in the back of his mind surfaced. "Why didn't you ask the guy at the Precinct to get a message to Henderson?"

Lois shrugged. "We're talking about Intergang here. Remember what you said happened when you guys were investigating Lex last year. Henderson didn't tell anybody but the people he trusted 'cause he didn't know who might be on Lex's payroll. How do we know Intergang doesn't have plants in the police department?"

She had a point, Clark had to admit. When it came to the international crime syndicate, discretion was probably the safest course. He glanced at the indicator again. The car was now on the sixth floor. He shifted his weight and sighed. If Lois weren't with him, he'd take the stairs but Lois wasn't likely to go for walking from the underground lot up four flights of steps to the newsroom after all the running around they had been doing all day.

"What do you suppose that secret door in the closet was for?" Lois said.

"Good question. My guess would be to move stuff from one side to the other without going outside."

"Probably. I wonder who rented the house last summer."

"We can find out," Clark said. "Or, rather, Jimmy can find out for us."

"Yeah." Lois chewed on her lower lip, obviously still thinking. That, when they were involved in a complicated investigation, usually meant they were going to be doing something outrageous before long, Clark knew, but he said nothing. Lois wasn't going to change her mind just because he raised objections. He wondered, sometimes, why it was that most of the important women in his life tended to be Type A personalities. It just figured that Superman preferred high-maintenance women, of which Lois was a shining example. It was probably just as well that she didn't have super powers. He would never have been able to keep up with her. He barely managed as it was.

The elevator bell dinged at that instant and the doors slid open.

**********

Stepping out into the newsroom some minutes later, Clark could hear Perry's voice harassing the business editor, but he broke off at the sight of them. "Lane! Kent! In my office! Now!"

Clark glanced at his partner. "Here we go again," he remarked in an undertone. Lois rolled her eyes, but preceded him down the ramp, Clark trailing in her wake.

Their editor was already sitting behind his desk when they entered his office.

"Hi, Perry," Lois began. "I guess I should have called you last night, but I didn't know you were looking --"

"Clark called me this morning," Perry said, cutting directly to the point. "He told me some cock and bull story about a vampire in your apartment last night, and a lot of other things. Care to bring me up to date?"

Lois shrugged. "It's kind of a long story."

"I've got time." Perry fixed her with an uncompromising stare. "Why don't you sit down and tell me all about it?"

"Fine with me." Lois looked at Clark. "You need to take off and see if you can find Superman in the meantime. He needs to get hold of Henderson with that message as fast as he can."

Clark nodded. "I'll do my best. Excuse me, Chief."

Perry had opened his mouth to protest, but Lois spoke quickly into the silence. "I sort of ran into trouble over at Cost Mart. You know -- the one over by Mariner's Cove?"

"Yeah, I know. What were you doing over there?" Perry asked.

"Well, it had to do with those bodies that were found in the park," Lois said. "The ones that had been drained of blood."

"I figured that. I was there with Henderson when they found the manager, last night," Perry said. "The guy had been drained of blood, just like the ones in the park. If you've got any idea what in Memphis is going on, I want to hear it."

"All right, but it gets a little complicated. You remember, day before yesterday when they found the third body in the park --"

Clark slipped quietly out the door while Lois began the story of how they had decided to check out that particular Cost Mart, and made his way toward the stairs. The message Lois's rescuer had given them still needed to be delivered.

A bare minute later, Superman was touching down in front of the Twelfth Precinct. A quick scan of the building told him that William Henderson was just entering his office. He'd probably just returned from Wilson's Cove, Clark figured as he strode up the steps and opened the glass doors.

Sergeant West looked up from his study of a document on the desk before him. "Hello, Superman. Can I help you?"

"I hope so," Clark said. "Is Henderson here? I need to speak to him."

The sergeant didn't bat an eye. "I'll see if he's got a minute." He did something to the board in front of him and spoke. "Inspector? Superman's here. He wants to see you."

"Send him in." Henderson's voice was a trifle scratchy over the intercom, but perfectly recognizable.

The sergeant looked back at Clark. "Go on in."

"Thank you." Clark went past him, his red cape waving behind him.

Henderson looked up from his computer screen as Clark rapped lightly on his doorframe. "I guess this isn't a social visit."

"No. I've got a message for you."

"And?"

"I need you to come with me," Clark said. "The message is from the guy that rescued Lois, last night. He needs to talk to you."

Henderson got to his feet. "I've been wanting to talk to him," he said. "Where?"

"I'll take you there," Clark said.

**********

Henderson didn't answer, but followed Superman as the hero led the way out the side door of the building a short distance from Henderson's office.

Apparently, Henderson realized, the Man of Steel intended to fly him to wherever Lois Lane's mysterious rescuer awaited him. Evidently the man was unwilling to come to the Precinct in person, and considering the grisly deaths of the manager and his two subordinates the night before, he guessed he couldn't really blame him.

He had never flown with Superman before, although he knew from observation that Superman had transported literally hundreds, if not thousands, of people by air during rescues. He had seen Superman lift trucks and cars from the ground, and had even seen him land a jumbo jet, and once, on television, had witnessed the hero bringing in the Space Shuttle. He would rather have literally died before he would admit that the thought of actually flying with Superman made him nervous. If Lois Lane could casually accept a lift from Superman, Henderson wasn't about to allow anyone to know that the idea intimidated him.

"One thing," he said. "I'll go with you, but not like you carry Lane."

Superman's teeth flashed in an unexpected grin. "Don't worry."

He stepped forward, clamped an arm around Henderson and in an instant they were in the air, and Henderson was watching the Twelfth Precinct dropping away beneath him.

Henderson let out his breath. The sensation was unlike flying in any man-made aircraft. For one thing, there was no sense of acceleration, and no feeling of weight, either.

"Interesting," he said finally. "It's different than I imagined."

Superman gave a slight grin. "Different principles of flight," he said. "I cancel gravity, somehow, and control my direction mentally."

"How?" Henderson asked, curiously.

"I have no idea," Superman said. "I want it to happen and it does. Anyhow, that isn't what's important right now."

Henderson pulled his thoughts from the flight and back to business. "I take it Lois's rescuer doesn't want to be seen in public?"

"I assume so." Superman didn't seem quite sure. "When Lois and Clark talked to him he was more or less hiding in the vacation cottage the three of you were in last night. He says he has some information for you, and asked them to get a message to you. Hopefully he's still there."

"I hope so too. Maybe he can answer some questions."

"Maybe." They were dropping toward the vacation cottage as Superman spoke. "I'm going to take you in fast, to avoid the Security patrol."

Henderson nodded and almost unconsciously braced himself for a burst of speed, but there was no such sensation. The scenery around him blurred for an instant, and Henderson found himself standing on the front porch of the vacation cottage where he had emerged from the tunnel the night before. Superman quietly opened the door on the right and gestured him inside.

"We were in the other side of the duplex," Henderson felt obliged to inform him in a low voice.

"I know. But he's in here -- or he was when Lois and Clark talked to him." Superman's voice was also lowered. "This way."

This side of the duplex was a mirror image of the one Henderson had been in last night, at least from what he could see. They progressed through a well-equipped kitchen and emerged into the hallway that had opened from the living room. Superman turned left and led the way past three more closed doors to the one at the end, which opened upon what must be the master bedroom. It was empty, of course, but Henderson noted where sliding doors apparently concealed a large closet, and a closed door to one side that must be the master bathroom.

Superman paused for a second, his eyes narrowing briefly, but then he crossed the bedroom and knocked lightly on the bathroom door.

There was a moment's wait and then the door opened on well-lubricated hinges, and Henderson got his first look at the man who had seemed to inject himself into this very odd situation for no reason that anyone knew.

He was short and slender in build, but somehow gave the impression of controlled power, even just standing in the doorway. His skin was brown, his eyes, eyebrows and hair so black that they had almost a blue tinge in the dimness of the room. He surveyed Superman and Henderson expressionlessly for several seconds.

"I see you have brought your officer of the law. I believe you are called Henderson, are you not?"

Henderson nodded. "Yes. And you are?"

The man's full lips twitched at the corners. "You may call me a friend. I wished to show you samples of the wares in which the men of Cost Mart traffic. Come in."

He stepped back from the bathroom door and gestured them inside.

Henderson's gaze was drawn instantly to the weapons lying in a long wooden crate against one wall. "They're bringing in weapons."

"And more." He gestured with one hand at the wrapped packages. "In there you will find more of the substance Miss Lane brought you last night. There is a great deal of it in the sub-basement of this Cost Mart. There is more waiting to be brought in after your men have withdrawn."

"Where?"

"A vessel waits off shore," the man told him. "It sails beneath the surface of the sea, and its cargo is death."

Henderson detached the tape holding the package shut and assured himself of the contents. "If this is what I think it is, I'm holding a small fortune in heroin here," he observed.

Superman nodded, his expression unreadable.

"You say they're waiting for me to remove my men?" he asked the mystery man.

"Of course. They fear discovery."

"I'll bet," Henderson murmured. He carefully closed and sealed the package once more.

"This underwater craft will sail into the area you call Wilson's Cove," the man continued. "The third inlet is deep enough to allow it passage. It is there that they deliver their cargo to those who transport it to the basement of Cost Mart through the tunnel, which you explored last night."

Henderson raised an eyebrow. "How did you know that? Did Lane or Kent tell you we were there?"

"I have my ways," the other man said. "Rest assured that no one else knows this, however. I leave the remainder to you, as you are the guardian of this place in this time."

That seemed like an odd way to express it. Henderson was silent, regarding the man a little warily. Something about the stranger made the short hairs on the back of his neck want to rise, and what he called his "detective sense" stirred. Still, he had no feeling of threat from the other, but there was something definitely strange about him. "Thanks," he said finally. "Can you tell me when the next delivery will be?"

"There will not be another until your men are withdrawn," the other said. "These men have limited fuel, however. If they cannot make their delivery soon, it may be weeks before they return."

"All right." Again Henderson looked him over, but he was just a slender brown-skinned man in a green Cost Mart T-shirt and jeans. The fact that he gave Henderson a mild case of the willies was probably no more than his imagination. "I'll deal with it. What about you?"

"I shall wait here for a short while, still," the dark man replied. "It will be dark soon and I may leave this place unremarked by the man who watches. It would not be well, otherwise. You will take this with you?" He gestured to the guns and packages of drugs.

"I'll get it," Superman said. "Where do you want me to put it?"

"Drop it in my office for now," Henderson said. "I'll take care of it when I get back to the Precinct."

"You got it." Superman and the smuggled merchandise simply disappeared. Henderson tried not to blink in surprise.

The dark man seemed un-fazed. He simply stood unmoving, waiting.

"Where are you from?" Henderson asked suddenly. "I don't recognize your accent."

"English is not my native tongue," the other man replied.

"I figured that part," Henderson said. "What I don't understand is how you're mixed up in this."

"That is not your concern," Lois's rescuer said. "I am not a part of this, but like you, it is my duty to interfere when evil threatens the innocent."

That was definitely a weird way of saying it, Henderson thought. He was about to speak again when Superman reappeared out of thin air. "All done."

"Yeah." Henderson looked thoughtfully at the stranger. The obsidian eyes met his and suddenly the lips split in a smile, revealing very white, straight teeth.

"Good evening, Inspector Henderson," he said. "And my wishes for good fortune go with you. Please tell Miss Lane that I hope she will suffer no ill effects from her adventure last night."

"I'll do that," Henderson muttered. He glanced at the frosted glass of the bathroom window, from which the indirect light of the sun had almost disappeared. Somehow their host seemed more solid and intimidating than he had a few moments before. The man opened the bathroom door and gestured, inviting them to exit. Henderson nodded to him and did so, followed by Superman. Their host followed them, shutting the door behind him.

Henderson followed Superman as they made their way to the hallway. The room was only very dimly illuminated now, with the dying rays of the setting sun reflecting indirectly through the shaded window in the opposite wall.

There was the faintest fluttering sound behind him and he glanced back, wondering if a bird had been somehow trapped in the building, but now there was no one and nothing there. Lois's mysterious rescuer had vanished as if he had never existed.

Part 19

`Henderson was still puzzling over the disappearance of their "friend" as he had described himself, while Superman presumably scanned the area beyond the door of the duplex. There had been nowhere the man could go, and yet he had vanished as silently as the proverbial ghost.

Perhaps, Henderson speculated, he had simply stepped back into the bathroom and not exited behind them as Henderson had assumed he had.

Superman had said nothing, and his expression, in the dimness of the room's interior, was difficult to read. Henderson continued to run the events, and the information imparted to them by their strange informant, through his mind.

"There's no one there," Superman said suddenly. "Let's go."

They slipped through the door into the chilly, dark outer air, and an instant later were rising rapidly into the darkening sky. The scenery blurred again, and cleared. Henderson found that they were high above the beach cottages, and then Wilson's Cove was sliding to their rear as Superman flew swiftly toward the Twelfth Precinct.

"Where did he go?" Henderson asked suddenly. Superman, with his acute super-senses would probably know, he figured.

Superman didn't answer at once. At last, he spoke, sounding, Henderson thought, a little reluctant.

"I'm not sure."

That left Henderson speechless for several seconds. By the time he spoke again, they were losing altitude, descending toward the narrow alley that ran beside the police station. "You don't know?"

Superman set him on his feet. "No. I was checking the area before I opened the door. He vanished while my attention was distracted."

Something in the Kryptonian's voice told Henderson that Superman was hedging. He looked the other man in the eyes. "What is it?"

Superman shrugged slightly. "I'm really not sure."

"The guy can't have vanished into thin air. I don't think you believe in ghosts or vampires any more than I do. What is he -- some kind of ninja warrior or something?"

Superman shook his head. "I don't know. I doubt it."

"I'm beginning to wonder," Henderson said.

"So am I. But, Bill --" Superman broke off in a pause so long that Henderson thought that he had decided against completing the sentence.

"But, what?"

"I checked that room -- the bathroom -- before I knocked." Another pause.

"And?" Henderson said finally.

"It was empty. Except for the weapons and the packages of drugs."

"Then where did he come from?"

"I don't know."

A faint, reluctant chill crept over Henderson's scalp, but he shook off the feeling. "He must have come from somewhere."

"Of course." Superman's reply was almost too quick. "What are you going to do with his information?"

Henderson blinked. "And I thought Lois could change the subject fast."

A slight grin quirked the Man of Steel's lips. "Sorry. Too much exposure to Lois, I suppose. But you haven't answered me."

"I'm going to find an excuse to withdraw my men tomorrow -- not too suddenly. And then we're going to watch and see what happens."

Superman nodded. "If I can help, just ask. I want to solve this case as much as you do."

"How do I get hold of you?"

"Well," Superman said, "I guess you could always yell 'Help, Superman', but it would probably be more dignified to call Kent, at the Planet."

Henderson blinked at him for an instant, as he took off in a rush of chilly air. Had the Man of Steel actually joked with him?

As Superman vanished into the dark sky, Henderson stood looking after him. A tiny star winked at him, and was blotted out for a second as a body crossed between it and him. Then he shook his head and opened the side door into the Twelfth Precinct Police Station. He had a few things to arrange for tomorrow.

**********

Lois Lane saved her article and began to re-read her work. She had started proofing her writing more carefully recently. It was always a point of contention when Clark pointed out her typos and in the spirit of competition, she had grown more determined that he should not find misspellings and mistakes in her copy.

She glanced at the windows, noting that the sun was setting in a blaze of pink and gold beyond the buildings, and returned to her article. She corrected a minor error that turned a harmless word into an unprintable one, finished reading her piece and saved it again, and then LANned it to her editor.

"Lois," Jimmy said from behind her, making her start slightly. The gofer was presenting her with a sheaf of paper. "I found that information you wanted."

"Great," Lois said, accepting the offering. "So who rented the cabin last summer?"

Jimmy looked worried. "Bill Church Jr. I guess that was while Bill Church Senior was scouting locations for the Cost Mart stores. They bought out the Lex Save chain last summer, you know -- I guess Lex Corp was unloading a lot of its holdings about then. The Cost Mart store nearby is an old Lex Save." Jimmy didn't need to add that this must have been the month after Lois's disastrous almost-wedding to Lex Luthor. That had been a period of frantic activity for Lex Corp, while the Board of Trustees battled to save at least part of the Lex Corp empire. It figured that Intergang had seized the opportunity to get a toe hold in Metropolis, Lois thought. Now, if she and Clark could only prove that Bill Church was actually involved ….

"Bill Church Junior?" she repeated.

"Yeah," Jimmy said. "He and his wife signed the lease."

"Bill Church Junior is actually married?" Lois said, incredulously. From the little she knew of the man, his lifestyle included multiple females of easy virtue, and it was a little difficult to grasp the concept of a married Bill Church. What woman would be crazy enough to marry him?

"Yeah, he is," Jimmy said. "I almost didn't believe it, either, until I checked the New Troy Bureau of Vital Statistics. There's a marriage certificate, all right."

"Incredible," Lois murmured, under her breath. "Okay. So the Churches are connected to Wilson's Cove. Why am I not surprised?"

"Good luck tying them to whatever's going on," Jimmy said. "The rest of that stuff is about the indigenous people that lived in New Troy when the colonists came, and their legends. Some of them are really weird."

"Good," Lois said. "That may be just what I need."

"What's it all about?" Jimmy inquired.

"Clark and I think somebody might be running a scam based on one of these old legends," Lois said, scanning the papers quickly. "Ah! I think this might be it. 'The Legend of the Blood Spirits.'"

"It's creepy," Jimmy told her. "I didn't think Native Americans had things like vampire legends."

Lois looked up quickly. "Vampires?"

"Well, not exactly," Jimmy said. "But pretty close. Say," he said, "this wouldn't have anything to do with those 'vampire murders' in the park, and the Cost Mart manager, would it?"

"Maybe," Lois said. "It's one angle we're following."

"Cool," Jimmy said. "It sounds like that vampire hunter movie they showed on Halloween. It figures you and CK would get to hunt vampires. You always get to do cool stuff nobody else does."

"Jimmy, I doubt there's any real vampires involved," Lois told him.

Jimmy looked crestfallen. "No, probably not." He started to turn, and swung back, giving her a startled look. "Why are you wearing a crucifix pendant, then?"

"This?" Lois touched the silver chain, trying her best to sound disinterested. The little silver cross had worked its way from under its concealment and lay exposed, a little crookedly, on the material of her blouse. "My grandmother gave it to me."

"Recently?"

"No. It was when I was going to college. I just -- felt like wearing it."

"Oh," Jimmy said. "Well, I guess better safe than sorry."

Lois decided that arguing with him about her wearing a crucifix would only serve to make her look silly. She picked up her shoulder bag, slipped the sheaf of paper into it and swung it to her shoulder. "I'm going home. I'll read this later."

"Okay. I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Jimmy said. "Maybe after you read that stuff you can tell me what a blood spirit is."

"Didn't it say?" Lois paused in the act of putting on her coat to stare at him.

"Nope. They sound like Dracula or something."

"What did they do?"

"The stuff I found says they were supernatural creatures that lured the young warriors and maidens away from their camps at night with promises and songs and then feasted on their blood. That's why I called them vampires. There was this one shaman, Night Eagle, or something like that, who went up against them and beat them with his power, destroyed them, but he paid a price. He was only corporeal by night, afterwards, and was sometimes overcome by the blood thirst, but apparently he confined himself to various malefactors and the good-for-nothings in the tribe."

Lois resolutely ignored the slight crawling sensation on her scalp. "I heard that part of the story before," she said. "Did they say what happened to him?"

"Kind of," Jimmy said. "He was supposed to have gone to sleep in a hidden place, but he promised his tribe that if he was ever needed again, he would return to defend the people of his land. Kind of sad, really." He glanced at the main window. "Look, you'd better hurry up. It's almost dark."

"Yeah," Lois said. "I guess I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay," Jimmy said, but she could have sworn that he looked at her with just a touch of awe before he turned away.

**********

The bright colors of sunset had just about faded from the western sky by the time that Lois pulled Harvey Brown's battered pickup out of the Planet's parking lot and into the street.

It would have been nice, she found herself thinking, if Clark had returned in time to accompany her home. Not, of course, because she might want him to walk with her through the halls of her apartment house, or be there when she opened her door.

No, it was simply that she would have liked to discuss the case with him, and, of course, to hear if he had managed to locate Superman, and if he had learned what had happened.

She maneuvered her way through the late rush hour traffic and at last turned off the main drag onto one of the quiet side streets, and five minutes later was pulling the pickup into the small lot behind her apartment building, reserved for its occupants.

One of the lights that illuminated the lot was out again, she noted unhappily. There was a large stretch of shadow between the parking space she had chosen and the sidewalk that gave passage around the building to the front of the apartment house. Lois told herself again that there was no reason for her heart to be beating light and fast in her throat. It was just that the past couple of days had had a definite creep factor attached to them.

Well, the quicker she got over to the sidewalk, the quicker she would be inside. She sternly suppressed the little tingle of nervousness that tried to lift the hair on her scalp.

Carefully, she peered around but could see no motion anywhere. Except for the several vehicles parked in such a way that made it impossible for her to park any closer to the building, the lot was deserted.

With a quick motion, before she could change her mind, Lois opened the door of the truck and got out, pushing the locking button on the door and slamming it behind her. With long, swift strides, she headed directly toward the sidewalk and the pool of light from the lamp perched on the corner of the building, ducking quickly through the patch of shadows.

And, as she reached it, the front doors of the car parked almost entirely concealed by the thick band of shadow, opened and almost simultaneously a man emerged from each door. The dim moonlight gleamed off the dark metal of the handgun gripped firmly by the closer man as he pointed it directly at her.

"Get in the car, Ms. Lane." The voice was a deep rumble in his throat. The second man said nothing, although he, too, displayed a weapon.

At least this was the kind of danger that she could understand, Lois thought half-humorously. Kidnapping attempts might be irritating and inconvenient, but at least kidnappers were human. She stopped, stock-still, evaluating the situation.

Not too good. Tae Kwon Do against handguns wasn't what she would consider favorable odds.

The bigger thug brandished his weapon. "Get in the car," he repeated. "You got an appointment with a vampire."

Lois kicked him in the crotch. As he doubled forward, she followed the kick with another, this one to his gun hand and had the satisfaction of seeing the weapon flying through the air to land with a clatter and a splash somewhere to her left. In the next split-instant, she dived sideways as the second man's weapon spoke.

She could have sworn the bullet twitched a lock of her hair as it zinged past her cheek. Lois rolled to her feet, ready to follow up the attack -- and froze.

Something dark, a shadow the size and general shape of a man, swooped suddenly out of the night from above her. The man who retained his gun fired at it, but the shadow didn't even slow down. Lois caught a second look at it for a frozen split instant before she turned to flee.

Definitely not Superman. The thought crossed her mind as she ran for the sidewalk and the path between the apartment house and the structure beside it. Behind her were more gunshots.

Looking back over her shoulder for an instant, she could see the gunman firing at something, a darker spot of black in the darkness. The gunfire stopped abruptly with two distinctive clicks.

Running, while looking back over one's shoulder, she discovered an instant later, was probably not a good idea. Her toe snagged on the curb and she fell flat, the breath knocked completely out of her.

The gunman screamed.

The first scream was followed by a second, which cut off in the middle with a kind of gurgling sound. Lois struggled to her feet, gasping for air, and caught a last, confused glimpse of the situation before she stumbled around the corner of the apartment house, sucking air desperately into her burning lungs.

Something, the man-shaped blackness, half-obscured the gunman and his partner. Lois didn't wait to see more. She ran toward the street as fast as her wobbling legs could carry her, toward light, and the noise of passing traffic, and safety.

As she rounded the corner at the front of the building, she almost collided with a familiar figure: a short, slender dark man wearing dark jeans and a leather jacket. She skidded to a stop so suddenly that she almost fell over.

The man who had rescued her the previous night caught her arm and helped her regain her balance.

"Miss Lane," he said by way of greeting. "Are you all right?"

Numbly, she nodded, telling her heart to slow down. "I need to call the police," she half-gasped. "Two men tried to kidnap me in the parking lot."

Her rescuer looked serious. "Then you must at once summon the police," he said. "I will accompany you until an officer of the law arrives."

"There's a phone in the lobby," Lois said, still struggling a little to recover her breath. "Come on."

Part 20

He opened the door for her and stood courteously back to let her enter first. Lois did so and crossed to the wall-mounted phone. Not bothering to fish around in her purse for money, she punched the O, and waited.

The phone rang four times, and she had nearly given up hope that the operator would get back from her coffee break in time to answer, when there was a chime on the line, and a man's voice said, "Operator."

"I need to call the police," Lois said, still panting slightly. "Two men tried to kidnap me in the parking lot of my apartment house."

"Did you say you were nearly kidnapped?" the man asked, sounding not in the least alarmed.

"Yes. Two men. I need to call the Twelfth Precinct," she said. "Hurry, please!"

"You have a specific precinct you call?" the operator asked, sounding a little skeptical.

"This is Lois Lane, and the Twelfth Precinct is about four blocks from me!" she said, beginning to be a little angry. "Hurry!"

"The reporter?" the man asked, curiously. "Why don't you just yell 'Help, Superman!'?"

"Because Superman isn't my personal errand boy! For Heaven's sake, get the police! They had guns!"

Lois became aware abruptly that the sound of distant sirens, always present in Metropolis, were approaching her location rapidly. A police car, its red and blue lights brilliant in the dusk, screeched to a stop in the street in front of the apartment building as she looked through the glass of the front door, and the deafening siren died with a hiccup. More sirens were converging on her location. The operator said, "Sounds like they're already there. Somebody must have reported the gunshots."

"No thanks to you!" Lois said. "If I'd had to depend on you, you'd still be arguing with me!" She slammed the phone down.

"Be at ease, Miss Lane." The voice of her companion nearly made her jump. She had almost forgotten his presence while she argued with the skeptical operator. "The police are here. Perhaps you had best speak to them."

Two police officers were approaching the building as he spoke, she saw, and a moment later one of Metropolis's Finest shoved the door open.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said. "We got a report of gunshots. Did you possibly hear anything?"

"Yes, I did," Lois said. "I was trying to call the police and got slowed down by a smart Alec operator. Two men tried to kidnap me in the parking lot behind the building!"

"Your name?" the second officer asked at once.

"I'm Lois Lane. I live in this building. I'd just got home from work, and parked in the apartment's lot, as usual, when two men got out of a car and tried to force me to go with them."

"Can you show us where this took place?"

Lois nodded. "Sure. It's around in the back --"

There were several more police officers just climbing out of their cars as Lois led the two, to whom she had spoken, down the steps to the apartment and around toward the rear parking lot.

The lot was still dimly illuminated, but it was silent now. Nothing moved within Lois's range of vision except the police. But on the pavement lay a dark, indeterminate shape. Lois drew in her breath, realizing what that shape probably was.

The beam from one of the flashlights employed by the responding officers played over the shapeless bulk, and there was a sudden movement toward what Lois could see now were two bodies, one lying across the other. Neither was moving, and, as she followed the police toward them, the light flicked over their faces and clothing. Clothing that was spattered with blood.

"Are these the two men who attempted to abduct you, Ms. Lane?" The voice of the officer who had taken her name broke through the faintly sick feeling in her gut that was suddenly taking up all her attention.

"Maybe," she said. Her voice sounded choked, even to her. "I didn't see their faces. It was too dark. I ran toward the street to get away."

Two of the police officers were bending over the still forms, and another was speaking rapidly into a radio. The man who had addressed her was a dark shadow in the dimly lit parking lot, but she could tell he was watching her closely. "Do you want to tell me in more detail what happened to you here?"

"Are they dead?" she asked, marginally aware that her voice was shaking slightly.

"Looks like it." The man was silent a moment. "I don't suppose you know what happened here?"

Lois shook her head. "Were they shot?" she whispered.

"Hey, Sarge!" A voice from one of the figures standing by the two dead men interrupted her. "Looks like we got another couple of vampire victims like those guys at Cost Mart!"

From somewhere, she heard a familiar whoosh of air, and an instant later, an equally familiar voice sent a wash of relief through her.

"Are you all right, Lois?" Superman asked. "What's going on?"

She didn't answer at once. Looking around, she realized abruptly, that her companion from the Cost Mart tunnel was nowhere to be seen.

**********

"You know, Lois, I thought I'd seen the last of you for today, when I talked to you this morning," Bill Henderson remarked. "I should have known better."

The lobby of her apartment building was none too large, and was now occupied by Lois, the cop who had first spoken to her, whose name happened to be, of all things, Sergeant Schultz, and Bill Henderson, as well as Mr. Tracewski and the larger of his two sons, who stood a head taller than the manager, and massed at least twice his weight, most of it pure muscle. Sergeant Schultz, however, didn't look anything like the actor portraying his namesake on the old sitcom. He was a tall, lean police sergeant, who had not yet begun to develop a gut, or a matching wide seat. He had maintained a polite but neutral air toward Lois ever since the discovery of the bodies.

"I never thought I'd be glad to see you, Henderson," Lois replied acerbically. "Two men tried to abduct me in the parking lot, and your sergeant here seems to think I might have sucked all the blood out of their bodies."

Henderson looked as deadpan as always. "I'm tempted to take you into protective custody to keep you out of trouble," he said, "but I guess I owe you a favor or two. I know Ms. Lane, " he continued, this time speaking to Schultz. "She didn't kill your John Does. In fact, she's been reporting on our so-called 'Vampire Murders'. How did you get mixed up in this one?" he added to Lois.

"You're not going to believe me," Lois said. "I wouldn't believe me!"

"Try me. I've seen more stuff I don't believe in the last week than most men do in a lifetime. Besides, I've already spoken to Superman, which is why I'm here."

"Can we do it in private?" Lois asked, glancing at Schultz.

"So you didn't tell him everything?"

"Well -- I told him the believable stuff."

The faintest quiver passed over Henderson's face, but his voice was as perfectly deadpan as ever when he answered. "Go on out and take over from Krutzfeld, Wally. I'll talk to Ms. Lane."

The sergeant regarded Lois with a look as deadpan as Henderson's. "She's hiding something, sir," he said.

"I'm sure she is, but she still didn't murder anybody. Go on."

With a last, doubtful look at Lois, Schultz departed. Mr. Tracewski spoke up. "You want Joey and me to stay, Miss Lane? We will, if you want."

"No." Lois smiled gratefully at the apartment house manager. Mr. Tracewski had managed the place since before she had first come to the apartment on Carter Avenue, and regarded his tenants as his responsibilities. As soon as he'd realized that she might be in trouble, he had come out to be a quiet, but reassuring witness to Lois's encounter with the enigmatic Sergeant Schultz, and brought his eldest son along for good measure. "Inspector Henderson's okay. But thank you for being here."

"All right, but you call me if you need me." Mr. Tracewski cast a suspicious look at Henderson and departed, followed by Joey.

"Looks to me like you have a champion there," Henderson said mildly.

"Mr. Tracewski takes this whole vampire business seriously," Lois said. "He asked me if I wanted to borrow an extra crucifix, but I told him I was already wearing one."

Henderson shook his head. "I'm glad I'm not the only one, but if you ever tell anybody --"

"You?" She was aware of a faint sense of relief. Maybe she wasn't being silly, after all. Or if she was, at least she was in good company.

"Yeah." Henderson patted the front of his shirt. "I guess I'm more superstitious than I like to think. But it's only for moral support. I don't believe in vampires."

"Neither do I, but after this evening, I'm beginning to wonder," Lois said.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"I'm not sure I want to tell anybody what actually happened, but if I was the superstitious type, I'd think I was the first real witness to our vampire in action."

Henderson looked sharply at her. "You're not joking?"

"Do you think I'd joke about something like this? Superman must have told you those two men tried to abduct me in the parking lot, and when I got back with the police they were dead, each with two holes in his throat."

"I was just pulling into my driveway," Henderson told her. "He came to get me not only to get you out of trouble, but because he knew I'd want to know."

"Where did he go?"

"Wherever he goes. Maybe he's looking for your vampire. Kent's out there watching the investigation, though. He arrived about the time I did. I told him I'd talk to you and rescue you if necessary. Now, what happened?"

Lois sank into one of the straight-backed chairs that had been in the apartment lobby for as long as she had lived here. Now that the tension was easing, she discovered that her knees felt a little wobbly. "I'm not joking," she said. "Even if I didn't see the vampire attack those guys, I saw something, and it wasn't your ordinary murder, or assault. It definitely wasn't."

"All right: I believe it wasn't ordinary. Why don't you tell me what it looked like?" Henderson's voice was a little gentler, and she realized that the voice was the reassuring one that he used when trying to calm a witness or a victim, in the course of his job. Bill Henderson saw a lot more than she gave him credit for.

Taking a deep breath, she shoved away her reaction to what had happened this evening, and began to speak, trying to be as clear and concise as she could. Henderson remained silent, even when she got to the most unbelievable part, the black flying thing that wasn't Superman. And then, her meeting with the man from the Cost Mart tunnel, and the way he had disappeared when the police arrived.

"What time did all this happen?" he asked at last.

"I'm not sure. The sun had been down maybe ten or fifteen minutes, I guess. It was pretty dark."

"So that was just about the time Superman and I were leaving Mariner's Cove," he said finally. "But I don't see --." He was silent for several seconds, obviously thinking. "Well," he said at last, "I'll have to talk to Superman again, obviously. You're free to go, Lois. But do me a favor. Don't go running around by yourself in the dark until we get this thing solved."

"There was one thing," Lois said suddenly. "When those two pulled guns on me, one of them told me I had a date with a vampire. I almost forgot. What do you suppose he meant?"

"Good question," Henderson said. "I doubt it was anything good."

"What if Intergang killed those men in the park," Lois said. "Maybe even the Cost Mart manager. If they faked the vampire deaths, maybe they intended to do the same thing to me."

"Intergang?" Henderson said. "I thought we were talking about smugglers based in Cost Mart."

Lois could have bitten her tongue, but it was too late to back out now. "Clark and I think Bill Church is the head of Intergang," she said." And Bill Church owns the Cost Mart chain."

"Isn't Church a friend of your boss?" Henderson inquired.

"Yes. Perry thinks we're barking up the wrong tree."

"That sounds like something White would say," Henderson said dryly. "Maybe you'd care to fill me in on this theory when we have more time. In any case, I doubt they'd have killed their own men while they were attempting to bring you in, so that doesn't explain this incident. I'd like you to promise me that you'll stick with Kent or even Olsen when you're going about your business for a few days until this thing is wrapped up. I don't want to find your bloodless body lying around somewhere. Whoever they are, you're obviously a thorn in their side. A word to the wise."

Someone knocked on the door and Lois looked past Henderson to see Clark peering through the glass pane set in the door at them. Henderson glanced over his shoulder and waved for Clark to enter. "Speak of the devil, here he is now. Kent, I'm appointing you her bodyguard until all this is over. It's obvious to me that somebody would like to get rid of a snoopy reporter. Stick with her whenever she's running around loose, would you?"

"No problem," Clark said. "Would you like to tell me what happened?"

"I'll let Lois do that. I want to see a little of the lay of the land." He smiled dryly at Lois. "And I used to think police work was dull." With that sardonic comment, he pushed the door open and went out into the chilly night air.

Part 21

"So, I guess you're not a murder suspect?" Clark said, as the door swung shut behind the police inspector.

"I guess not," Lois said. "I think Schultz wanted to arrest me but Henderson vetoed the idea."

"Lucky for you that Henderson knows you as well as he does," Clark said.

"I was glad to see him show up," Lois said. At the expression on her partner's face, she hastily added, "But if you ever tell him I said that, I'll call you a liar to your face."

Clark grinned faintly. "Don't worry about it."

In truth, Lois wasn't worried. In the months since they had been tied up in the shuttle hangar at EPRAD, not long after Clark had come to work at the Daily Planet, she had discovered that Clark's ethics might be irritating, but despite the fact that she could sometimes talk him into a little breaking and entering, there were certain things upon which he could not be brought to compromise. If he made a promise, he kept it, sometimes going to ridiculous lengths to do so. And if he was given a confidence, he never broke it.

"So, what exactly happened?" Clark asked. "Superman said you might have seen the vampire in action?"

"Or something," Lois said. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure what I saw. I can tell you what it looked like. What actually happened is anybody's guess."

"Well," Clark said reasonably, "tell me what it looked like, then."

Lois repeated the story she had told Henderson and Clark listened without comment until she had finished.

"And that's it," she said at last. "When we found the dead guys, I realized that our friend from Cost Mart was gone. He just vanished."

"Again," Clark murmured.

"Yeah. He's really good at the disappearing act."

"What time did all this happen?" Clark asked.

"Henderson asked me that, too. The sun was setting when I left the Daily Planet, and I went right home. It was pretty dark by the time I got there."

"And when you got around to the front of the apartment, you ran into your mysterious rescuer."

"That's right."

"Interesting that he turned up here just at that minute," Clark said.

"I suppose so," Lois admitted.

Clark was silent again, frowning at nothing. It wasn't an angry frown, Lois thought, but it seemed that he was working on something that puzzled him. "What?" she asked.

"One of the dead men said you had a date with a vampire," he said. "But it looks as if someone else had it in for them. Does it occur to you that someone rescued you?"

Lois stared at him. "Rescued me?"

"Well, something sure interrupted their attempt to kidnap you."

"Something is right!"

"Just as your friend rescued you from that room in the sub-basement of Cost Mart. And the three Cost Mart employees responsible for it wound up just like that pair."

"Do you really think there's a connection?" she asked. "He was here, but I don't see how he could have had anything to do with what happened in the parking lot. He'd have had to be in two places almost at once, or else be as fast as Superman. Besides, he looks pretty human to me. No elongated fangs or anything." But he sure had a beautiful set of teeth, she reminded herself. Not that the fact had any deeper meaning, of course. He couldn't possibly be a vampire, even if such things existed. He'd saved her life, and hadn't offered her any harm at all. Therefore, he wasn't a vampire. QED.

"You're right," Clark said. "But something doesn't add up here."

"I'll say!"

He gave a small grin. "I guess that's pretty obvious. Do you want to hang around here, or shall I escort you up to your apartment? Henderson appointed me your bodyguard, and I always take my responsibilities seriously. I've got all the notes I need, and we can pester Henderson for a quote or two later if we decide we want one. We can write up the article and fax it in to the night desk if we hurry, so it'll be in the morning edition."

Lois got up quickly. "Great idea, but let's be sure Henderson hasn't found anything else before we send it in."

"I'll go out and ask him right now. Want to wait here where it's warm?"

"Not on your life! Let's go!"

**********

Henderson was talking to Sergeant Schultz when they located him. The lean sergeant gave Lois an impassive look when they approached and said something to Henderson that Lois couldn't hear. Henderson glanced briefly in their direction. "Now what?"

"We just wanted to ask for a quote," Lois said, almost meekly. Her own voice surprised her. "Do you have any theories about this situation?"

"Somebody's running a scam," Henderson said. "A lethal scam. There's a logical, rational explanation for all of these events, and I intend to find it. And no, we haven't figured out what really happened, and we haven't identified our victims yet."

Clark tugged at Lois's sleeve. "I think that will be fine, don't you, Lois? Let's go write the story. If we hurry, we can get it in the morning edition."

"When you find out who they were, could you give me a call?" Lois asked shamelessly. Henderson cast her a glance which she could have sworn was half exasperation, half admiration at her persistence.

"I'll consider it," he said. "Just stay out of trouble for twenty-four hours, will you?"

"I'll try," Lois said. "I really wasn't looking for trouble this time."

"I'm sure. But it found you anyway, like always. Go away, now, and let me finish here. I promised my wife I'd try to make it home in time for dinner. I'm already late."

**********

The sun was shining brightly when Lois opened her eyes. The window shade that protected her eyes from moonlight at night and sun in the morning -- on those rare days that she slept late -- had been imperfectly closed and a stray beam of sunlight lay across her pillow, and that, naturally, had awakened her. A glance at her alarm clock told her that it was past eleven and she sat up sharply. She was four hours late, and Perry was going to have a fit!

Then she recalled the events of the night before and relaxed. She and Clark had called the office, after writing their article about the strange events in her apartment's parking lot last night. Since it was quite late, she had informed them that she wouldn't be in until afternoon. The fact that she hadn't wanted to tell Perry what she intended this morning, or where she was going, had also played a part. Clark had looked disapproving, but had, as usual, said nothing. It was a good thing that she could count on her partner to back her up, she thought. Poor Clark! Having her for a partner must be rough on his nerves, considering that it was usually she that led them both into sticky situations. On the other hand, her tendency to attract trouble -- and sometimes to stick her head into the lion's den -- had certainly broadened his horizons since Perry had partnered them up. It couldn't help but make him a better investigative journalist, she figured, although she had to admit privately that he was already pretty darned good. But he was, in her opinion, much too cautious. If he really wanted to be a successful investigative reporter, he was going to have to be more assertive, and Lois Lane was the one to teach him. He'd thank her eventually.

It was one of her secrets to the big scoops that she never mentioned to any of her colleagues. Most of them seemed to depend on tips from people on the inside, when there was some kind of scandal, or something shady brewing in government or business circles. It wasn't that Lois didn't have her circle of contacts and snitches, but her real key to the big scoops was to go out and investigate, hands on. Never mind that it frequently got her into trouble. Many of her colleagues were just plain lazy, in her opinion. They didn't get their hands dirty, actually checking out the tips they got. Lois did, and so did Clark. They hadn't become the hottest team in town, as the Planet billed them, by warming their desk chairs. Besides the fact that he was as dumb as a chunk of granite, that was Ralph's biggest problem. He sat there and expected the big stories to fall into his lap and then he got annoyed when she and Clark brought in the headlines and he got stuck with the dog shows. Maybe that was why he had a nose for scandals. They were the only thing that motivated him to get onto his feet, and away from the safety of his desk. Well, that and leaning against the water cooler, trying to impress the women in the research pool.

She stepped around the partition that opened into the main room of her apartment, and stopped in surprise. She had gone to bed last night … well, actually, she didn't recall going to bed. She'd put on her pajamas, robe and slippers, and had been sitting on the sofa with Clark, working on a sidebar to the main story. She remembered sitting back, sipping on the Oolong tea Clark had brewed up, and then she had awakened in her bed, and it was morning. And Clark was presently sleeping on her sofa, wearing the sweats that he'd loaned her weeks ago, after that assignment that had wound up with him dragging her out of Hobb's Bay.

She could smile about that episode now, considerably later, in a warm, dry apartment, but it hadn't been much fun at the time. Councilman Slaughter had had them both dumped out there in thirty-five degree weather and left to drown, but Clark had somehow managed to stay afloat and had somehow gotten his feet loose. He'd had her lie across his body while he kicked, and they'd made it back to shore. Then Clark had used a piece of broken glass to cut the ropes on his wrists and freed her as well. They'd gone back to his place, since it had been closer, and changed. And then they'd proceeded to bust the Councilman, with Henderson's sardonic cooperation, naturally. His dry comments about her penchant for hanging over the jaws of death on a regular basis she had dismissed as irrelevant. Henderson wouldn't be Henderson if he allowed emotion of any kind to disturb his normally cynical worldview.

That had been one of their better scoops, although Lois's propensity for digging around in person had been what precipitated their abrupt descent into the coldest water she ever remembered being thrown into. It was just as well, she thought, that Clark had been in Boy Scouts as a child in Smallville. There might not be a mythical ocean there, but apparently there was pretty much everything else, for her partner was far from the hick she'd assumed that he must be when they'd first met. Of course, having a former Navy SEAL as his Boy Scout leader probably hadn't hurt. It was amazing how many strange things she'd learned about his past. If all country boys had acquired the knowledge he had, city-bred journalists wouldn't stand a chance. Lois Lane excepted, of course. Even Clark had to admit that.

Quietly, she returned to her bedroom and changed into her work clothes. Not work clothes for the Daily Planet, however. If she were to present herself in the newsroom this morning wearing slightly battered blue jeans and a heavy leather jacket, Perry might not say anything, but that was only because he had already seen her show up there at odd hours, wearing some pretty outlandish things. Ralph, however, would make her life miserable for days about it. One of these days, she thought, he was going to go too far and wind up cold-cocked in the middle of the Pit.

As she entered the living room, Clark sat up, rubbing his hair and yawning.

"Good morning," Lois said. "How come you're here? I didn't invite you to stay, did I?"

"No, but Henderson said I was to guard you," Clark said. He swung his feet to the floor. "I didn't figure I could do a very good job of guarding you all the way from my place, so I borrowed my sweats and slept on your couch." He rubbed his back. "If I have to stay again, tonight, I think I'll sleep on the floor."

Lois couldn't repress a small twinge of sympathy when she glanced out of the corner of her eye at the sofa. How Clark had ever managed to sleep on that thing she couldn't fathom. It was too small for his six-foot frame, for one thing, and about as soft as a stone slab.

"If you do, I'll get out my hide-a-bed," she said. "It's kind of narrow, but it won't ruin your back. Why don't you get ready and we'll head over to Cost Mart."

Clark looked quickly at her. "Cost Mart? Why? I thought you wanted to prowl around in Wilson's Cove."

She barely glanced at him. "Because we're going to take a look around Cost Mart first," she said. "Then we'll scope out Wilson's Cove. Henderson's hands are pretty much tied by the law. Maybe we can find some evidence that he can use to get a warrant or something."

"Superman said that Henderson is withdrawing his men from Cost Mart," Clark said. "He wants to see what they'll do when they think they're not being watched anymore."

"You didn't tell me that last night," Lois said sharply.

"I forgot you didn't know," Clark said. "Henderson and Superman talked to your mysterious friend yesterday evening, and apparently he gave them some useful information. That's why Henderson is publicly withdrawing his men. He said he'd give us the exclusive if it pans out."

Lois shrugged. "If anything is going to happen, I want to be there for it," she said. "Hurry up and get dressed."

"I'm going to want to stop by my place to get something clean to wear," Clark said. "It'll only take a few minutes."

"Great. Then grab a Hot Pocket or something for breakfast and let's go. Every minute we waste, something big could be happening."

Later, she would recall that remark with a sense of irony.

Part 22

"You know," Clark remarked a short time later, just as the beat-up vehicle that she had borrowed from Harvey Brown bounced sharply when one wheel hit a pothole in the street, "this truck reminds me of the one my dad had before he got his new one. Its shocks were pretty much gone, too."

Lois grunted inarticulately. "I just hope Henderson gets my Jeep back to me pretty soon. He never did say why they were keeping it so long."

"Well, since those two guys were killed in the park, and they probably drove your Jeep over there, there might have been some evidence in it that would help Henderson figure out who our 'vampire' really is, and maybe solve this thing," Clark said mildly, pointing out the obvious.

Lois didn't answer. The light sprinkling of raindrops that was half-slush, was getting thicker, and she turned on the windshield wipers, which promptly smeared mud across her field of view. She hit the washer button, but water failed to spray onto the glass.

"Maybe the water in the reservoir is frozen," Clark suggested.

"More likely it's empty," Lois said, squinting to see past the smeared mud. "Darn it; I can't see!"

A spatter of rain hit the glass suddenly, accompanied by tiny grains of ice that turned instantly to water on the windshield. The shredded windshield wiper swished back across the glass, marginally clearing some of the mud. Lois cussed under her breath. "Where the heck did the sun go? It was shining in my window this morning!"

"The weather report said there was a storm moving in," Clark said, helpfully. "I guess this is it."

Lois turned left onto Clinton Street and pulled up in front of Clark's apartment. "Hurry up," she told him. "I want to get over there and see what's happening."

Clark shook his head stubbornly. "I'm not leaving you by yourself," he said. "That business last night is a pretty good clue that somebody wants you out of the way."

"Oh, all right." Lois switched off the motor and dropped the key into her bag. The spray of water that greeted her as she opened the door almost convinced her to change her mind, but her promise to Henderson the night before had been for a reason. They half-ran up the steps to the apartment and Clark got the door open quickly and closed it as quickly behind them.

Lois mopped at her face. "Do vampires come out in the rain?"

"I wouldn't know," Clark said. "Never having met any vampires. I'll get you a towel and then change."

Lois accepted the thick, blue towel he handed her a moment later, and sat down on the comfortable old couch that occupied Clark's living room. Her partner vanished into his bedroom and she heard him moving around, opening his dresser drawers. Slowly, she began to dry her face and hair. It just figured, she thought, that the day they picked to go over to Cost Mart to see what would happen when Henderson's men were no longer in evidence, would be the day that the weather would turn nasty again. She picked up the remote control and turned on Clark's television.

The Metro Sports Channel was on, and she quickly switched the channel to LNN. Maybe they would have a weather report soon.

They did. Lois listened in dismay as the weather man cheerfully predicted the light rain to grow heavier and turn to snow by this afternoon. The storm was predicted to drop three to five inches of snow, and the wind from the northeast was expected to be fifteen to twenty miles per hour with gusts up to thirty. Great. Just great.

"You know," Clark said from behind her, "that our friendly smugglers probably won't be out until after dark. I just don't see them hauling in a bunch of contraband drugs and weapons during broad daylight. It's apt to attract attention, even in the rain. Or snow."

"I know," Lois said. "I just want to look over the lay of the land and find a good place to watch the action from, after dark."

"Maybe we could find a spot out of the weather," Clark suggested. "It's going to be a bit chilly."

"We'll wear warm clothes," Lois said. "Speaking of which, do you have a rain coat or an umbrella?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Clark said, producing both items from his coat closet. "I think we'll only need them for a little while, though. I'm betting it'll be snowing by the time we get to Cost Mart."

Looking out the window at the wet, dreary landscape, and at the rain that had grown heavier in just the short time she had been in Clark's apartment, she was inclined to agree with him. The windshield of the truck was already beginning to collect a slight crusting of very wet snow. As usual, the weather forecasters were being too conservative in their forecasts, Lois thought, disgustedly. That was why her father had called them "weather guessers" when she had been a little girl. It had never failed to make her laugh.

Sternly banishing those long-past memories, Lois appropriated the rain coat, and opened the apartment door. "Let's go."

**********

Forty minutes later, after a pitched battle with bumper-to-bumper traffic working their way past several fender-bender collisions, Lois pulled the pickup to the side of the street half a block from Cost Mart and cut the engine. "We walk from here. I don't think they'll notice us as long as we don't do anything to stand out."

Clark looked thoughtfully at the sparsely-populated sidewalks, quite rightfully avoided by most sensible citizens who preferred to stay out of the mixture of freezing rain and snow that was falling on the city of Metropolis.

"We're just going to stand out because there's almost nobody out there right now," he pointed out.

"I see a few people," Lois contradicted him. "We'll just look like them. Nobody's looking at them."

Clark lowered his glasses casually and glanced around. There didn't seem to be any reason to worry, but his ingrained awareness of the fact that Lois and trouble went hand in hand made him consider the potential for unforeseen difficulties. Still ….

He opened the door and got out, bringing the umbrella with him, and went around to Lois's side rather quickly to hold it over her head as she exited the truck. She gave him a brief, curious look but said nothing as she slid her feet to the slushy sidewalk and turned to slam the driver's door.

"Brrr," she commented, and pulled the leather jacket she wore -- also a relic of a different adventure with Clark, where he had ended up loaning her his jacket -- tighter around her shoulders. She tugged the hat she had chosen to protect her head and ears from the cold down a little farther. "Let's head over to Cost Mart."

Together, they moved down the sidewalk at a brisk walk: that of people anxious to get in out of the weather. Clark looked around, trying to spot any potential trouble, but it seemed as if Lois was right again. After all, what smuggler would willingly be out in this stuff?

On the other hand, nobody said the bosses of Cost Mart and Intergang were worried about their employees' comfort.

The parking lot was only lightly populated today, and Clark saw virtually no one in the vicinity, but there were a fair number of persons clustered under the canopy that sheltered the entrance to the big store. They joined the crowd, keeping their faces down, and moved slowly into the building.

It was warm and dry inside, and Clark lowered the umbrella. Lois went to acquire a shopping cart. "Come on," she said. "Let's look around."

Clark nodded, still with that faint feeling of uneasiness prickling the short hairs on his neck. It was probably nothing, he told himself. If nothing else, Henderson very likely had his own men around in here, just to keep on top of things. Maybe even some of those solitary figures out on the sidewalk had been his people.

The noise level in this place, unfortunately, made the use of his super-hearing virtually impossible. Between the gabble of normal conversation and the echo-effect of this cavernous box-store, it wasn't at all easy to separate out individual voices, especially since he had no idea who he might be listening for.

"Where do you want to go?"

"To the back, where they're opening crates and stuff," Lois said. "Maybe we can pick up some gossip."

That didn't seem too dangerous. It wasn't likely that the ordinary employees of this place would know much about the smuggling operation run by the management. Of course, Lois had to know that, too, so it didn't totally surprise him, when they drew near to the door in the back that led to the offices of the officials around here, that Lois looked longingly at it. "I'd sure like to get another look back there," she said softly. "I'll bet anything you like that some of what's going on isn't day to day business."

Clark picked up a can of bug spray from the nearest shelf and pretended to be reading the ingredients on the back. "That's how you got in trouble in the first place."

"Yeah, but Brunner isn't here any longer," she pointed out. "If we can get hold of a couple of the T-shirts, nobody will know the difference."

"Don't bet on it. I'd wager a small sum on their having your face up on the bulletin board or something, just in case," Clark said.

"Look, can you create a diversion so I can slip back there?" Lois said, ignoring the remark. "I just want a peek. Come on, Clark!"

The mulish look on her face and a familiar sinking feeling in his stomach told him that Lois meant business. If he didn't do something, she would just go set a fire in the restroom or something to distract everyone. His lovely partner didn't kid around.

"All right," he said grudgingly. "Just a minute. Wait for me."

Her instant smile lit up her face. "I knew I could count on you!"

Clark ducked quickly around the end of the shelf of bug spray, out of the view of Lois and the watching cameras, looking around quickly with his enhanced vision. There. That stack of cans should make a satisfying crash if it came down next to the rack of mops, brooms and other cleaning products.

Wondering why he always let Lois maneuver him into these situations, he pursed his lips and released a sharp puff of air toward the base of the pyramid.

The results were all that he could have wished. A can on the bottom row tilted, apparently against all laws of physics, and slipped out from under the two it supported, destabilizing the entire pile. The cans came down with a crash and a clatter, rolling wildly in all directions. The stand with the display of cleaning equipment went over and collided with another display, this one of dog food. Those cans also cascaded down and the rolling cans became instant hazards to the employees rushing to the scene of the minor disaster, and the customers who immediately converged to see what was happening.

He stepped quickly back around the shelves to rejoin his partner, who was now making a direct path toward the door in the back. One of the young male employees heading for the location of the metallic avalanche went past her, never even looking at her, and Clark joined her a second later as she went through the door.

"That was good," Lois said softly. "I can always rely on you for a good distraction. Come on. Let's check out Brunner's office."

As much as he hated to admit it, he was putty in Lois's hands. Superman's great weakness wasn't Kryptonite. It was Lois Lane, and he'd known it for well over a year.

Still, that didn't mean he had to let her walk blindly into trouble. Looking around as casually as he could, and straining his ears to hear something besides the din in the shopping area behind them, he followed Lois down the carpeted hallway toward the office of the erstwhile manager of this branch of Cost Mart.

At least the area of the murder was no longer cordoned off with yellow tape, although traces of the chalk outline where Brunner's body had lain were still visible on the expensive carpet. The secretary's desk was clear. Only a small plaque that said "Patricia Filnor, Executive Assistant," a plastic cup that held two pencils and a pen, and a clean mug that usually would contain coffee or tea remained on the polished, wooden surface. There were no stacks of paper or any other signs of the woman's daily work evident to a first cursory glance.

"Looks like the secretary isn't here," Lois remarked, noting the obvious.

From somewhere down the hallway behind them, Clark heard the sounds of voices and the muffled scrape of approaching footsteps. This was, after all, the section of the Cost Mart store where all the management was conducted. He pushed Lois through the door of Brunner's office. "Somebody's coming!"

Lois didn't hesitate, but ducked behind the half-open door of the room and pulled Clark with her. "Quiet!"

Hiding behind the door, their backs pressed to the wall, they waited. The footsteps approached and paused just outside the room.

"After you," a voice said. Clark wrinkled his brow. That voice sounded very familiar. In fact, it sounded like ….

The footsteps entered the secretary's tiny office and stopped, barely five feet away from the two reporters, frozen behind the door of Brunner's former domain.

"So have you thought about my request?" Bill Church Junior's voice said. Something creaked, and there was the click of a closing door latch.

"Mr. Church, I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I'd rather not have anything more to do with this," a different voice said, softly. "I've done what you told me, and I promise I won't say a word to anybody. I'd just like my money, and a ticket to Montana with Patty. Nobody's ever going to find me there. "

"Well, Filnor, I can understand that," the voice of Bill Jr. replied, also in low tones. "But we're not quite finished yet. That Lane woman is snooping around much too closely for our comfort. We failed to pick her up last night, and the rumors about what happened to my men don't make any sense. I don't know what she did, but if Superman wasn't up to his bulging biceps in it, somebody's playing us for fools. You have one more appearance to make for us, and then you'll get your payment and that ride out of town. Deal?"

There was a long silence as the man called Filnor apparently thought it over. "That guy that shot at me two nights ago, the cop, could have killed me. I don't want to get shot at again."

"Nobody's going to shoot at you," Church's voice replied, soothingly. "Even if somebody loses his head, he'll go for a body shot. It's what cops are trained to do. The vest will protect you, but it isn't likely to happen. You're a vampire, remember."

"Well …."

"And your help will be very much appreciated," Church continued, smoothly. "I imagine getting started in Montana will require some cash reserves, even for a talented actor such as yourself. We could double your payment, if that makes you feel any better, and then, once you finish this last job for us, no one will ever see you again. Isn't it worth a small risk?"

Another pause. "I guess so," Filnor's voice said, a little doubtfully. "But I want to leave town right afterwards. I don't want anything more to do with any of this. There's too many dead people turning up. Something's not right. Mr. Brunner was drained of blood, just like that first guy in the park. Patty was so scared she didn't even come to work yesterday or today."

"Well, neither of you will have to worry about any of this after tonight," Church said. "Right after you make one, last appearance. Then it will all be over."

"All right. Is it okay if I pick up Patty's mug? Her sister gave it to her when she got the job with Mr. Brunner."

"No problem," Church said. "See me in my office in an hour and we'll go over the script."

"Yes sir." Clark heard the scrape as Filnor apparently picked up the coffee mug. Cautiously, he turned his head and lowered his glasses. The solid wall disappeared before his eyes, and he saw the man whom Bill Church had called Filnor.

He was a slender man of medium height with a narrow, pale face, dark, piercing eyes and thick, black hair. It was the kind of face people remembered. He had seen this man before, Clark thought, and his memory went back to the night he and Lois had first investigated the tunnel under the Cost Mart parking lot. This had been the man whom they had seen on the sidewalk outside the big store, just as they were leaving.

Several things were suddenly beginning to add up.

Part 23

The opening and closing of the outer door leading into the hallway was followed by complete quiet in the secretary's little office.

Lois remained still, listening intently, but no sound broke the silence that had fallen.

Clark's glasses had crept down his nose while they were standing frozen behind the door, Lois noted. He pushed them back into place and released his breath softly. "I think they're gone."

"Yeah." Lois kept her voice low. "Did you hear all that? This Filnor guy was the vampire that Henderson shot at in my apartment."

"Hired by the Churches," Clark said. "Things are finally starting to make sense."

"Well, some things are," Lois amended. "There are a few that still haven't been explained. But, you know, if I was that fake vampire, I'd worry. He's a liability. He knows too much for Bill Church to let him go. He'll never have the chance to get started in Montana or anyplace else. A gang that routinely assassinates world leaders and tried to kill Superman isn't likely to worry about getting rid of a third rate actor like him."

"If he has any sense at all, he'll run while he can," Clark said, a little grimly.

"That's for sure," Lois said. "We need to tell Henderson. After we look around a little more," she added. "Like Perry always says, we need hard evidence."

"He's already got samples of the drugs and weapons," Clark pointed out.

"But no proof of where they came from," Lois patted the pocket of her jacket. "I've got a camera. We're going to get some photos of that storeroom in the sub-basement. But first, since we're in Brunner's office, let's see what we can find, while we give our friends a little time to go about their business. You take the file cabinet and I'll take the desk."

"They probably cleared out anything incriminating," Clark said, moving obediently to the file cabinet.

"Yeah, probably," Lois agreed. "But 'Patty' didn't come in to work today or yesterday. Maybe they slipped up."

"Maybe," Clark agreed. "It won't hurt to look, anyway, but we'd better lock the door. We don't need any interruptions." He turned and went to suit action to word, and then returned to examine the file cabinet that stood in one corner of Brunner's office. Lois was already opening the top drawer of the big desk.

"Do you need me to open the locks for you?" she asked, belatedly.

"No," Clark said. "It looks like the locking drawer is broken."

"What?" She turned her head.

"This is one of those file cabinets where you lock one drawer and that fastens all the rest," Clark said. He was ruffling through the top drawer's files as he spoke. "It's open. Looks like the lock's broken."

"Lucky," Lois said, returning to her investigation of the desk and thinking absently that Clark seemed to have incredible luck with locks that way. The top drawers produced nothing of interest and she opened the second drawer down on the left.

Neither it, nor the corresponding one on the right, or the bottom left drawer contained anything that she could use as incriminating evidence, but the bottom right drawer was locked. She tugged on it a second time and then fished in her pocket for her lock pick.

"Try this," Clark said. His hand appeared over her shoulder and in it was a small key. "It was in the file cabinet."

Lois took the key. Sure enough, it fit and she opened the drawer.

At first, she didn't see anything of value that might warrant locking the drawer. In some disappointment, she picked up the top folder in the very small stack that occupied the space.

Inside were several 8X10 photographs of men's faces, all smiling with what she would call professional charm at the camera. Lois frowned. The man in the first photo looked vaguely familiar, as if she had seen him somewhere, but not on any significant occasion that she could place. He resembled an actor that she had noticed in a spaghetti sauce commercial she had seen on television now and then.

The second photo was similar -- in fact, Lois was sure this guy had been in a recent soda commercial, wearing speedos, displaying his rolling biceps, and guzzling down a cola while some blond bimbo fawned over his bronzed chest.

She dutifully riffled through the remaining photos without much expectation of discovering anything of interest, but on the fifth one she froze, staring riveted at the features that looked back at her. "Clark! Look at this!"

Her partner turned from his investigation of the file cabinet. "What?"

"It's my vampire! -- the guy who came through my window and Henderson shot!"

The man in the picture was smiling and showed no sign of elongated fangs, but there was no question in her mind that it was the same man. The dark hair was arranged attractively, and his features were pleasant, even mildly handsome -- not at all like the "vampire" in her apartment, but if he was an actor, how much talent did it take to bare your teeth and snarl, anyway?

Clark was looking over her shoulder. "I've seen that guy before."

"I've seen a couple of these guys before. I think they're aspiring actors or something. This one was my vampire. Where have you seen him?"

"The night we first investigated the tunnel under the Cost Mart parking lot. Do you remember that guy we saw just as we were leaving?"

"What guy?"

"He was standing on the sidewalk when we drove away. I noticed him because he was the only person around. I thought it was kind of strange. It was three in the morning and snowing besides."

Now that he mentioned it, she recalled the incident. "Yeah, I remember him now, too. You think this was him?"

"I'm sure it was the same man," Clark said.

"What do you suppose he was doing there?"

"Who knows? But if this is your vampire --"

"It is. No question."

Clark took the photo and turned it over. "'Aloysius Filnor, performing artist,' and a phone number. This is a publicity photo."

Lois removed her tiny camera and took pictures of both sides of the photo. "I want to show this to Henderson."

"I suspect he'll recognize the vampire, too. Find anything else in the desk?"

"Not so far. Keep looking," Lois ordered. "We don't have all day."

"If I were an Intergang boss, I wouldn't keep evidence around," Clark said.

"Neither would I," Lois said. "But Bill Church seems to run Intergang like a branch of his business, so it wouldn't surprise me if he keeps records like any CEO. Maybe they slipped up and left more behind than just these pictures. I'm sort of surprised they even left them."

"Well, they're just pictures. Unless you saw the vampire up close, probably nobody would think much about them. They'd probably think Cost Mart was just looking for a spokesman to hawk their stuff."

"You're probably right," Lois admitted, returning to her task.

But despite a fairly thorough search of the office, nothing else of interest came to light. At last, Lois straightened up from the bottom drawer of the file cabinet, where she had been helping Clark to sort through the contents, and pushed the drawer shut with one foot. "Nothing."

"Not nothing," Clark said. "We have copies of the vampire's picture. That's worth a lot right there. What do you want to do now?"

"I don't think I signed up to have Little Merry Sunshine for my partner," Lois grumbled. "Okay, in case you didn't notice, there's an executive washroom over there --" She pointed. "There also happens to be a very nice suit hanging on the shower stall. It looks about your size, and if we go any farther, you'll be a lot less noticeable dressed like an executive around here instead of jeans and a polo shirt. See if it fits you."

"If it's Brunner's, it won't. I'm taller, and nowhere near as chubby."

"Don't nitpick," Lois said. "Try it on."

**********

Clarence Brunner had been a little shorter than Clark, but his shoulders had been broad. Unfortunately, so had his middle. Clark pulled the belt of the slacks tight around his narrow waist and straightened the florid tie. Yuck! Clark's ties were usually bright and eye-catching, but this thing was a bilious green and a kind of nasty yellow-brown with shapeless little blobs of red dotting it as if someone had thrown paint at the owner. It fit the man's character, Clark thought, distastefully, shrugging himself into the jacket. The shoulders were a little snug, but the cloth hung loose around his middle.

"I guess Brunner was fighting middle-age spread," Lois observed. "Button it up and stand up straight. I don't think anybody will notice unless he really looks closely."

Clark sighed and obeyed. Surveying himself in the door's full-length mirror, he didn't look too bad, he decided, after a critical scrutiny. With a small amount of luck, maybe it would be enough.

"Wow," Lois said. She felt the tight cloth across his back. "Your shoulders are almost too wide for this thing." She added, "I remember the time I saw you in a towel, back when you first came to work at the Planet. I guess you still work out a lot, huh?"

"Sort of," Clark said, uncomfortably. "Let's get going, huh? I'd like to be out of here sometime today. Preferably without being caught by Bill Junior's goons. Besides, his shoes don't fit me. I'm going to have to wear my jogging shoes. Let's hope nobody notices."

"They probably won't," Lois said. "They're dark, and you're not going to be standing still, talking to anybody for long."

"Not if I can help it," Clark said firmly.

"Just keep that in mind. Act like you own the place and people will think you do. The area I'm aiming for is the sub-basement. The room I was locked in is there, and so is the storeroom where I saw the packages, and who knows what other stuff they've smuggled in. Our friend from the beach house let me out the door there, right into the underground tunnel. I think I can find the elevator again without too much trouble. As soon as we're sure the hall is clear --"

Clark put his ear against the door. His super-hearing didn't pick up any sounds from the other side, and, looking over the tops of his glasses, he verified that the hallway was empty, at least for the moment. Quietly, he unlocked the door and stepped out into the hall. Lois followed him. He glanced at her briefly. "Okay, lead on."

"Keep going that way," Lois said, pointing. "When you get to the end of the hallway, turn left. There's an elevator to the first basement . . ."

**********

The elevator to the basement was empty, fortunately. Clark wasn't so sure of Lois's blithe assurance that nobody would give him a second look, but fortunately, it wasn't immediately put to the test. The elevator's control panel gave them options of the store's upper two floors and a basement. Lois punched the button for the basement.

When the elevator door opened on the basement level, a man in battered jeans and the green T-shirt of Cost Mart was waiting to board. They stepped out onto the carpeted hallway, and the man went past them, barely glancing at them. Clark let his breath out softly as the doors closed and the elevator departed upward, but Lois said, "That's where I first saw him!"

"Huh? Saw who?"

"The guy that rescued me from the room," she replied. "The first time I came through here, when I got on the elevator a man came out of it, wearing the same things as that other guy we just passed. That was where I first saw the man who rescued me. I'm sure of it. Later, when I saw him, he looked familiar, but I didn't know why until now."

"So he apparently knew about the sub-basement," Clark said.

"He must have. And he must have noticed me and realized I was heading for trouble."

"Or found out about it later," Clark said. "Our mysterious friend seems to have ways of finding out things that people are trying to hide."

"I'll say," Lois said. "I'd still like a satisfactory explanation for him being here."

Clark didn't say so, but he definitely wanted an explanation as well. There were too many things about their mystery man to make him entirely comfortable in the other man's presence.

"This way," Lois said.

The first basement level, Clark thought, appeared to contain a number of small offices and various larger rooms which seemed to be used for storage. He scanned them as they passed, and verified that they mostly contained store merchandise.

The white walls of the basement showed no pictures such as those that dotted the walls along the executive's hallway on the floor above. They moved along at a brisk pace intended to discourage any possible passerby from trying to snare them into a conversation which would surely prove to be their undoing.

They came almost at once to a place where the hallway branched, going both left and right.

"This way." Lois turned left.

"Where are we going?" Clark inquired.

"This is the way to the hidden elevator." Lois strode ahead confidently.

The passage this way was short, Clark saw. It turned right, and then right again, and ended in a blank wall.

"This is it," Lois said. "When I got here the first time, all of a sudden the wall started sliding and there were elevator doors behind it. And then Brunner and his two muscle boys stepped out, and you know the rest."

Clark bent forward, examining the wall. "There's probably something on this side to open the door," he said. "I don't suppose you know what it is."

Lois shook her head. "They just forced me into the elevator," she said.

"Yeah." Clark turned his head, looking over the top of his glasses. "Look for anything that might be a call button," he suggested. "There has to be something."

"Maybe it's on one of the side walls," Lois suggested. "I don't see where it could be hidden, though. How do you hide something on a white wall?"

"You make it the same color as the wall," Clark said. "Look."

"What?" Lois turned her head.

"Here." Clark indicated an inch square section of wall that, of course, wasn't wall at all. It was a white square of plastic set flush with the wall several inches above his eye level. If he hadn't been looking for it, he would never have seen it, and having X-ray vision certainly made it much easier to find.

"How did you see that?" Lois said. "Should we push it?"

That, of course, was the question. If they called the elevator, they would be able to reach the sub-basement. On the other hand, if someone happened to be in the elevator, they could be in trouble.

As the thought occurred to him, the wall started to move.

Part 24

The afternoon was turning into early evening when William Henderson's phone rang. He restrained himself from snatching the receiver up too quickly. "Henderson."

"It's Jackson, sir," a voice said. "Our boys still report no sign of anything. Yet."

"I don't expect anything until it starts to get dark," Henderson said. "Just keep your eyes on things until then, just to be sure. And if you do see anything the least bit unusual, call me right away."

"Yes sir," Jackson said. "We've got the landing site that Superman spotted on camera from three directions. If they show up, we'll have it on video. No action around the cottage or parking lot yet, either. But --"

"But what?"

"Sergeant Schultz reports one of his men spotted Lane and Kent entering the Cost Mart by the main door about two hours ago. No one has seen them leave."

"Was it a positive ID?" Henderson quelled a faint sense of dismay, intermixed with exasperation. In his experience with Lois Lane, such a circumstance usually meant trouble.

"He was sure of Lane, and almost sure the guy with her was Kent."

"Hell --." Henderson bit off the expletive. "Well, if they've gotten into trouble, let's hope they can get themselves out of it. They know the risks. I'm not going to blow the one chance we've had to crack this operation open. Tell Schultz to pass along to his men to be aware that Lane and Kent are probably inside and may be prisoners." He didn't even want to contemplate the very real probability that if Church and his subordinates got hold of Lane and Kent, that they could wind up as two more "vampire victims" to add to the growing total, but considered it because he was a cop.

"Got it, boss." Jackson's voice was completely businesslike. Henderson hung up and reached for his jacket. It was close enough to evening, he decided, shrugging himself into the garment and glancing at his desk clock, which showed 16:36, that he should be on-scene, just in case. And if by chance, Lane and Kent did manage to come out of this unscathed, he would be strongly tempted to arrest both of them.

**********

The wall rolled smoothly aside, and behind it, the metal doors of an elevator parted smartly, to the soft "ting" of a bell. Two men, both in jeans and the green T-shirts, exited, glancing curiously at Clark.

Clark returned their look with one of the patented expressions of his alter-ego, designed to intimidate small-time law-breakers. Lois, standing directly behind him to present as little of herself to a clear view of the new arrivals as possible, fortunately was in a poor position to see his face.

It worked. The two men quickly looked downward at the carpet and moved past Clark with barely restrained haste. As they disappeared beyond the turn in the passageway and their voices faded, Lois released her breath in a faint sigh. She must have been holding it, Clark surmised, and probably wasn't nearly as sure of herself as she pretended, which didn't surprise him. The insane risks his partner sometimes took stemmed, he very well knew, not from overconfidence, but from a determination to prove to the world, and mostly to her father, that she deserved the reputation that she had established over the years she had worked at the Planet. Clark, of course, knew very well that she more than deserved the reputation and the awards that her derring-do had won her, but he also knew that no matter how many she earned, that her harshest critic, and one that would never be appeased, was herself.

But he never said so. He simply made it his business to keep her alive, because a world without Lois Lane in it was one he didn't want to contemplate.

"See?" Lois whispered. "The suit fooled them! I told you it would. Quick! Get in before it closes!"

Clark reached out to catch the closing door, and the two of them quickly entered the elevator.

"Better get behind me again," Clark said. "You should be wearing a green T-shirt and jeans to pass for a Cost Mart employee."

"I don't think it would matter," Lois said. "Did you notice the bulletin board when we came into the store?"

Clark hadn't. "What did you see?"

"My picture, in living color. I thought you saw it from what you said."

"I didn't, but I'm not surprised. Every criminal enterprise in Metropolis probably has your picture posted if they have any sense." Clark pressed the button for the bottom floor. "Okay; here goes nothing."

The doors closed and the car began to descend. Clark looked downward, lifting his glasses slightly in order to see below them. The hallway below seemed, at least for the moment, to be empty of life. Slightly relieved, he pushed his glasses back into place, but kept his super-hearing peeled for any changes.

At last, the car reached the sub-basement and came to a halt with a softly elegant, pneumatic sigh. The doors slid open to the discrete "ting" that announced its arrival.

Lois poked her head out from behind Clark's shoulder to survey the empty hallway. "I'd like carpet like this on my apartment's floor. You know, for a bunch of thugs, they sure do like the finer things in life. Who puts Persian carpet in one of these things?"

Clark could have said the same thing about her ex-fiance, but refrained. No one knew better than he how sensitive his partner was about that particular episode in her life, no matter how hard she tried to pass it off as a meaningless mistake. One day he intended to apologize sincerely to her for his own childish behavior, which, he freely admitted, had more or less pushed her into Luthor's arms, but he wasn't quite in the position to do that yet. A number of other things had to be resolved first, and then he might offer that apology. With luck, she wouldn't kill him first.

Slowly, he stepped out of the elevator into the hallway. Lois followed him.

**********

"Can you find the room where you were held?" Clark inquired softly.

"Yeah; I think so. It's this way." Lois took the lead, walking slowly, examining the wall on her left. It had been on this side, she recalled, and from the outside it showed no sign of a door. Partway down the hallway, she stopped. "I think it was about here."

Clark was fiddling with his glasses, as he frequently did for no reason she could discern. It was probably a nervous habit. Slowly, he reached forward and rapped softly on the wall.

"Shh!" Lois looked around quickly. "Do you want to let everybody know we're here?"

"I don't hear anybody," Clark said. He rapped on the wall a little farther down the way. "Hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"It rattled a little. I think your door is right here."

"Probably." Lois looked nervously up and down the hallway, but there was no sign anyone had heard the faint noise.

"How do you suppose they open it?" Clark stood back, surveying the wall. "Aha! Another camouflaged button." He reached up and pressed on another inch square of white plastic, slightly above his eye level.

The wall section slid smoothly open and Lois found herself looking in at a room she never wished to see again. "Yeah; that's it."

"Think you can find the way out from here?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Our mysterious friend led me out, but there were so many turns I'm not sure I can find it."

"Well, which way did you go first?"

She pointed on down the hallway. "That way."

"Okay." Clark started slowly in the direction she had indicated. He was fiddling with his glasses again, she noticed. Then he reached into a pocket and produced an old fashioned compass.

"What's that for?" she inquired.

"It's a compass."

"I know that; but why do you have a compass?"

"I figured I could use it to tell which way we're going, so we know roughly which direction the parking lot tunnel is located."

"You know how to use one?" Lois inquired. "Because I don't."

"Sure."

"I've been meaning to get one of those new GPS systems for my car," she said irrelevantly. "They've been out for a couple of years now. My sister has one."

"Oh? How does it work?"

"I don't know. I haven't used it. Which way is the parking lot?"

Clark pointed, looking at his compass. "There's a place where the hallway turns ahead. I think we should go right."

"I hope you know what you're doing," Lois grumbled.

"So do I." Clark turned right. Lois followed, wishing that this place had some kind of landmarks, but all the walls were the same. They passed big double doors here and there in the walls, which must, she figured, open on storerooms for Cost Mart goods. And maybe, of course, other things not quite so legal, if Cost Mart were indeed a branch of Intergang. Which she was sure it was.

"How far away are we?" she asked, at last.

"I don't know for sure. There's another turn ahead. We need to turn left, this time."

"How do you know?"

"The parking lot is northwest of the main entrance," he explained, "and by the time we got into the back with the offices, it was mostly north of us. I'm trying to estimate roughly how far we've come, and where the tunnel should be from where we are. Maybe that'll be enough."

Lois hoped so, although she didn't have much faith in the little compass or in her partner's estimations, but since she had no better idea she followed along, her ears straining for any sound that might tell them that they weren't alone down here. Clark turned left and right, and left again and before long, as she had been the first time, Lois was completely turned around. Finally, Clark stopped.

"By my reckoning," he said, "the tunnel should be about a hundred feet that way." He pointed directly at a pair of doors that must open on one of the storerooms.

There was a sudden, loud click above them. Startled, Lois looked up in time to see a cloud of mist begin to spray from the vent in the ceiling, and at the same time, doors slid out of what had appeared to be blank walls, trapping them in a ten foot section of hallway.

She tried to push at the doors to the storeroom, beside her. Maybe if she and Clark could get into the larger space, the gas would be diluted. If they could make it to the tunnel.

Lois's eyes felt oddly unfocused, and her legs didn't want to work. She had a vague feeling that she was tipping forward into a swirling pit of blackness and mist and tried to save herself, but she couldn't lift her arms. From somewhere she heard Clark's voice, telling her to hold her breath, but she couldn't do that either.

Her last vague thought before she slid off into oblivion was that maybe this hadn't been such a good idea, after all.

**********

Clark saw Lois slump and tried to cushion her fall. They were probably on camera somewhere, he thought, which effectively barred Superman from going into action to save the day, so he allowed himself to fall to his knees and collapse to the floor.

As he did so, the hiss of gas stopped, and after a few seconds, the sections that blocked the tunnel slid silently back into the wall once more. Three men, wearing gas masks, who had been waiting on the other side, moved forward and one of them scooped Lois unceremoniously off the floor. The remaining two seized Clark by the arms and between them, dragged him after them along the floor, back in the direction they had come.

Moments later, they paused. Peeking under his lids, Clark saw the man carrying Lois over his shoulders like a sack of meal reach up and push the little plastic square above his eye level.

The wall slid open. He proceeded through and dumped his burden unceremoniously onto a chair. The two men dragging Clark followed and let him thump ungently to the carpet.

"That's it. Let's go," one of them said.

"Not yet," the man who had carried Lois said briefly. "The boss said there's one more." He chuckled softly. "Vampire's gonna be busy tonight."

There was a general laugh.

Clark didn't dare open his eyes now, as he was face up, and all three men were standing within feet of him. He concentrated on breathing naturally and listening to everything around him.

Footsteps were approaching, and a very familiar voice was speaking.

"Why are you doing this? I already promised I'll never tell anyone!"

"That's what we're going to make sure of," someone else said, sounding disinterested. "In there, now."

"My God! You've killed them!"

"They're not dead. Not yet, anyway." That was the voice of one of the men who had dragged him, Clark thought. "Sit down, Vlad. You got some time to kill."

"My name," the man addressed as Vlad said, "Is not Vlad!"

"Close enough," someone else said. "Let's go." That was evidently addressed to his companions. There was a general shuffle of feet, and then the soft click as the door slid shut. Clark opened his eyes.

Aloysius Filnor, dressed once more in his vampire costume, stood staring at him. They were in the room where Lois had been imprisoned only a few days ago. And this time, Superman was imprisoned with them.

Great, Clark thought grimly. Just great.

Part 25

Lois Lane opened her eyes. She was lying on a sofa that she had hoped not ever to see again, with a sofa cushion supporting her head, which was throbbing painfully. The sound of voices nearby made little sparks of light seem to dance across her vision with every beat of her heart. She groaned faintly.

"Lois?" Clark was suddenly kneeling beside her. "How do you feel?"

She moaned a little louder. "Keep your voice down," she whispered.

"Oh." Clark's voice was suddenly a whisper. "Bad, huh?"

She raised a hand to cover her eyes from the incredibly bright light that seemed to be blazing in her face. "Can you turn off the floodlights?"

The light went off, leaving the room pitch black. An instant later, a light came on somewhere to her left, but since the back of the sofa was between her and it, it was bearable. Just.

"Lie still," Clark's voice said softly. "You'll feel better in a while."

"I'm really sorry, Ms. Lane," another voice said from out of the dimness, sending small pulses of pain through her temples once more. "I really didn't think anyone would get hurt."

"Be quiet," Clark's voice said softly. "You heard her."

"Haven't you ever had a hangover?" Lois half-snarled. "Shut up!"

Silence fell. Clark didn't speak again, nor did the other, unidentified person. Very gradually, the throbbing in her head receded to bearable levels, and she began to recall what had happened just prior to waking up here. They were in the Cost Mart prison where she had spent a very uncomfortable afternoon and evening a few days ago, followed by other equally disturbing events. It looked like the luck for the Hottest Team in Town was holding true.

She began to push herself cautiously to a sitting position, and at once Clark's hands were there, helping her. She leaned forward, burying her face in her palms.

"Are you all right?" Clark asked.

"No," she muttered. "And keep your voice down."

"Oh. sorry."

Gradually, the slight nausea engendered by her change in position subsided somewhat, and she was able to raise her head. Clark had seated himself beside her, and in a chair across the room, the man who had burst into her apartment in an attempt to scare her away from her investigation -- or something, she figured -- sat watching her apprehensively.

She looked steadily back at him and watched him begin to squirm uneasily.

She rubbed her temples gingerly. "I hope," she said at last, "that you've learned something about making deals with criminal syndicates. They don't keep their end of the agreement very often. It's inconvenient."

The "vampire" looked at the toes of his shoes. "So Mr. Kent explained," he said in a low voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone would be hurt. It was just an acting job, and I needed the money."

"And just where did you think all the bodies were coming from?" she demanded acerbically. Again she rubbed her temples. Her stomach seemed to be fairly steady, which was remarkable. The last time she'd been hit with chloroform, she'd been sick for quite a while after waking up. But it probably hadn't been chloroform. She didn't remember the telltale odor.

The man shifted uncomfortably. "I really didn't connect them with ... with what I'd been hired to do," he said. "No doubt it was very naive of me, but --"

"That's one way to describe it," Lois said shortly. "Why didn't ... what do we call you, anyway? I can't go on thinking of you as the 'fake vampire.' Do you have a name?"

"He said to call him Al," Clark interjected quietly. "It's been about forty-five minutes since they caught us. After I made sure you were breathing, he and I had time to talk a little."

"All right," Lois said. "And do you have any idea what's going on?" she asked, fixing Al with her most intimidating stare.

The man shook his head. "Not really. Mr. Church wasn't very specific. He told me what I had to do and I did it. It seemed rather strange, but I was just doing my job."

"Right," Lois said. She looked at Clark. "I searched this room from one end to the other, the last time I was trapped in here," she said. "I couldn't find a way out. If it hadn't been for our mysterious friend, I'd probably have been killed that night, and that's what will happen to us soon, if we don't find a way out of this mess. Do you have any ideas? I don't think we can count on him rescuing us a second time."

Clark shook his head. "I'm not going to let that happen," he said flatly.

The note of finality startled Lois. Clark had a grim expression about his full-lipped mouth that gave her a faintly uneasy feeling. Her partner looked almost as if he had resigned himself to making some kind of final decision.

Well, if he had any ideas of sacrificing himself for her, he was way off the mark. She had no intention of letting him do any such thing.

"Have you looked at the door?" she asked. "Can you find a lock anywhere?"

"I think the only way to open this is from the other side," Clark said.

"Well, maybe there's something we can figure out," Lois said. "We usually work better together than we do alone. If we had some tools, maybe we could figure a way to undo that door."

"What do you mean?"

"Clark," she said, with determined patience, "I knew there was a chance I could get trapped in here another time when we came over here. I'd already had one try at it, hadn't I? This time I made a few preparations."

"Preparations?" His eyebrows flew up. "They cleaned out your purse before they threw us in here, you know." He nodded at her shoulder bag, lying discarded on the carpet.

"Do you think I'd be so stupid as to bring anything important in here in my purse?" she said incredulously. "Clark, how dumb do you think I am?"

"Not a bit," Clark said, the faintest of smiles on his lips. "You're one of the smartest women I know. In fact, the only other woman I know who's as smart as you is my mom. So what did you do?"

Lois bent to remove her shoe. "Didn't you notice my joggers have kind of thick soles? I got these from Louie last year. They're specially made."

"Who's Louie?" Al asked, sounding bewildered.

"He's a guy who knows guys," Clark told him, absently. His attention was focused on Lois. "I take it Louie included some useful stuff?"

"Exactly," Lois said. She hooked her fingers in the back of her shoe's heel and pulled.

The apparently rubber heel clicked downward and several very small items fell out onto the pillows of the couch. Lois shut the heel again, shoved the shoe onto her foot and removed the other one. Quickly, she repeated the motion, and displayed her treasure trove.

"Lock pick," she said, exhibiting the tiny, well-folded item. "Micro-miniature, diamond-tipped drill for cutting through metal, and battery. Some assembly required. Mini-scalpel. Miniature wire cutters. Of course, they only cut small wires. Forceps. Ear plug, micro-mini-button microphone. Light. Can you do anything with this, or should I?"

"No explosives?" Clark said, sounding disappointed.

"No. There was a limit to what would fit in my heels," she said. "Don't be silly."

Al's jaw was practically sitting on the floor. Good, Lois thought. Maybe the demonstration would give him an inkling in his tiny little brain exactly who he was dealing with. With fingers that still shook slightly, she began to snap together her litany of tools.

**********

Clark watched his beautiful partner assembling her weapons with grim determination and felt his hope growing. Lois had come through again, as she always did when Superman needed help desperately. He had resigned himself to the probability of having to reveal his identity to get them out of this mess. If Lois had been the only one in the room, it wouldn't have been so bad. He'd been thinking hard for some time about the possibility of telling her the truth about his relationship with Superman. He hadn't worked up the nerve yet, but he knew that eventually he was going to have to do so. If they had been alone, she would probably already know, or if not, would within a few minutes, but with Al sitting chaperone beside them, he had been putting off the event in the faint hope that something would occur to make it unnecessary. It looked as if Lois had supplied the event. Even if the tools proved inadequate to the job, they would provide the cover for him to use his special gifts to open that door and credit the tools, but it was quite possible that Lois would succeed all by herself. She deserved to. He certainly should have known that Lois Lane wouldn't be caught in the same trap twice without some kind of backup plan.

Lois looked up at last. "Okay. That's the best I can do," she said. "As I remember, the door is over there."

Clark walked over to the door and put his finger on the spot that marked where the latch was on the other side. "I think the lock is about here."

Lois inserted the button receiver in one ear and moved carefully over to the door. "I wish my head felt a little better."

"If you like, I'll do it," Clark offered.

"Give me a minute," Lois said. "If it gets too bad, you can take over." She took the miniature drill between her fingers and flipped the tiny switch.

The mechanism responded with a soft hum. Lois applied the point to the wall and the hum turned into a high whine that made Clark wince, but a peek with his X-ray vision showed him that she was drilling right into the mechanism. Whether it would be enough he couldn't be sure, but Superman's heat vision could finish anything the drill couldn't.

There was a tiny clinking sound. The drill bit had encountered the actual tumblers. Lois withdrew it for a moment to check the tip. It seemed undamaged.

Clark knelt beside her, shining the tiny flashlight into the pinpoint hole. The little flashlight was barely half the diameter of a cigarette, and he wondered absently where she had gotten the batteries. "I think you hit the tumbler. Try moving it a little to the right. Let's see if you can cut a few holes in the shaft that's holding the door closed. If you can weaken it, maybe I can break it open."

Lois nodded and re-inserted the drill. For several seconds, she felt around with the tip and then switched it on once more. Following the progress with his X-ray vision, Clark could see that she was cutting a tiny hole directly through the metal bar that inserted into the door frame. He hoped the battery would hold out long enough, but even if it didn't, he at least had an excuse for the latch to break when he hit it with his shoulder. And there was nothing to say that he couldn't use the hole for a path for his heat vision to improve the job.

For long minutes, there was no sound in the room but the whine of the drill and the breathing of three people. Lois cut the power, felt around again, and turned it back on. After a moment, she repeated the procedure. Clark tuned out his super hearing and tried to ignore the sound. It wasn't the most comfortable feeling to have that high buzzing in his ears, but he figured he could manage it as the price of their freedom and his secret identity. He wondered how Lois stood it with the little receiver in her ear.

"What are we going to do about the surveillance camera?" Lois asked, not pausing in her work. "And why do you suppose they didn't spot me when our mystery friend rescued me the first time?"

"My guess is the camera is close to the exit," Clark said. "We can hope so, anyhow. As for the other -- who knows? Maybe he was the one watching it. Or maybe he turned it off or something."

"He was wearing a Cost Mart uniform," Lois said. "I guess he might have been able to do something like that."

"Or maybe the camera wasn't on or something, and he knew it," Clark said. "He seems to know a lot of things he isn't expected to know."

"I noticed that," Lois said. Again she withdrew the tiny drill and re-inserted it. "I think I've got about four holes through the latch," she added. "Do you want to try your brute strength thing now?"

"Sure," Clark said.

Lois pulled the drill back again, got to her feet and stepped aside.

Clark had been checking with his X-ray vision and his enhanced hearing, but there were no sounds in the vicinity. Bracing himself, he rammed his shoulder against the door with considerably less force than he was actually capable of, but that, of course, didn't matter. There was a slight screech of metal and the door popped smartly open.

Lois stood looking at him with her eyebrows slightly raised. "Wow," she said.

"You did a good job with that drill," Clark said. "Let's get out of here."

Lois hastily dumped her implements into her otherwise empty handbag and glanced quickly at Al. "Better move, pal. Unless you want Bill Church to finish the job."

Al got hurriedly to his feet. "I'm coming, but what are you going to do?"

"We're going to make tracks as fast as we can," Clark said. He glanced at his partner. "Do you want to try to get out the tunnel again, or do you think we should try the elevator?"

"Good question. Do you think they'd be watching? They think we're locked up, so they may not expect trouble. Besides, they might be guarding the elevators."

"Let's head back toward the exit to the tunnel, but watch and see if you can spot the camera. And we move fast," Clark said determinedly. "We know where they caught us. If we're quick enough --"

"You lead," Lois said. "I'm rear guard."

Clark nodded and took the lead, scanning the area ahead of them with his enhanced vision. Each time before turning a corner, he paused to carefully check for the security camera that had betrayed them the last time. Al stumbled noisily along behind him until Lois whacked the man on the shoulder with one hand.

"Look, idiot," she said, her voice no less intense because it was kept to a whisper, "if you can't make less racket, maybe you'd like to duck into one of these rooms and hide until we come back with the cops! We're trying to be quiet!"

Clark felt slightly sorry for the man, but Lois had a point. The last thing they needed was to get caught again simply because Al blundered along like a small herd of cattle. He paused at the corner that led into the final hallway, and started to peek around it.

A short, compact, dark-featured figure, wearing the green t-shirt and jeans that was the Cost Mart employee uniform was standing only a few feet away. With a start, Clark recognized Lois's rescuer.

The slim, muscular man with the glittering black eyes held a finger to his lips and beckoned. Clark hesitated only a second and obeyed the silent command.

Behind him, Al gasped audibly, and he heard Lois whack the hapless actor again. "Sh!"

The dark man's teeth flashed in that brilliant, white grin, and he turned, beckoning again. They followed him down the short corridor, toward the doors that led to the storeroom, and beyond it the exit into the tunnel. He opened the door and waved them through, all in utter silence, and Clark pushed first Lois and then Al through the opening. He followed, aware that the dark man was silently closing the door behind them. For a few seconds they stood in complete darkness, and then a low light came on overhead.

"Your Inspector Henderson has laid his trap well," the low accented voice said quietly. "He is, however, most annoyed with you. Perhaps it would be well if you stayed in the outer corridor until events resolve themselves outside."

"How come they didn't see you on camera?" Lois demanded.

"I believe you would call it a trade secret, Ms. Lane." The dark eyes of their strange friend held a faint twinkle of amusement. He extended a hand, and Clark saw her miniature camera lying in his palm. Lois almost snatched it up. "Take your photographs for your story quickly, and then go," their rescuer said. "It is possible that Mr. Church or his minions will seek to escape the hands of the law by this route when they realize that their scheme has been revealed to others." He shifted his attention to Al, who had wrapped his vampire cloak around himself in an almost defensive pose.

"So this is the fool they chose to tell their lie. You are more fortunate, my friend, than you deserve. Do not fail to learn from this."

"What are you talking about?" Al demanded.

The dark man's face grew remote. "Fools who fail to learn from experience do not remain fools long," he said. Clark felt a chill tingle across the back of his neck, although it was said in a perfectly expressionless tone.

"You've been right in the middle of this since almost the beginning," he said suddenly. "What happened to Henderson's men?"

The dark man regarded him soberly. "They were victims of this evil enterprise called Intergang. They saw too much, and those who hired them knew that they saw."

"How about the first body in the park?" Lois asked suddenly. "The homeless guy?"

The dark man was silent for a long minute. "That was the beginning," he said. "His death was accidental and unfortunate. The result of too long a time in darkness. The leaders of Intergang saw it and used it for their own purposes."

Clark didn't comment, but a shiver tried to lift the hair on his scalp. The dark man regarded him soberly. "Time is short," he said. "Do what you came to do and depart quickly."

From her expression, Lois hadn't missed the significance of what he had said, Clark thought, but she turned away, lifting her camera. A number of the boxes stored in this place had been opened, and their contents lay exposed to the overhead light. Lois began taking pictures.

Clark listened. There was no noise in the outer corridor, but there was noise some distance above their heads, and coming closer with surprising speed. The dark man was watching him silently.

"Do not take too long to decide," he said suddenly. "One can lose a great deal with an excess of caution."

Somehow Clark didn't think he was talking about Intergang. "I take it you speak from experience?" he asked.

"I knew such a one as she, long ago," the dark man said. "They were much alike both in beauty and in spirit. I wished to protect her, but in the end I paid dearly." He turned his head. "You must go, now."

Clark could hear the rush of approaching footsteps, but he hesitated. "Someone tried to kidnap her last night," he said. "And someone who wasn't Superman saved her."

The other man looked away. "We all have our secrets," he said. "Go. Hurry." Without another pause, he crossed the dim room to the exit and opened it without ceremony. "You must go now!"

Clark grasped Lois by one wrist and Al by the upper arm. "Come on, quick." He hustled them out the door into the stone corridor beyond. Behind him, in the room, he heard the opening of the door to the hall. The dark man stepped silently through the opening behind them and closed the door with the same eerie silence.

"Come," his voice said quietly. A penlight in his hand cast its pale beam on the stone floor. "There is not much time."

Part 26

Lois looked back as their guide closed the door silently behind the little group and then up at her suddenly assertive partner. Clark had a scowl on his face that she couldn't quite interpret.

Their mystery man turned quickly toward them. A little penlight in his hand illuminated the narrow, dark tunnel. "Come. There is not much time."

Lois opened her mouth to protest, but found Clark tugging at her arm, and shoving Al ahead of him down the tunnel.-

The cement floor was illuminated by the penlight, and was free of any debris from the passage of Cost Mart's smugglers, and their helpful, if mysterious friend urged them ahead with a low-pitched warning. "Quickly. They will come soon. This is their only avenue of escape."

"What is this place?" Al stuttered.

"A smuggling tunnel your boss and his friends built under the parking lot," Lois said. "Why haven't they opened that door, anyway? They were right behind us."

"I am not entirely without resources," the dark man said. "But my measures will not hold them long. Do not waste valuable time. There is very little of it, now."

As if to underline his warning, a loud clang echoed around them, as if someone had struck the metal door with a hammer or a crowbar.

"Hurry!" Clark whispered urgently.

Lois hesitated no longer, but turned and strode down the tunnel toward the exit ladder, pushing Al ahead of her without further argument. Behind them were more sounds of metal striking metal, which served only to urge the party to greater speed. Ahead, some distance away, was the metal ladder that led to the parking lot exit. That might be a good place to get out before the Cost Mart goons behind that door managed to break through into the tunnel, she thought.

When they had gone what seemed to her to be considerably farther than the length of the parking lot, she realized that the utter darkness of the tunnel ahead wasn't so intense all at once. A pale, faintly ruddy light, which must be the last, ghostly rays of sunset, was sifting through the opening above. The exit!

She increased her stride to nearly a run to reach the ladder, crowding Al's patent leather boot heels in her haste. As she set her foot on the first rung, however, a loud explosion almost over her head, followed by several yells and a volley of more shots, made her stop.

"That's definitely not a good way out," Clark said, abruptly. "We'd be lucky not to be shot if we climbed up into that."

Another duo of shots, a little farther away, and a scream punctuated his words.

Behind them, the sounds of metal striking metal increased, and there was a sudden, protesting screech that nearly lifted the hair on Lois's head.

"The door is coming open," their guide said quietly.

"They'll be through it in a minute or two," Clark said. "Go on. There's still the ladder into the vacation cottage."

"We're going to get killed!" Al whispered as loudly as he dared.

"We will if you lose your nerve!" Lois retorted. "Move!" She gave him a push and started forward again.

They hurried ahead as fast as they dared. Somewhere behind them, another screech of agonized metal told them that the door had come open at last, and Lois wondered in the back of her mind what their guide had done to block it that way. She hadn't seen him do anything, but he had managed to prevent it from opening for more than five minutes. Some distance ahead, the corridor made its sharp turn, passing the opening in the wall that was the entrance to the crypt. Some way beyond that would be the ladder up into the vacation cottage.

Lois hurried ahead, rounding the turn and glancing at the spot on the wall that she and Clark had discovered, and wasn't particularly surprised to see that the dirt had been cleared, revealing the opening starkly in the light of the small flashlight. The hidden entrance was no longer hidden.

There was no time to explore it now, however. Ahead, perhaps another couple of hundred yards, was the ladder that ascended into the vacation cottage.

Behind them, more muffled now, she could still hear the sounds of gunshots echoing from the parking lot exit. Al jumped every time an explosion echoed through the tunnel. Lois wondered if he would ever recover from his experiences this evening. Hopefully not. It might make him think twice the next time someone offered him too good a deal.

"There's another way out ahead," she said. "Hurry up, or those guys behind us are going to catch up."

Behind her, the dark man raised his penlight, shining it ahead of them and revealing the metal ladder in its pale light. Al saw it and increased his pace.

They had barely crossed half the distance to their goal, however, when a voice shouted from somewhere above them, and several very loud explosions brought them to a stop. More shots were followed by the unmistakable chatter of automatic fire. Al turned a terrified face toward them.

"They're shooting! We can't go there!"

In the rear, their guide's voice spoke softly. "The others come. In moments you shall be trapped."

"What'll we do?" Al squeaked.

"Quickly," the dark man said. "This way."

Al opened his mouth to argue and Lois whacked him sharply between the shoulder blades. "Do what he says!"

In seconds, they were beside the entrance to the crypt. The dark man indicated it with a pointed finger, glancing at the same time over his shoulder. "Hurry. They will be here in less than a minute."

Lois dropped to her hands and knees and crawled through the opening. She heard a faint protest from Al, which was cut off sharply, and moved back in time to avoid the hapless actor tumbling on top of her, evidently shoved forcefully from behind. An instant later, Clark scrambled through the opening, the penlight in one hand.

"Hurry. Back there," he said breathlessly, and Lois found herself being pushed back deeper into the passage, away from the opening. It was several seconds before she realized that the dark man had not followed.

Clark extinguished the light. "Quiet!" he breathed.

"What if they look in here?" Al whispered loudly.

"Sh!" Lois restrained the urge to smack him again.

Clark shoved Al farther back into the passage. "Keep quiet!" he ordered in a stern whisper. He pushed Lois after him and took a position between her and the opening into the Cost Mart tunnel. Lois opened her mouth to protest and then shut it again. Now wasn't the time for a debate, but if they got out of here alive, she intended to have a few words with her partner. Where the heck did he think he got the right to play human shield for her, anyway?

Silence. Lois waited in the darkness, listening to the sound of her own heartbeat and the blood thrumming in her ears.

And then the footsteps of several men broke the silence. The low opening in the tunnel wall was illuminated by the yellow light of what was probably another penlight.

"Who the hell are you?"

Lois started at the sound of that familiar voice. Unless she was very much mistaken, the speaker was Bill Church Jr.

The dark man's chuckle held an almost sinister note. "Who I am is not important. By all means, continue on your way."

The explosion of a gunshot shattered the air. A little rattle of stone followed the sound.

The dark man laughed, and the sound made the hair on her neck want to stand up straight.

Another gunshot followed close on the laugh, and then someone screamed. Lois tried to squirm past Clark to see what was happening, but her partner had become the proverbial immovable object, and he didn't budge.

Another shot went off, and then two, together, followed by another scream, the sound of scuffling bodies, and then another gunshot. Clark's immovable form between Lois and the outer tunnel effectively frustrated her instinctive attempt to squeeze past him.

Then there was silence. A whole lot of silence.

Clark's penlight came on, illuminating the rock walls of the crypt. Slowly, he moved back to the hole and dropped down to crawl through the opening. Lois was right on his heels.

Four men were sprawled on the floor of the tunnel. The dark man stood observing them for a long minute in the light of a newly acquired flashlight, and turned to speak to Clark.

"The conflict above ground appears to have ended. Perhaps you should summon your friend, Henderson, to take custody of these men."

"Are they dead?" Lois whispered.

He glanced enigmatically at her. "They live, Miss Lane."

"I'll go up and see if I can find Henderson," Clark said. "Keep an eye on them." He inclined his head at the four unconscious men on the floor of the tunnel. "And don't let Al leave, either. He's got some explaining to do to Bill."

"That's for sure," Lois said. She glanced toward the actor, crawling dejectedly through the hole in the wall, and then back toward the dark man, opening her mouth to ask him what had happened out here in the tunnel while they had been inside the crypt.

But in the split second between the time that she had taken her eyes from him and looked back, he had disappeared. Perhaps it was only her imagination that supplied the sound of fluttering wings somewhere in the darkness beyond the circle of light from the penlight. She hoped so, anyway.

**********

Clark pushed the trapdoor in the vacation cottage open an inch or two.

The trapdoor flipped up suddenly and he found himself staring into the muzzles of three M-16s held by officers of the Metropolis Police Department.

"Hold it!" barked an official voice.

Clark froze in place. True, if the officers fired at him, he couldn't be physically hurt, but it would set off a chain of very bad circumstances for Clark Kent and Superman.

"Climb out of there," the same voice ordered. "Slowly."

Clark did so. As he stepped out into the room, a large hand shoved him against the nearest wall. "Put your hands behind your head and don't move!"

"I won't," he said. "My name is Clark Kent. I'm looking for Inspector Henderson."

A hand tugged at the wallet in his hip pocket. Other hands patted him down efficiently. There was silence for several seconds. "Turn around. Keep your hands behind your head."

Clark obeyed. A flashlight shone in his face as the three officers apparently compared his face to the photo on his driver's license.

"All right, you can put your hands down." The cop who seemed to be in command gave the order. He glowered at Clark. "Henderson isn't happy with you, Kent. You'll be lucky if he doesn't arrest you for interference."

"Sorry," Clark said. "I have some information for him, though."

"Tell me what it is and I'll decide if it's important enough to interrupt him."

"All right," Clark said. "My partner has Bill Church Jr. and three of his men waiting for you down in the smuggling tunnel."

The silence that followed this announcement was gratifying. The officer stared at him for several seconds. "Stay here." He pivoted on his heel and left the room.

In less than two minutes, he returned with William Henderson, looking bulkier and much more formidable in tactical gear. The Inspector looked balefully at Clark. "I should arrest both you and Lane, Clark. You could have been killed, and it would have served both of you right!"

"Probably," Clark said. "Did Sergeant Drummer give you my message?"

"That's the only reason I'm here. What's the situation down there?"

"Lois and Al -- I'll explain Al later -- are standing guard over Bill Church Jr. and three of his men in the smuggling tunnel."

"All right." Henderson spoke into the microphone of his headset. "Schultz, take over for me." He turned and nodded to the three cops. "You three are with me. Lead on, Clark, and let's hope Church and his boys are where you left them."

He was not to be disappointed. When Clark led the small contingent of police into the tunnel, Lois and Al were standing beside the four inert bodies of Bill Church Jr. and his henchmen. Lois and Al had evidently turned them on their backs while Clark had been getting help, for they lay face up, breathing heavily. Henderson waved for his men to check on the four and turned to Clark. "You got time to tell me what happened now?" He glanced sideways at Al, prominent in the bedraggled vampire outfit. "I get the feeling you and I have met before."

Al looked down. "Yeah, we have."

"This is Al," Clark said. "He's an actor hired by Bill Church to play the part of the vampire. He was slated to be killed along with Lois and me."

"Inspector!" Sergeant Drummer said. "Look at this!"

Henderson turned. "Yeah?"

"Look at their throats!" The man's voice held a note that Clark hadn't heard in it before. He knew why, but he looked at Lois, who met his eyes for an instant, and then looked down. She said nothing.

Henderson looked, and Clark thought his expression grew a little grimmer. Clark didn't blame him.

On every throat were two small, telltale punctures -- each just over a carotid artery.

Henderson was silent for a long moment, and then he spoke into the microphone of his head set again, summoning police paramedics and others to transport the four men to the nearest hospital. He looked at Clark and Lois who now stood side by side, watching the scene. "I take it there's an explanation for this."

"We didn't actually see what happened," Lois said. "We were hiding in the crypt."

Henderson looked at Lois and Clark without expression. "When the paramedics get here," he said, "the three of you are coming upstairs with me, and you're not leaving until I've heard everything that happened to you. Is that clear?"

Somehow, Clark suspected that now was not a good time to argue. He nodded without speaking. And for once, Lois didn't argue, either.

Part 27

Eventually, Henderson let them go. By that time the mop-up was well underway, and both Lois and Clark spent their remaining time at Cost Mart conducting interviews with anyone who could be persuaded to answer questions, no matter how trivial. Henderson sent Al back to the station under escort, but forbore to arrest him, at least for the present.

"No," he replied to Lois's inquiry. "Unless I find out something incriminating about him, I won't hold him after tomorrow. It's not a crime to be naïve."

"You mean dumb as a rock," Lois said, earning her a pained look from Henderson.

"I'm holding him for his protection," Henderson said. "I don't want his bosses to decide to eliminate him. Once I have his signed statement, I'm going to ask Superman to get him and his wife out of town as quietly as possible. He thinks he's in danger from his boss, and from what you told me, I tend to agree."

"Yeah, he probably is," Lois admitted. "But I still haven't completely forgiven him for that trick in my apartment."

Henderson snorted, but chose to drop the subject. "What do you plan on writing about the crypt?" he inquired. "I'm including the discovery as a footnote in my report, but no one will be allowed near it until we're sure we've got all the evidence we need."

"Clark and I decided to do a preliminary story on it," Lois said. "He's filling in the background and I'm writing about what we found in it, just to get people interested. After all, it's a local historical artifact. We figured we could do a series about the native inhabitants and some of their legends. I imagine you'll have people from the Metro Museum of Natural History wanting to get a look at it as soon as possible."

"Probably," Henderson agreed. "I'll be interested in what they find, myself." He removed his helmet with a faint sigh of relief and scratched his scalp thoroughly. "I'm glad to get that off," he remarked. "We're just about through here, for now. Can I give you and Clark a ride home?"

"As a matter of fact, we have a ride," Lois said. "I borrowed it from a friend."

The police inspector gave her a searching look. "Lois, even I wouldn't be crazy enough to lend you my car," he remarked. "The last time you borrowed someone's car, if I remember correctly, somebody planted a bomb in it."

"That was last year," Lois said. "And most of the cars I've borrowed have been returned without a mark on them!"

He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't reply. Instead, he said, "You can pick up your car at the station whenever you like. We finished with it last night."

"Why didn't you tell me that this morning?" Lois demanded.

Henderson didn't answer. Instead, he picked up his gear and started toward his car which was parked in the lot some distance away. Lois glared after him.

Clark laughed softly. "Never mind," he said. "Let's go home and write the story."

**********

The major story about the police raid on Cost Mart broke in the morning edition of the Daily Planet, with plenty of follow-ups coming in by the minute for the evening edition. Lois and Clark spent a large portion of their time on the phone or rushing in and out from interviews with "anonymous sources." In between that, Clark had Jimmy researching as much of the information that he could find on the local Native Americans that had been New Troy's first residents, in preparation for the story about the hidden crypt that was set to break that evening.

"Brr!" Lois pulled off her coat, shook it vigorously and hung it on the coat rack. Ralph, just passing by, ducked to avoid the spatter of drops from the melting snowflakes that liberally peppered him. "Hey, watch it, Lane! This is a new sports jacket!"

"Then why did you wear it on a day like this?" she inquired with a wave of her hand at the window that showed that the snowfall outside had not abated one jot from this morning.

"I didn't plan on going out in the snow with it," Ralph grumbled.

"Ralph!" Perry's bellow cut across the racket in the newsroom on cue. "The dog show starts in twenty minutes! You're supposed to be across town right now! Get goin'!"

"Uh -- I thought I'd handle it by phone," Ralph replied. "I've got the phone number of one of the contestants."

"What, you're gonna interview a French poodle?" Perry demanded.

"Well, one of the owners," Ralph amended.

"Yeah, that'll make for dramatic journalism," Perry said ironically. "Get yourself over there. And don't forget a photographer!"

"Chief, it's snowing!"

"All of a sudden you're gonna dissolve in a little snowstorm? Get a move on, or you're fired!"

Ralph threw Lois a dirty look, grabbed his overcoat off the rack and started for the elevator. "You're with me, Pielke! Let's go!"

The photographer who usually worked with Ralph picked up his camera and followed, taking his coat from the rack as he passed.

"They'll probably cancel the show with all this snow," Lois remarked to Jimmy Olsen, who arrived at her desk at that moment. "Perry's going to want a few things to fill up space if they do."

"Maybe you and CK could do the one on the Blood Spirits," Jimmy suggested, dropping a stack of printer paper on her desk. "I found some more stuff on the legend. Some local anthropologist wrote a whole book on them."

"On the Blood Spirits?" Lois asked, startled.

"Well, no, on the legends. But the whole legend of Night Eagle was there. Kind of romantic in a sad sort of way. I felt kind of sorry for him."

"Oh? What happened to him?"

"Well, Night Eagle loved this girl, Laughing Bird, but he didn't know if she loved him. She was the chief's daughter. Anyhow, her younger sister was lured away from the camp by the Blood Spirits and Laughing Bird went after her. Night Eagle discovered it and went charging to the rescue. They were already drinking Laughing Bird's blood when he arrived, and he had to challenge the Blood Spirit chief to win her freedom. He destroyed them, but he was hurt in the fight, and then, in order to save her, he was forced to absorb her curse. After that she was okay, but he was only corporeal by night, and by day he was just a shade."

"Sounds like a hero to me," Lois said, thinking of the mysterious man who had saved her from the Cost Mart gang. Was it possible -- no, definitely not. Vampires -- even benevolent ones -- didn't exist. "So what finally happened to him?"

"Well, evidently, after he'd saved her and taken her curse, he and she were tied together, destined to live, never aging and never changing, until the curse was broken. Because of the curse, sometimes he was overcome by the blood thirst and fed on the worst of the tribe, and, of course, he was afraid to tell Laughing Bird the truth. One day she ran away, and nobody ever saw her again. Anyhow, after that Night Eagle closed himself off in a dark place, but promised his people that if the land was ever threatened again, he would return to defend it. Then he went to sleep to await her return, since they can only be freed from the curse by true love. Kind of sappy, really."

"Sounds like the poor guy was in a real bind," Lois said.

"I'll say. Anyway, that's the story, more or less. Maybe CK and you could put it in the article about the crypt. Besides, it sort of fits into the smuggling story. They were using the vampire shtick to try to scare people away, weren't they?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Lois said.

"I guess you're not worried about vampires anymore, anyhow."

"I never was," Lois said.

"I guess not. What happened to your crucifix, though?"

Lois scowled. "I got home last night and it was gone. I guess I lost it while all the things were happening yesterday. I couldn't go back at two in the morning in a snow storm to look for it: I wouldn't even know where to start looking. But I put an ad in the paper this morning. Maybe somebody will find it and give me a call."

"I hope so," Jimmy said. "That's a real shame."

"What is?" Clark asked, looking up from his computer screen. He had arrived only minutes before and had been typing furiously ever since.

"Lois lost her grandmother's crucifix yesterday," Jimmy said.

"That's too bad," Clark said. "Maybe somebody will find it, though."

"I hope so, but I'm not counting on it," Lois said. "Anyway, here's the stuff on the local legends Jimmy found for you." She indicated the stack of printer paper. "Better get busy. We've only got an hour to deadline."

Clark picked it up. "Right after I finish writing up the info I got from my source," he promised. "And the Superman rescue I happened to come across on the way back. He stopped a pile up at Fourth and Main when a dog ran into the street. Somebody slammed on his brakes to avoid it, and skidded into a fire hydrant. Cars were sliding all over the place, but fortunately, Superman was able to save the day, again. It'll make good filler."

"Was the dog all right?" Jimmy inquired.

"Yeah. His owner showed up in the middle of everything and took him away," Clark said. "Thanks for the research, Jimmy."

"No sweat," Jimmy said. He turned his head at a shout from the sports desk. "Oops. Gotta go."

"What did your informant have to say?" Lois asked.

"Several things," Clark said, typing as he spoke. "I wanted to know what happened to Bill Church Jr. and his friends after that business in the smuggling tunnel, for one."

"And?"

"They were examined last night at Metro General's emergency department," Clark said. "Bill Church was showing signs of shock and wasn't making much sense, and today he claims he doesn't remember any of it."

"I guess that figures," Lois said. "Even if he did remember, he'd never admit it. 'I don't recall' is one defense nobody can disprove."

"True," Clark agreed. "Anyway, they're in the prison ward for now. Charges are pending, but nobody knows exactly what they're going to be. On the other hand, several of the prisoners from the raid last night have fingered Clarence Brunner as the one that ordered the deaths of Henderson's men, and his two personal muscle men as the ones that carried it out. Apparently those would be the two who tried to pick you up the other night in your apartment parking lot and ended up dead."

"Convenient," Lois said.

"That's what Henderson said. On the other hand, it's been corroborated independently by three different people, so it might even be true. I guess we'll find out as the investigation goes forward, but it will take a while. Bill Jr. has lawyered up and Intergang's apparently got an army of lawyers on the case, and nobody's talking anymore."

"Figures," Lois said philosophically. "I don't suppose anybody's been arrested for Brunner's death."

"Nope. But remember, all three of the men involved, including Brunner, wound up dead, and so did the two who tried to kidnap you. It almost looks like you had a guardian angel during this whole affair."

"I suppose it does." Lois was silent for a long minute and then she shook her head. "I don't believe in vampires," she said firmly. "Not even in friendly Native American ones with a Superman complex."

"Neither does Henderson," Clark said. "Let me just finish this up and LAN it to Perry, and then I'll get started on that piece about the crypt. Jimmy's research about Night Eagle should help with the background and, at the same time, tie it to the smuggling ring."

Lois nodded. "Perry will like it," she said. "The Legend of Night Eagle as a tragic hero, sort of a Superman for his people, and Intergang, which tried to use his legend to smuggle guns and drugs into Metropolis. You don't suppose that really is Night Eagle's cave, do you?" She stopped. "What am I saying? He was probably nothing but a legend. Better hurry up and finish."

**********

The sun was setting when Lois finally shut off her computer and began to tidy up her desk. Clark's desk, characteristically, was organized and tidy, and her partner waited while she cleaned her computer screen and put a notebook pad into a bottom drawer of her desk. A considerable number of small, miscellaneous items had collected on the desk top and rather than pick them up individually, she swept them into the top drawer and pushed it shut.

"Ready," she announced.

Clark retrieved her coat and held it for her. Ready at last, they ascended to the upper level of the newsroom and Clark rang for the elevator, which arrived almost immediately.

Lois leaned her shoulders back against the wall of the car and blew out her breath. "What a day!" she said.

Her partner grinned. "You wouldn't have missed a minute of it," he pointed out.

She pretended to consider that for a moment and then laughed. "You're right. I just wish I knew who our mysterious friend really was, and how he was connected with this -- and how Bill Church and his goons really got those marks on their throats."

Clark didn't answer, and Lois continued, not noticing the expression on his face, "I don't buy the vampire explanation for a minute. There has to be a rational explanation for the so-called 'vampire' deaths that we can't account for via Intergang."

"Henderson may get the whole story yet," Clark said. "He doesn't buy the vampire angle either, even though Church is now claiming that he and his men were attacked by something in the tunnel."

Lois snorted. "Interesting how his story has changed since this afternoon. I think he's fishing for an insanity defense."

"Probably," Clark said.

The elevator reached the ground floor and the doors creaked open. Clark stood back, letting her exit first.

The sun had set, Lois noted as they went through the revolving doors into the chilly night air, and the twilight was deepening into night. To the west, the mass of storm clouds was colored a deep old rose that shaded upward into darker red-purple to purple that merged slowly into layers of somber gray-black snow clouds that hid the sky and from which descended with unwearied persistence the steady rain of flakes. Lois pulled the collar of her coat about her throat against the bite of the chilly air and turned left toward the lot, four blocks away where she had left her newly-returned Jeep. The sidewalk beneath her feet had been freshly swept, but already the feet of passing pedestrians were beginning to turn the new, light coating of snow into a trampled, muddy mess.

"I feel like a pizza tonight," she said.

"You don't look like one," Clark pointed out.

"Don't push your luck," she said. "Shall we go to Philippi's and have his special for dinner?"

"Sure," Clark said. "It sounds good."

They turned at the corner and came unexpectedly face to face with Inspector William Henderson. Lois stopped short. The Police Inspector didn't even blink.

"Lane and Kent," he remarked blandly. "What a pleasant surprise. I was on my way to the Daily Planet, hoping to catch you before you left. I saw your car in the lot near where I parked, so I'll walk along with you if you don't mind."

"What do you want, Henderson?" Lois inquired, bluntly.

"I've just come from Cost Mart and have some disturbing news for you," he said, matching his stride to theirs as they resumed their progress. "I was wondering if you might know something about it."

"Cut the cr --" Lois glanced at Clark. "Quit beating around the bush," she substituted. "What disturbing news?"

"Surely you remember the coffin you found in the Sleeper's chamber."

"What about it?"

Henderson shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his overcoat. "I went to look around the crypt, in a general way, since it's obvious somebody's been digging around the entrance. The coffin is gone. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"It's gone?" Lois repeated, slightly dismayed.

"Who took it?" Clark asked.

"If we knew that, we might have some chance of getting it back," Henderson said. "It's a valuable historical artifact. You're sure you don't know anything about it?"

"Of course not!" Lois said. "Why on Earth would we steal a coffin?"

"I didn't say you did. But I keep thinking about your mysterious friend," Henderson said slowly. "Where did he come from -- and where did he go? You say he was there in the tunnel with you and I believe you, but he vanished, all the same. We had every possible exit covered. Nobody could have smuggled that coffin out without being seen, either, but it's gone." He scowled darkly at Lois. "I don't believe in vampires," he said with unwonted emphasis, "but I'd sure like some answers."

"So would we," Lois said. "Did any of your people have a look at the basement door that enters the tunnel? Could it have been taken out that way?"

Henderson shook his head. "We had a guard on it after Clark came to find me, but we had every outer exit under surveillance from the previous night onward. Everyone that came and went was accounted for, and no one took a coffin out. Period."

"It probably won't help, but I'll let Superman know," Clark said.

"You do that. And ask him if he knows what happened to the lock on the basement door while you're at it."

"What was the matter with it?" Lois asked.

"The mechanism was melted solid," Henderson said. "Like Superman had used his heat vision on it."

Lois paused momentarily. "Melted? It was fine when we went through the door."

"Well, it was melted when we saw it," Henderson said. "The parts were completely fused."

Lois looked at her partner. "The mystery guy did something to delay Bill Church and his men, remember?"

"Yeah," Clark said. "They had trouble opening the door. It took them several minutes to get through."

"You think he did it?" Henderson asked.

"I guess it's possible," Clark said, "but I don't know how."

"Well, that's one more question to add to the list," Henderson said dryly.

Lois glanced uneasily toward the west. The last traces of sunset were barely visible amid the masses of layered clouds shrouding the western sky and snowflakes fell steadily and unceasingly, visible in the circles of light from the streetlamps. The lot where she had parked her car this morning was only a short distance away, and was only sparsely populated with vehicles at this hour of the evening. Traffic moved slowly down the street, their headlights reflecting off the snow and ice, and people huddled in coats went past them on the sidewalk.

The lot, when they arrived, had not benefitted, if that was the word, from the passage of hundreds of passersby, for snow coated the pavement with a thick layer of pristine white all around the spot where the Jeep sat, illuminated by the light on the pole directly in front of its fender. The snow on the front windshield and hood was sharp and clear, and letters, written by a human finger, stood out starkly.

Lois stopped, carefully examining the unmarked snow all around the vehicle. The message could not have been written more than a few minutes before, for they were just now beginning to fill with a light coating of flakes.

"Farewell. I resume my vigil. Tell your flying friend, do not forget."

The message was unsigned, but on the hood, directly beneath the message, lay a familiar silver chain with its little, silver crucifix.

**********

Clark looked wordlessly at the message and the expanse of unmarked snow all around the Cherokee.

While he had stood in the crypt, shielding Al and Lois from the danger of flying bullets, the same phenomenon that had occurred when he had looked through the bathroom door in the vacation cottage had been apparent. In the dim illumination of the penlight held by Bill Church Jr, he had seen the four men, but of the dark man there had been no sign, except for the odd dance they seemed to perform on the stone floor of the tunnel. The only conclusion he had been able to draw from that had been as much of a blow to his view of the world as the discovery that he had come from another planet. It was something that he would have to consider carefully before he made up his mind, but if the ancient, half-blood-spirit medicine man had emerged into the modern world to defend Metropolis -- and Lois -- 748from Intergang ….

He'd seen stranger things. Or almost. A few, anyway. Maybe.

"Somebody has a weird sense of humor," Henderson said flatly.

"Probably," he heard himself say. "But either way, I think we're done with vampires in Metropolis, at least for now. Can we give you a ride anywhere, Bill?"

Henderson glanced again at the letters on the Jeep's hood, scowled deeply, and shook his head. "No. My car's only another block over."

"Come on," Lois said, "we'll give you a ride," She fastened the chain of her pendent around her neck once more. "It's getting darker by the minute."

Clark slid into the passenger seat and fastened his seat belt while Henderson got into the back and Lois took the driver's seat.

He wouldn't forget. And their strange friend had left him with a big decision to make. He had no wish to be a tragic hero, no matter how romantic it sounded, and there was no doubt in his mind that he could wait too long to tell Lois the truth. He didn't want that, either. Maybe it was time for Superman to come clean.

"There's my car," Henderson said, pointing. Lois obligingly pulled to the side of the street.

"Thanks for the lift," Henderson said, opening the door. "Oh, I almost forgot."

"What?" Lois asked.

"Just one more small mystery for the Hottest Team in Town to chew on," Henderson said. "Remember the first body found in the park? The homeless man that was a former NASA engineer?"

"What about him?"

"He's disappeared."

"What?"

"The body was scheduled for cremation, but it vanished from the morgue two days after he was found."

"Two days?"

"Well," Henderson amended, "it might have been the next day, but nobody checked until the next morning. Maybe Intergang goes in for body snatching."

"Yuck," Lois said. "I wouldn't put it past them."

"Just thought I'd let you know," Henderson said mildly. "If you happen to figure it out, you'll save the Metro PD a minor headache."

"Is that why you told us?" Lois demanded.

Henderson grinned sardonically, but didn't answer. "Thanks for the ride," he said, stepping out of the Jeep and shutting the door with a decisive slam.

"Every time I start to like him, he pulls something like that," Lois said, sounding half annoyed and half amused to Clark's experienced ear.

"You do the same to him," he said, wondering if he was inserting his foot into his mouth.

"Oh, I know," Lois said, dismissing the matter. "Do you think there's anything to it?"

"Probably not," Clark said. "Of course, there's the old legend about the victims of vampires rising from the dead to stalk the living."

"Not again," Lois said, throwing him a half-exasperated look. "Besides, nobody mentioned that in the legend of the blood spirits."

"That's true," Clark agreed. "But we don't know it doesn't work that way."

Lois turned in the direction of Philippe's Pizza Grotto. "I've had enough of vampires," she stated flatly. "I don't want to hear anything more about them. Got it, Kent?"

"Yes ma'am," Clark said obediently. "No more vampires in Metropolis."

"If they know what's good for them," Lois added.

Slowly, the silver Cherokee bearing Lois and Clark moved down the street in the gathering dusk, toward the main drag.

It was still snowing.

**********

Epilogue

Bobby Bigmouth glanced casually at the glowing dial of his watch, which informed him that it was quarter to eight. He was supposed to be at the homeless shelter at eight-thirty, but with the heavy snow falling, nobody would mind if he was a little early. Besides, Bibbo always had some kind of snacks set out for his helpers, and Bobby was anxious to get out of the cold.

So, apparently, were quite a few others. It looked as if a large fraction of Metropolis's homeless population had already arrived, he noted, stepping through the rickety wooden door and pushing through the shield of blankets that had been hung in front of the entranceway to block drafts, into the back room of Bibbo's. The rough but well-intentioned owner, for several years now, had turned his large back storeroom into a place to sleep for those who had arrived too late to find a bed at the more formal homeless establishments about the city. Some officious meddler had reported the situation last year and the Department of Public Health had arrived to shut down the impromptu homeless shelter. A homeless man had subsequently frozen to death in an alley, having been denied a cot due to lack of space. It had been Lois Lane who reported the disgraceful indifference of the city leaders to the situation. That had been followed by an outcry from the ordinary citizens of the city, who apparently had the common sense to understand that it was somewhat less healthy to die huddled outside in a freezing alley at night than it was to sleep wrapped in a blanket on the floor of a warm Suicide Slum dive, and the red-faced authorities had been forced to back down. Somehow, the situation had not arisen this year.

Bobby had to admire Lois, the way she stood up to the stuffed shirts that ran the city. It couldn't make her very popular with them; that was certain, but it never seemed to stop her, and now that Kent was working with her, Bobby was willing to bet the Hottest Team in Town scared the pants off a lot of the more corrupt leaders of the city. Look at how she and Kent had taken care of the Cost Mart smuggling thing. The police might have made the bust, but Bobby knew who had started it. And they had turned up that Native American crypt under the Cost Mart parking lot, too. He hoped that the vampire business was finished now, but the story still didn't explain what had happened to Manny, and that bothered him.

It had been just before dawn when Manny had burst into the homeless shelter across town where Bobby had been working that night, out of breath and scared out of his wits, gasping out the story of the nameless black thing that had swooped down from above. He'd stayed inside until well after the morning sun had illuminated the city, and then ventured out to his usual haunts. Bobby had advised him to get under cover before sunset, but apparently he hadn't made it, for his body had been found in Centennial Park the next day, the first victim of the "vampire."

Bobby fingered the crucifix he wore under his shirt. The people he associated with would probably razz him if they found out about it. It was pretty well established that the murders had been the work of the smugglers who had used Cost Mart as their base of operations, which, Bobby knew, meant Intergang, but he couldn't quite convince himself that they had been responsible for Manny's death. Why should Intergang kill Manny, who had no connection to their organization at all? Besides, as far as Bobby knew, the only man who could fly was Superman, who wouldn't kill anyone, not even bad guys. Yet Manny, and later Lois, herself, had seen whatever it was, and it had probably killed the two Intergang thugs who'd tried to kidnap Lois.

Something still didn't add up, and Bobby hadn't been able to make sense of it at all.

It made him unhappy.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Bigmouth." The voice held an accent Bobby didn't recognize, and he turned to see a short, brown-skinned man standing beside him, holding the arm of another man who was bundled in a heavy coat.

"Yeah?"

Something about the stranger made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle slightly, but the man gave him a faint, pleasant smile, showing a glimpse of gleaming white teeth. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and did not appear to be in the least uncomfortable in the temperature of the room, which, although considerably warmer than the outer air, still was cool enough that Bobby had no immediate wish to shed his coat.

"I am told that you are a good friend of my companion. I would like to leave him with you until he recovers. It is quite cold outside."

Bobby glanced at the other man, and then looked more closely. Wrapped in the ragged but warm clothing, with a muffler wound around his neck and lower face, he had an unnerving resemblance to Manny. He glanced back at the dark man who had spoken to him, only to find that he had vanished.

"Come on, pal, let's see if Bibbo's got any hot coffee around," Bobby said after a moment. The guy looked as if he really needed to warm up.

The other man blinked at him as if trying to focus his eyes. "Bobby?" he muttered.

Bobby reached out to pull down the muffler, only to find himself staring into the face of Manny, who for a week he had believed to be dead. Very little surprised Bobby anymore, but this was one of the few.

"Manny?" he stuttered.

The former NASA scientist peered hazily at him, looking as confused as Bobby felt. After a moment, the snitch managed to get hold of himself and get his mind back on what needed to be done.

"Come on, Manny," he said, matter-of-factly, "let's go get you some coffee."

**********

It was done, and he was very tired.

The death of the homeless man was an error that could not be left to stand, no matter the cost. It had been very long ago that his power had been utilized in such a way and the skills of his profession had their price. It would require much rest and sleep to recover his strength and power, but there had been no choice.

He who had been Night Eagle soared through the night over the great city that had taken the place of the land that he had once known.

His new place of concealment lay beneath it: a set of empty, long-abandoned rooms that were tucked away in a hidden corner of the great system of tunnels that honeycombed the ground. Through them, great vehicles ran on rails, bearing thousands of people to their destinations, day and night, but the tiny corner was cleverly concealed and its chances of discovery were slim.

He had again defended the land to which he was bound, and if the need arose, he could do so again. And one day Laughing Bird would come to him, and the curse would end.

He had done all he could for his land and its people, and the new and worthy friends he had come to know. They called him 'vampire' he thought with grim amusement. How little they knew. If the spirits were kind, perhaps they would never need to know more.

Lois Lane's spirit was so like that of his Laughing Bird that they could have been sisters. He could not have refused to help her when the need arose. For a brief instant he wished that she had indeed been the one for which he waited, but she was tied to the other, the man called Superman, who worked beside her in hidden guise. Another guardian of the city of Metropolis. Perhaps Clark Kent would take his advice before it was too late.

Silently, the dark man landed near one of the entrances to his hidden lair. It would be dark and quiet once more, and he could rest.

He was content.

The End

The following story –

“Under the Spotlight”

by – KatherineKent

was Nominated in the:

Best Mid-Length Stories,

and

Best New Author

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Under the Spotlight

Christmas fic for 2013. Set in an alt universe in which Clark revealed himself to the world at 18 years old and is the most famous man/celebrity in the world. Lois Lane is the most famous/glamorous News discussion/talk-show host. What will happen when Superman is a guest on her show.

I've posted two other Christmas fics in the last few weeks but this one is brand new for this year.

Disclaimer: Superman, Clark Kent, Lois Lane and all other character and place names are owned by DC and/or Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. I own nothing ... except my fantasies -- which frequently include Clark/Superman.

_____________

Under the Spotlight

"Welcome, ladies and gentleman. Tonight on Under the Spotlight we continue our series looking at the forgotten people in society. Outcasts, rejects, unwanted and despised, we all know they exist, we all sympathise with their plight, but then we all walk past them and pretend they don’t exist when the time comes to do something about it.

"Tonight is the turn of the most vulnerable of all: Children. Or more specifically, orphans.

"We have with us the director of Metropolis Coates Orphanage; Mr Geoffrey Holmes." The sparkling Christmas lights which framed the faux door on the set blinked on and a middle-aged, short rotund, jolly looking man stepped through to the sound of his name. "The Mayor: Frank Berkowitz". Another man, shorter than the first but a little younger looking, entered the set through the open stage door, the light blinding his eyes momentarily as they adjusted. "Senator Jones, who is currently working on passing a bill to make adoption much quicker and easier." A tall, slender extremely attractive woman entered the stage and smiled. "Our own favourite son made good: Lex Luthor." The next guest, tall and impeccably dressed, strode through the door with a wide smile already plastered on his face. "And finally, for the very first time on this show, the Man of Steel himself, Superman: Mr Clark Kent."

The applause coming from the studio audience was quite resounding; louder than ever before and she had been hosting this show for four years. A few cheers and whistles could also be heard. Lois hastily suppressed a shocked smile knowing that she was still live on camera after giving her opening lines. There was only one person that these unexpected calls of appreciation could be for … and Lois could not fault anyone for their desire to make that appreciation known.

She turned to watch as the final guest appeared through the flimsy, pretend door. Her heart skipped about widely. It had been years since she'd suffered from stage fright; nerves before going on set, terror of getting all muddled up live on television. When the handsome, casually dressed, well-built guest turned to the audience and smiled, showing his perfect white teeth, the gleam in his eyes, Lois suspected it wasn't stage fright causing her heart to pound. When he lifted his hand and waved in a most natural, friendly … and slightly shy manner, she knew it wasn’t stage fright.

He's not gorgeous, not at all, she stubbornly repeated to herself before striding over the set, stepping up onto the slightly raised platform, and taking her seat in the compère’s chair just as her final guest seated himself. She was on the left hand side of the stage. A short glass coffee table was central, and to the right - her left - were the guests, seated in the order they entered. This placed … him - Superman … furthest away from her, on the very right of all the guests, from the view point of the audience. When the light above camera one switched green she turned and spoke directly into it.

"As usual we'll be taking your questions. If you wish to pose any to our guests then please phone or e-mail and when we come back in the second half we will see how well they do. I know, from previous experience, that your questions can sometimes be more direct, more personal and even more difficult than mine." She paused and raised her eyebrows. "And I was called 'Mad Dog Lane' in my college years as I'm sure you all know."

The audience laughed along with Lois and she settled back into her chair and turned her attention to her guests.

"So, first of all, Mr Luthor and Mr Kent. You two are actually orphans yourself." She directed her gaze to the two men at the far end of the seated line. More specifically to the one whom she had a hidden agenda for tonight.

"Yes, that's correct Ms Lane … " began Lex Luthor in a quick rush of words. He leaned himself forwards and rested his elbows on his knees. His mouth was open to continue when Lois spoke over the top of him, completely brushing him off.

"In fact when you first came out to the world, Mr Kent - I presume you'd prefer to be called Mr Kent rather than Superman based on how you are dressed?" Lois raised an eyebrow and when there was an answering nod she continued, "… you revealed to the world that you were actually an orphan twice over."

The handsome man, giving Lois his full attention, smiled and blinked a few times while glancing down at his hands before looking back up and replying. "Yes. When I decided to go public at eighteen I told the world that I lost my Kryptonian parents when Krypton exploded but then was lucky to be found by a childless Kansas couple. At the age of ten I was orphaned again when they died in a car crash."

"And what happened to you after that?" Lois never wavered in her attention on the man sat opposite. Every word he said, every move he made would contribute to her personal plan: the plan which included her heart … and this man.

"I went through the foster system. I had a few different foster families. Mostly they were excellent role models, just as my parents had been before."

"Did you ever spend time in an orphanage?"

"No, I was always placed in a foster home."

"Mr Luthor." Lois turned her attention and held back a gasp when she saw the anger behind his eyes. Clearly not happy that I cut him off before. But he has to understand that he's not the most important or interesting guest on the show. "What age were you when you were orphaned?"

"Call me Lex, please," came the reply. Lois immediately increased her internal alert at the smoothness of his tone.

"Lex, then," she acquiesced. Her job as host was a delicate balance of entertainment, friendliness, interviewer and interrogator and this was the time to play friendly.

His smile was both triumphant and calculating "Fourteen. I lost both of my parents at fourteen."

"And did you go through the foster system? Did you spent time in an orphanage?"

"I was in an orphanage for a short while. I got my lucky break in business pretty quickly and was my own man by the time I was seventeen."

"Mr Luthor … Lex," Lois smiled as affably as she could. "Would this orphanage happen to be the one you now own?"

"You would be correct, Miss Lane. Luthor House for Homeless Children was where I lived for two years, although it was called Green Street Orphanage at the time."

Lois nodded, indicating her complete attention on the conversation. When it was clear that Lex had finished she smiled and then took over again. "Thank you, Lex. We'll come back to the subject of Luthor House later, but now, Senator Jones?" She turned to the beautiful lady next to Lex. "What's your story. Why are you here?"

"Well, I'm not an orphan like Lex and Superman - I mean Mr Kent - although I did live in the system for most of my childhood. I had foster parents but my mother was still alive."

"And this bill you are attempting to get approved ... would that be anything to do with your childhood?"

"Yes, Ms Lane. The best hope for every child in care is the hope of adoption, the hope of a loving family that can devote themselves to you, and you only. In the foster system and in orphanages, although the adults care, although they want to do their best for the children, they have to divide their time between so many. But, adoption is a difficult, long and complicated process. Did you know that of all the children currently in care only 22% are eligible for adoption? And of that 22% only 5% will actually be adopted?"

The Senator paused. Accustomed as she was to speeches, dealing with the public, setting her words correctly, she knew to take a breath at that moment and let the damning statistic sink in. "For every child adopted there are still another ninety in care. Nineteen of these are eligible for adoption but will miss out for one reason or another."

"That's quite a sobering thought, Senator," Lois volunteered in a quiet, respectful voice. "Do you believe that your mother being alive was a barrier to your adoption possibilities?"

"I do. Those children with a parent still alive are far more likely to be looked over. Prospective parents don't want to risk their hearts when there is a chance that the biological parent will stall the process, make a fuss or even return to claim the child."

"And you are planning to change this." She encouraged the lady to continue.

"I am. This is only one of the many reasons I'm fighting for simpler adoption rules and processes. Adoption is a long and difficult process. If the process were simpler and quicker, then the adoption wouldn't trail on as long giving less chance of disruptions occurring. But more than that, I want to look at the rights of everyone in the process. The rights of the new parents, the rights of the biological parents, and most of all the rights of the child."

"Mr Holmes," Lois turned to the gentleman at the end of her line of guests, the first guest to appear through her door. "What do you think to this proposed legislation? How will it affect you, your job, the orphanage?"

"Well, Ms Lane. I see this as a positive change … if it is approved. I'm extremely hopeful that it would increase those percentages that Senator Jones mentioned … in the correct direction. Seeing more children in stable, loving homes; knowing that protection is in place for them also. It would be a dream come true."

"Well, Christmas is all about dreams come true," Lois chuckled and leaned forwards towards the orphanage director. "So …" she dropped her smile and looked more pensive. "It must be a difficult job but I would think that there are also very rewarding aspects. What would you say is the most rewarding part?"

"Gosh. That's quite difficult to decide." The slightly plump man, dressed in a jolly Christmas jumper brought one hand up to his mouth. He stroked his chin and 'hmmmed'. "When the kids leave, that's both happy and sad. You fall in love with every child that comes through the door. To have to say goodbye is very hard. But it's also wonderful to know that they are going back home, or going to a new home where they will be cherished, or even that they have grown up enough to make their own way in the world." He brought down his hand. "I don't know whether it's the most rewarding aspect of my job, but …"

As his voice trailed off Lois noticed the murmurs of sympathy and understanding coming quietly from some of her guests and the audience. She brought the attention back to herself and looked into camera one. "So, we've been introduced to all but one of our guests. Each one is involved in the lives of orphans in some way. But the final guest has no direct links to orphanages or orphans. So … why is he on the show, Lois? I hear you ask. Well, I think he may be asking the very same question himself. So, let’s put him out of his misery. Mayor Berkowitz. I invited you on the show tonight so that you could explain why the city of Metropolis has repeatedly declined applications for new orphanages to be built. Instead parking garages, malls and office blocks were approved. I have here" - she reached out to the shin-high clear glass table which gently divided her from her guests and picked up a sheaf of papers - "the paperwork for three separate applications made via the Superman Foundation to build orphanages over the last four years. In each case they were passed over for unnecessary frivolities."

"Ms Lane," the shocked Mayor retorted. "I would have you know that I am not personally responsible for every decision made by the city council just because I am Mayor. Building permits are discussed and approved by a separate entity to my own office. If you have a complaint then I would ask that you direct it to the right people. And, I would also like to say, it is your own opinion that these parking garages and office blocks are 'unnecessary frivolities' not fact. Have you taken to sensationalising the news now? I thought you were more respectable than that." His offense at her comments was quite clear.

"Mayor Berkowitz, this is an entertainment show as well as a news show. There is a certain amount of 'sensationalism' expected. But, believe me, I would never state, or imply, anything that doesn't have a basis in fact." She glared at her prey fully confident in her ability to navigate this show in the direction she wanted. "Would you like me to list the number of parking garages we already have? How many parking spaces? How many shopping malls? Office blocks. I can give you statistics. Also, I do understand that you are not personally involved in these decisions, but as the elected Mayor, you are the representative, the figure-head of the city."

"I am, and if you wish me to continue in that role then I would ask that you refrain from further damaging remarks. You are correct that I am a figure-head, and in that role I … I feel responsible for my city. If you truly feel that an injustice has been done then please present the evidence. But I would ask that you do it through more official channels please." The Mayor's voice pleaded but was filled with sincerity.

"I may very well do that," she countered and then abruptly turned to her next victim.

"And you, Mr Luthor!" Lois turned back to the impeccably dressed man she had inadvertently offended earlier. "Coincidentally, each of the approved businesses was a subsidiary of LexCorp. It seems you had a wonderful run of luck there with your building permits." She raised her eyebrow and waited for him to respond.

"Ms Lane … Lois," Lex supplicated. "LexCorp, and its many subsidiaries, constantly have applications in for planning, development, proposals, grants and much more. To focus in on only three of them and try to claim conspiracy is quite irresponsible."

"Mr Luthor." Lois refused to call him Lex, although she had acquiesced at the beginning of the show just to settle him. "I mentioned no such thing as conspiracy. I believe the word I used was coincidence." She tilted her head to one side and smiled.

A chuckle from the audience rippled out onto the stage and Lois turned to acknowledge them.

"So, would you say that you are … concerned … for the welfare of the city's orphans then, Mr Luthor? I mean, you couldn't possibly have known that your applications would deprive these children of a safe home, could you?" Lois smiled brightly at the end of her speech.

"I assure you, Ms Lane. I contribute greatly to increasing the standards of living for orphans in this city. As you know I personally fund the Luthor House for Homeless Children. Why, last month the proceeds of my White Orchid Ball were all funnelled in that direction."

Lois smiled again and leaned back, putting one leg over the other. She crossed her arms. "But, Luthor House is the only orphanage you fund. The Superman Foundation" - she tilted her head to the quiet, handsome gentleman to Lex's left - "take applications for funding from every other orphanage in Metropolis and further afield." She turned to address Superman directly. "Isn't that true, Mr Kent."

"Uh," he coughed and shifted in his chair to sit up straighter. "That's true. The Superman Foundation is basically a grant funding system. Anyone can apply for funds and, hopefully be approved. Applications from orphanages are a reasonable percentage and are pretty constant." The smile which came over his face as he looked into her eyes made the world fade away.

Get a grip Lois. This is not the time to regress to your teenage crush. Tonight is about extinguishing that crush.

"So you … that's the plural 'you' referring to the Foundation … do not limit your funding, whereas Mr Luthor has quite clearly chosen exactly who is worthy to benefit from his money."

"Uh, no. Our limits are very few, and mostly government rule based."

"But," she paused and frowned, as if in sudden confusion. "Superman is clearly associated with Mr Holmes and the Coates Orphanage. You visit every Christmas, bring gifts, decorate the tree. It's a well-documented tradition. In fact the media have, in recent years, been banned due to the intrusion they caused when trying to film three years ago. Wouldn't that be considered favouritism by you Mr Kent. I am not aware that you visit any other orphanages."

"Ms Lane," he leaned forwards. "I would love to visit every orphanage in the city, but I don't have the time. Plus … I have actually been turned away from Mr Luthor's orphanage, but I must make it clear that whomever I chose to spend my time with in no way reflects the status of any grants at the Foundation. I can assure you of that." He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. "Visiting the Coates Orphanage on Christmas Eve. Yes, it has become a tradition. Yes, it is the only orphanage that I do this for, but it is something that I feel I have to do. Something I want to do."

"Tell us about it, Mr Kent." Lois softened her voice and she rested back in her chair again.

He didn't immediately begin to speak. In fact the only sounds to be heard, for a few moments, were the hushed breaths of the audience. He looked down at his clasped hands and smiled then he looked back up to the camera. Directing his comments to camera three, currently facing him, he began to weave a picture.

"It started eight years ago. Coates was the first orphanage to be granted some funding. It was on Christmas Eve. I decided to present the news in person but when I flew overhead I noticed the … " He paused and sighed. His eyes closed for a moment. "The tree was small, the decorations were threadbare, a little girl was crying in the corner of the yard and that's just a portion of what I saw in that moment. My heart broke for all these people. I knew I was bringing great news, but it would mean nothing to the children, and they wouldn't see the benefits for months. So … I flew straight past without landing and …" He stopped again. This time there was a blush on his cheeks. He brought a hand up to his mouth and coughed self-consciously. "I managed to get some donations from nearby shops."

Lois raised her eyebrows in surprise. Playing down his part there. What a simple way to say that Superman turned up and played on the heartstrings of local merchants urging them to give to the orphans down the street.

"I returned an hour later bringing supplies. When I spoke to Geoffrey and gave him the good news about the grant funding he was ecstatic. But when I stopped and helped all the children to decorate the new tree ..." His voice trailed off and he looked over to the man who was sat at the very opposite end of the five guest chairs.

"Superman, you have no idea how much we appreciated that. While we were still decorating the tree you brought the gifts started to arrive. Shopkeepers with arms full of toys, and clothes, and food." There were tears in the jolly man's eyes. "I cried that day. I'm nearly crying now," he chuckled.

"Geoffrey. How many times have I asked you to call me Clark?"

"I … I can't do that. You'll always be Superman to me and the kids."

Clark dropped his head once more and clasped his hands together again. "The simple joy that I brought to the children, the joy it brought to me …" He looked up at the camera. "That's why I return every year."

The studio was silent. Lois didn't know what to say or how to get the show back under her control. And she didn't know if she even wanted to. This man was … Super. Quite clearly his nine years as the world's most famous man had given him plenty of experience with the media. He had a way of weaving a story, of capturing your concentration. She truly felt as if she'd been there, on that first day. "Uh," her voice failed her. She noticed the light on camera number one turn green as the number three light turned red. Immediately shocked back into action she blurted out the first thought in her head. "Can you come decorate my apartment this year?"

The laugh which resounded all around the studio finally brought her fully alert. "So, actually, even though it is the same orphanage every year … seeming like favouritism … in fact, it's more of a symbol. A symbol of what the Superman Foundation can do for whoever applies. Am I right, Mr Kent." Please, please let my years of experience be riding me through this superbly? she prayed. Over the years she had met and challenged many people on this show. Nerves were a constant companion, but had long since been defeated and put in place. Whatever happened on show Lois was always in control. But, for some unknown reason, she worried that the internal war between her heart and mind was showing externally. What if the millions watching live on television, not to mention those who would catch up later … what if they could see that she had a serious crush on this man?

"I guess so."

Lois had to bite the inside of her cheek when he smiled again. I thought repeated doses of something was supposed to immunise against future attack. These smiles are just getting more deadly instead.

"Well, I think that's a good place for a break. We'll be back after this."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clark felt the moment the cameras stopped rolling. Over the years he'd learned to recognise the hum of a rolling camera. The buzz was almost constant in his life, along with the click of the other type of camera. When he'd decided, nine years ago, to let the world know he existed, to keep himself safe by putting himself out into the public leaving the government no way to capture him without the whole world knowing, he never realised what it would really mean to his privacy. He had none, or very little. He was the most famous man on the planet. Realistically he had known at eighteen that people would be fascinated with him. He even recognised that he was reasonably good-looking. Combine the two … he knew that the press would follow him around. But nine years later it had only gotten worse. The fascination continued even though he'd repeatedly told his fantastic story. There should be nothing new for the fans any more. But they still craved every morsel through the media. And the adoration, by practically every girl and woman he met, twisted at his gut.

Glancing across at the host of this show he smirked inwardly. There's one woman that I wouldn't mind gazing at me adoringly. He watched as she leaned over the side of her chair to listen to the director whispering in her ear. She nodded and then he ran off. The horror and embarrassment when women throw themselves at me … offer … themselves to me. He shuddered internally. If she were to … offer herself to me ... The shudder turned to a shiver up his spine.

If he was every woman's fantasy, then Lois Lane … she was every intelligent man's fantasy. And he was definitely an intelligent man.

Under the Spotlight was required viewing in his mind, and had been for many years. When he'd received the invitation to be a guest his immediate feeling had been elation. Although they were both famous they had never crossed paths. It was his opportunity to meet her, to see if she lived up to his … crush. Possibly even to let the flame blow out and move on. But his assistant cautioned him. Lois Lane was well known for leading guests into a false sense of security with her affable charm, and then blindsiding them with something she wanted to expose. He'd argued that he had nothing to conceal, nothing to worry about. Her reply had been a simple 'hmmmn'. Not that she believed there was anything for Lois Lane to uncover, just that Clark was still too naive for his own good, especially in the light of his high-profile life.

As the director came back and handed some slips of paper to Lois he smiled. She'd done exactly what his assistant predicted, only to Lex Luthor. Admittedly she'd also challenged him, to a small extent, about his visits to the orphanage. Possibly that would be the worst of it.

Clark watched as Lois read through the white slips then crumpled them and slid them down the side of the chair, out of sight. She lifted her head and turned to her guests. "Just one minute now," she smiled and his eyes met hers. It was as if a vice were crushing his heart. Clark suspected that his crush on this famous woman would be gone by the time the programme ended. Gone because ‘crush' would be an inadequate word to use from this moment on.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Welcome back to Under the Spotlight. We have a few questions from the public that I'll be asking in this section. One of our guests tonight is the youngest Senator this decade. Senator Jones, can we return for a while to the topic of your bill? Sally Jackson from Seattle has brought up a point that was also worrying me. While the idea of a quicker and simpler process might increase, in a positive direction, those statistics you mentioned earlier, isn't there a greater chance of mistakes? Surely the number of safety guards, and time to check the prospective parents against them, would decrease."

"No. I'm determined that within this bill will be provision for easier and quicker access to exactly the same information and resources that can determine the suitability of parents." Senator Jones leaned forwards and gestured with her hands. "Although it could take time to start with I want there to be central access points to all the different databases countrywide meaning that information can be checked, cross referenced, and double checked at the push of a button rather than five different social workers having to contact each other on numerous occasions."

"All right, you are ready to safeguard the children from unsuitable parents, even with the shorter and simpler system, but what about the opposite. What about the natural parents that may be hoping for their child to come home. A quicker adoption might mean that they miss out on this chance, not having got their lives turned around in time. And the child would miss out on growing up with their biological family."

"Any parent who is desperately hoping for their child to come home will most probably not have put them up for adoption. I said before that only 22% of children in care are eligible for adoption. That leaves 78% who are in foster care or orphanages who are not allowed to be adopted, for whatever reason. Some of them will be because the parent has not given up on the hope of their child coming home. But …" sighing, the Senator nodded in acknowledgement of Lois' actual question, "there will be times when a parent does both; hopes for their child to come home, yet realises the small chance of it ever happening. They may allow their child into the adoption process. What would happen in this case? Yes. The quicker system would, by default, give shorter deadlines to biological parents. While this cannot be helped I am hoping that the legislation would clearly state the legal rights of all parties involved. And these rights extend throughout the adoption process and even afterwards."

"Mmmm," Lois nodded. "You did mention that before. You seem to have covered all angles with this bill. And it's this coming Tuesday, I believe, when it is being debated?"

"Yes."

"Well, I wish you the best of luck then."

"Thank you." The Senator smiled and turned to the other guests who all seemed to be whispering their words of hope too.

Lois looked around and considered who to speak to next. A quick inventory of the points she wished to cover made her realise that they were all 'attacks' so she deftly inserted a light-hearted section and turned to the two guests immediately to her left. "Mayor Berkowitz. I think the audience would like hear about what you and Mr Holmes discussed during the commercial break. Would you be willing to share?"

The short man looked startled and almost a little scared for a moment. He raised a hand and scratched his cheek and then his mouth began to turn up. The smile on his face was quite clearly an embarrassed smile. "Well, Ms Lane, Geoffrey here mentioned that all his workers are running around Metropolis Centennial Park on New Year’s Day dressed as Santa or an Elf. It's an open event but obviously they are running in aid of the orphanage." He shifted in his seat. "Um. I … I asked if anyone could take part with them …" He looked over at the chubby older man who was grinning back like a little child. "It seems that I'm going to be joining."

Lois raised her eyebrows and a smattering of applause trickled from the audience. The Mayor sat himself up much straighter and lost his embarrassed look.

"I'm announcing my intention right now, that I aim to raise five thousand dollars in sponsorship. All for Metropolis Coates Orphanage." He had a proud look on his face as the tiny applause from before grew into a resounding cheer. Lois knew that he was serious. This was also no re-election stunt. Mayor Frank Berkowitz was well loved and only just recently elected in anyway. Even when she'd challenged him earlier on the bad permit decisions she'd known it wasn't his fault personally.

"Well … Mayor. Frank. I will pledge, right now. You can count on my support." Lois smiled. It was always nice to be surprised on her own show, and also to be the bearer of a little scoop of news. The topics she covered were usually already out in the general public awareness. "I just hope, for your sake, that it isn't snowing." The applause turned into laughter.

Lois turned to the audience and waited for the sound to die away. "So," she looked into camera two. "Anyone else willing to volunteer themselves?" She turned away from the camera back to her guests. "Senator?"

The lady laughed. "Unfortunately I have to be in Washington." Lois nodded.

"Superman?" she asked, teasingly.

He laughed too and looked down at his clasped hands. That seemed to be his natural reaction when embarrassed. "I don't think it would be a fair contest if I took part, Ms Lane."

"No I guess not," she smirked.

"Mr Luthor?" Lois turned to the other guest. She could feel the hostility radiating from him. Challenging him in such a way, on live television has possibly been a mistake, but she never backed down from a challenge. She'd already pointed out that he only ever supported his own orphanage. And … she couldn't think of a more unlikely person to see in a Santa suit … or running for charity. But … maybe she'd get another surprise.

"Unfortunately, I have an appointment in Milan on New Year's Day, so I will not be in Metropolis. I am most distressed at that. It would have been a wonderful opportunity." His smile and tilt of the head probably came across to the viewers and audience as caring and charming, but Lois had become more and more concerned by this guest as the evening wore on and she saw his acting for exactly what it was: façade. All a carefully woven façade. She was also pretty sure that the appointment in Milan was fake. Or at least, it did not yet exist. Most assuredly an extremely competent assistant would have one booked by the end of the evening leaving Lex seeming to be legitimate and truthful. All those thoughts raced around in her head. They dove around in her chest and stomach until she could no longer hold in her distaste.

"So, Mr Luthor, are you saying that, if you were in Metropolis you would take part in the run? Would help to help raise money for the Coates Orphanage? Because as we've already established, you only ever seem to support Luthor House."

"Touché. I think you have assessed me pretty accurately, Ms Lane. I have no need to take part in a 'fun run' to raise any money. I am willing to donate significant amounts at the stroke of a pen." His tone was warm and genial but Lois imagined a more lofty undertone and it turned her stomach once more. She also noticed that he had only answered the first half of her question.

"Actually. As well as limiting your giving, in terms of orphanages, to only Luthor House, you … as trustee … limit the receiving also. Luthor House, since you took over, has never applied for a grant or funding from any other source." Lois found this very unsettling and knew she was not managing to keep this out of her voice.

"And why should they need to?" Mr Luthor widened his eyes in horror. "Why, when I can supply everything they need. It's absurd."

"And speaking of limitations on funding … Mr Kent." Lois turned abruptly to the gentleman sat to the far side. He gulped as their eyes met. "The Superman Foundation, although it gives out many grants, the guidelines and rules are very strict. Mr Charleston from New York points out that these people need help. Why are you restricting the flow of money out to the community?"

"Ms Lane, any rules and regulations we follow are not of our own making. Believe me, if we could give out money to every needy person that came to the door we would do so, in a flash. But the government would audit us constantly, probably find some way to file charges of fraud or avoidance of taxes, or something, and then eventually shut us down altogether. We follow these rules, the rules that you claim are limiting funds, for the sole purpose of keeping those funds available to the world."

"Well, that may be, but even so, applications languish for months. I'm also lead to believe that some of the rules you follow are of your own making. Surely you can see how that delays and limits your funding?

"You could be right. I would expect that, as well as following government regulations, we also impose some guidance of our own, but I would hesitate to ask for these extra rules to be removed. If we were to walk the government line so closely what would stop us from crossing, if by accident, on any occasion. No, we will not allow ourselves anywhere close to dubious territory, or we deny every future applicant by the very fact that we no longer exist."

"Then perhaps you can assure you me that the reason this application"- Lois flung a brown cardboard folder over the glass coffee table - "has been in your system for nine months is quite innocent, and you are only following protocol." She watched as Mr Kent leaned forwards and slid the folder over. As he picked it up she took a deep breath for courage. This was her chance to show herself that Superman was not as Super as her heart believed. This was the moment she took on the Man of Steel. "Little Surrey Orphanage in Trenton, New Jersey, have heard nothing from your foundation, Mr Kent, since their simple application for funding to repair their leaking roof. In the ten months since part of their roof collapsed one quarter of the children have been sleeping doubled up."

Lois' heart pounded violently as she watched him open the folder and read. Within seconds he closed the folder and placed it back down. "Ms Lane, I …" He gulped and looked away. Her stomach lurched when she saw the sorrow, undisguised in his eyes. "I cannot give you an answer about any particular application in the system. I assure you, from quick perusal of the file, that there is nothing of note that should have delayed it and I will initiate an investigation into this particular situation the first moment possible." He nodded, but Lois noticed a tightness in his neck. He didn't smile as genuinely as before and he didn't look as relaxed in his chair.

"Well, Mr Kent. I look forward to hearing about a resolution then," she narrowed her eyes and attempted to sound victorious, but she worried that she came across as suddenly adoring. "Mr Holmes, have you ever had to deal with anything like that? I would guess that building maintenance is a constant drain on your resources. Has there ever been a time when your resources didn't cover your … needs?"

"Thankfully, since I've been at Coates Orphanage, we have been well funded. Oh, don't take that to mean that we are comfortable. It takes a lot of work, dedication, fundraising and well received donations to be where we are. Without the fundraising applications that have, thankfully, been approved over the last few years then we could quite easily be in the same position. We did have a plumbing disaster last year, but had been anticipating it and already had approval for the funds required to replace the pipework." The rotund gentleman sighed and brought a hand up to scratch his forehead. "I do remember hearing about a situation from before I was director, though. There was a significant amount of time spent replacing rotten floorboards years ago and the children had to double up, just as those in New Jersey are having to at the moment."

"I would guess that it makes a difficult situation even harder," Lois spoke in sympathy. "Do you have a councillor … psychiatrists … who help with bringing up the children?"

"Yes. Every permanent staff member is trained in at least basic counselling and we have doctors, nurses, psychologists, and more on our books. They pay regular visits and are part of the children's lives. Unfortunately these are often negative situations so we also try to integrate them in a positive way: reinforce positive relationships too."

The Mayor suddenly sat forwards. "That's a wonderful idea, Geoffrey. But doesn't that put greater strain on your resources?" He seemed genuinely concerned.

"We do have financial provision for medical treatment for the children, but actually a lot of these people volunteer a certain percentage of their time. We are extremely grateful." His smile was wide and his eyes glistened. "In fact I would like to take the opportunity to thank the man who has been our paediatrician for the last twenty five years. Dr Stuart has been looking after our kids for a quarter of a century, visiting on Saturdays for 'games day' as well as regular clinic during the week."

"Aww," Lois drew the cameras back onto her. "Mr Holmes, that's lovely. That someone could give of himself so freely for so many years. It take a special kind of person to do that." Murmurs of agreement from the audience along with her guests brought out a smile. She glanced along the line of guests until she made it to the end … and to … him. Definitely a special kind of man to give time, to give his talents, to give … himself … to the world. "And on that note it is time for another break. We'll be back again after this."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Amanda!" Clark called out loudly as he landed abruptly in the main office at the Superman Foundation.

"Yes, Clark. I saw." She came scurrying out of an office to the right with a pile of papers in her arms. "I've been watching the show and when she blindsided you I immediately came down here to start looking."

Clark let out a breath. He didn't need to explain. He only had two minutes and she was already on it. Amanda Cox was his personal assistant and she was the most efficient woman he had ever met. He hated having a personal assistant, he didn't really have a 'job' at the Foundation, he was just the figure head, but it was unfortunately a necessity. The number of appointments he had to juggle, along with his spur-of-the-moment rescues, meant that his life required a lot of administrative help. But if he had to bear this, then there was no one better than Amanda to have the job. "Any luck?" he asked.

"Yes. The application was assigned to Rose Delgado when we received it nine months ago."

"But Rose …" he stuttered

"Yes, Clark," came her soft reply.

"Then what happened? I thought her portfolio would have been distributed out."

"It was. All the paperwork should have been handed over, but I've just checked and her filing cabinet was never emptied. I've just been in there and pulled all these out." She lifted her arms indicating the pile of papers.

Clark sped over and took the pile from her. Within four seconds they were in neat piles on the desk and Clark had one folder still in his hand. "It's here, Amanda. It seems that the file was … incorrectly filed, and because Rose …" he sighed again and dropped his head. "Amanda," he lifted his head again. "This pile is filing for closed applications, this is an expenses claim she never placed with HR, this pile is to go to finance and"- he picked up another file like the one he still held in his hand -"this is another application that looks to have missed being passed on. Please deal with these tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." Amanda nodded. Clark knew that he'd been talking in his Superman voice. She only ever called him sir in serious situations.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Welcome back. While we were off air one of my guests disappeared for a minute." Lois turned to the man who had been the most troublesome guest ever. Oh, he wasn't troublesome as a guest; he was perfect, but her heart, her mind, her equilibrium were all troubled. "Superman, did you fly off for a rescue?" she chuckled hoping for a light moment. Much of part one and part two had been heavy attacks against her guests, in fact only Mr Holmes had got off without even one tiny accusation. Even Senator Jones had needed to rebuff accusations that her short, simple bill might have detrimental effects.

"Uh no, Ms Lane." He shook his head. "I promised myself that only a real emergency would draw me away from you tonight." His eyes caught hers and he smiled. She imagined a blush on his cheeks, but that would only have been wishful thinking. Yet, still her heart raced again. His words made it seem as if she were the most important thing in the world to him this evening.

"Really. Then where did you go?" She was actually a little curious now.

"I …" He shifted in his seat. Now he really did look to be blushing. "I returned to the Foundation and have an answer for you about Little Surrey Orphanage." Murmurs around the audience caught her attention. Were they as shocked as her? Even though the world had lived with Superman and all his powers for just short of a decade there was still something awe inspiring to think that this man really existed. It blew her mind away, to realise that he could make it across the city and back in just the time of a commercial break.

"You do?" she breathed out, almost a whisper.

"Yes. The application has been approved."

Lois tilted her head and wrinkled her brow. "That's quite convenient." Her tone changed abruptly. All evening she'd been searching for a way to discredit this man. Not to discredit him to the world, she truly believed he was a good man. She needed to discredit him to her heart. She needed to get rid of this crush which had been with her since her teenage years, since he revealed himself. The only way she could do that was to prove that he had flaws, made mistakes, didn't always get everything right. And now it seemed he actually might be manipulating the system. It really was convenient that the application had been approved only today. He was clearly lying to avoid any negative press about the languishing application. It was at that moment when she realised that she actually didn't want to discredit him. She didn't want to lose the hero that resided in her heart. But she had, she'd knocked him off the pedestal. Overwhelming sadness swept through her body and she had to gulp deeply to hold back a sob.

"Not at all, Ms Lane. There was nothing convenient about this situation at all." He looked down at his linked hands, voice full of bleak emotion. "This funding application was assigned to one of our workers the day it arrived. She began work on it, preliminary work, and then she …" He paused and unlinked his hands then looked up. "She has been on long term sick ever since. When I arrived at the Foundation a few minutes ago I was passed the application by my assistant. Thankfully she was watching the show and went looking the moment you brought the subject up, Ms Lane." He turned to look straight at her and acknowledge her part in this.

"I'm sorry to hear about the worker on long term sick, but surely her work load was passed on." Okay, here comes the claim that it was conveniently approved only this morning. The anger in her heart was unbearable. She was angry at him for disappointing her, for no longer being the perfect hero. She was angry at herself for badgering him into this - leading to that very loss of her hero.

"It was passed on," he acknowledged, "but it seems that some paperwork was filed incorrectly. Had the original worker returned to work in just a few days I'm convinced that she would have realised almost immediately, but the new case worker …"

"Didn't know anything was missing?" Lois interpreted what he wasn't saying in amongst the words he was speaking. The application had been lost. "But this application has been nine months. How long is this long-term sick?"

"I would prefer not to talk about that on live television. The woman in question is seriously ill. There are delicate and difficult emotions involved and family members that …" He sighed and she registered the glistening in his eyes. "This worker, she was dedicated, lovely, sweet … but she is in hospital now."

Lois felt her heart melting. There was no dissembling, no pretence or 'coincidental' timing. Suddenly he was her hero again. The compassionate yet strong man that was regularly portrayed by the respected media was clearly sat directly across from her. "And the application? What now."

"I have personally approved this application only five minutes ago."

"Well, Mr Kent. I thought you were an advocate of sticking to the rules, otherwise how could you be guaranteed to stay in business, so to speak? Plus I distinctly recall you stating that any favouritism you showed was nothing to do with the Superman Foundation." Though the words exited her mouth with her usual 'Mad-dog' fire she no longer believed them. Nine years of hero-worship, nine years of getting to know this man through his works portrayed the world over, told her exactly why he'd done it, and she knew that it was the only choice he had, the only choice he could live with.

"I think you are twisting my words and my meanings, along with dismissing the fact that different circumstances can lead to entirely different interpretations of a situation. There is no favouritism here. I do not approve applications - although I could if I wished - for the express purpose of avoiding favouritism. In this case I quite clearly have nothing to gain from approving this funding as you yourself are the one who raised the situation, pointing out that they have been overlooked. I feel terrible that this could have happened and am invoking my right to approve. This is a special situation and I do not want these children to wait any longer. In regards to the rules and regulations we need to follow … let me assure you that I read the application and I am confident that they are all fulfilled." His rebuttal of her challenge confirmed her thoughts. He couldn't live with himself if there were people suffering and he had the ability to help.

"You read it? The whole application. And how can you possibly know, in under five minutes, that this application passes all levels of your regulations?" Lois was now fighting against herself. Some part of her consciousness was making one last attempt to prove that this man was not worthy of her crush, her adoration, her heart or of the name Superman.

"Um, Ms Lane," the young Senator spoke up. Lois turned to look at her, trying to control the red fire in her burning cheeks. "He's, well he's Superman." Lois immediately felt the life drain out of her. The Senator was answering. Of course he could do all that in just a commercial break. He was super-fast, he read at super-speed, he had an eidetic memory. She turned to look at him. Part of her brain was expecting to see a triumphant, arrogant, proud look on his face. If she'd had this argument with Lex Luthor then there would be no doubt of what she'd see in his eyes. But the larger part of her knew … was ready … for the sheepish, embarrassed look.

He nodded. "I … I read it at super-speed, Ms Lane. And I am familiar with all our rules. Believe me … they passed." His gentle tone was the final straw. Her heart and mind gave in … became of one thought. I'm in love.

"Ahhh," she floundered. "Th...thank you then, Mr Kent. And the children of Little Surrey Orphanage thank you too." Her voice gained confidence and she continued. "Well, I'm left with only one more question from our viewers." Lois coughed and smiled. "Mrs Treacher of Boston asks, um …" she blushed and grinned. "Superman, would you, rather than Santa, deliver her presents this Christmas? She says she will be waiting at the bottom of the chimney to give you your present in return." Lois pursed her lips then nibbled them before bursting out into laughter along with the audience and all but two of the guests.

Lex quite clearly didn't find it amusing that Mr Kent was so much more famous, sexy, desirable … nice. And, as for Mr Kent - Superman himself - the reason that he wasn't laughing … well that was because he was blushing profusely instead. He clearly didn't realise that he was famous, sexy, desirable and … nice.

When the laughter finally died down Lois looked to camera one and smiled. "So, that's it for tonight. Thanks to all our guests: Mr Holmes." He nodded into camera two. "Mayor Berkowitz." Another guest nodded. "Senator Jones." She smiled and replied a thanks. "Mr Luthor." A stiff nod came from the fourth guest. "And Superman: Mr Clark Kent." The handsome man picked up and hand and shyly waved into the camera. "And next a quick round up of the news for today. Keep watching for News at Ten with Carmen Alvarado and Murray Mindlin."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The lights began to dim and the cameras slowly pulled away. Lois knew that the credits would be rolling up the screen for viewers at home. As she turned to speak to the Coates Orphanage Director to give the impression of gentle conversation to the public, her heart began to race once more. This must be the fifth or sixth time, she thought to herself. This time, rather than the proximity of Clark Kent causing it, it was the thought of him leaving - no more proximity - that suddenly distressed her.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the lights on the cameras go out. She could hear the murmur of the audience as they made their way out of the studio. She breathed a sigh of relief in one moment and then looked over at Clark Kent in the next. He was already standing to his feet. Lois slowly rose along with all the other guests. She watched in growing anticipation as he turned to each of the other guests, shook hands and spoke something encouraging. She couldn't hear the words for the sound of blood rushing through her ears, but she could be pretty certain that his words would be positive. Clark Kent didn't seem to have it in him to be negative. He made his way along the line until finally reaching her.

"Ms Lane," he started and her knees quaked nearly sending her back into her chair.

"I'll, … walk you to your dressing room, Mr Kent, i … if you'd like?" She smiled as confidently as she could. Being in the public eye, on live television, had given her many opportunities to hone her acting skills. But, there was a significant possibility that they had failed her tonight. She’d have to watch a re-run to be certain how she’d come across to the audience.

His answering smile coincided with the stage lights returning to full brightness and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from sighing at him. "Thank you."

Walking away from her other guests without even a simple goodbye she led him in the direction of the dressing rooms. Not that he needed leading. He'd obviously been in the dressing room before the show started. As her high heels clacked on the tile floor backstage she frantically tried to come up with some way to delay the inevitable. Her brain ran over every scenario she could think of from stumbling on her ankle, shouting 'Help Superman!' and demanding he take her to hospital all the way to her favourite fantasy of planting a passionate kiss on his lips.

"Well, here's your dressing room, Mr Kent." She stopped and turned to see him waiting behind her. She felt a wavering smile touch her mouth and she worried that her voice had been just as shaky.

"Thank you, Ms Lane, but … uh … " he looked down at his feet. A half smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "There's nothing that I need in that room. I … uh … should just say goodnight."

"Oh." Lois' heart stopped beating. All the nerves, all the fantasies and dreams of nine years … this was the end of it. He was leaving. "Oh, all right. Goodnight then."

Stood in a bleak grey corridor in the depths of the studio she gulped and looked up into his eyes. The world seemed to fade away and all she could see were the deep, warm eyes that were gazing back at her. Is it just my imagination, or are his eyes a little bright … watery … hopeful … wistful? No doubt that was exactly what he was seeing in hers. After only a moment he blinked and then cleared his throat.

"Well, Ms Lane. Thank you for having me on your show. I'm a big fan and I had a really nice time."

"Me too," she replied dreamily. "Uh," she cleared her throat in an attempt to dispel the mood which had captured her soul. "Yes, well. Thank you for coming on Mr Kent. To have you on Under the Spotlight was a real scoop for me." She smiled.

"If you ever want me on your show again, I'd be more than happy to oblige. Just contact the Foundation."

Lois' mouth dropped open. Again, I might get him on the show again! Suddenly her heart was racing once more. This wasn't the end … or it didn't need to be. All she needed to do was come up with a subject for a future show that would lend itself to having Superman as a guest.

"Well, that's if the city gives me the night off," he continued with a self-deprecating smile.

"Oh, how often does that happen … that you get the night off?" she asked, genuinely intrigued.

"Sometimes," he murmured in reply.

"Liar," she immediately called out, teasing him. Suddenly she knew exactly what he'd meant with the tone in his voice. "You should have said never." His only reply this time was a smile and a sigh. "Then what about tonight?" Her face dropped. "You … you're not even having tonight off, are you? You're off to … to …" - her hand reached out and did a gentle wave -"aren't you?"

"Goodnight, Ms Lane," he nodded his head and turned away. After one step down the corridor he turned back. "It was a pleasure."

Lois watched as he walked down the empty grey corridor. At the end was a fire exit. No leaving by the main exit for Superman: too public. He pushed it open and stepped out into the night. "No, Mr Kent ... the pleasure was all mine." And then, because he truly deserved the name, she continued. "All mine, Superman."

THE END

The following story –

“Waiting in Line”

by – KatherineKent

was Nominated in the:

Best Short Stories,

and

Best New Author

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

Waiting in Line

By KatherineKent <victoria@seekersrest.plus.com>

Rated G

Submitted December 2013

Summary: Clark visits Metropolis for a "Christmas away" with his parents and ends up waiting in line with an annoying girl to see Santa.

Disclaimer: Superman, Clark Kent, Lois Lane and all other character and place names are owned by DC and/or Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. I own nothing ... except my fantasies -- which frequently include Clark/Superman.

***

"Mom, mom," Clark tugged on his mother's arm. "Santa. I wanna see Santa." Martha stopped her walk across the square and looked in the direction that her five year old son was pointing. A large red tent in the centre of the square: or more particularly the sign saying Santa's Grotto, seemed to be the focus of his attention. The line of excited children started just outside the entrance flap and wound around the edge of most of the square. Fraught and overloaded parents supervised their impatient children whilst waiting. Martha's eyes tracked the length of the line and estimated the wait time to be at least twenty minutes and she sighed. Clark deserved the chance to see Santa. He was such a good little boy and he'd trailed around Metropolis with her all day without complaining. She lifted one arm, fully laden with heavy bags, and attempted to read the time on her watch.

"Four thirty," she mumbled.

"Mom, please?" came the voice that tugged at her heart strings.

She looked down into Clark's warm brown eyes. Deep pools that reflected a deep soul: even at five years of age. It made Martha wonder what he remembered of his earlier years: what he thought about during his quiet moments. Did he remember anything of the time before they found him? If he did, would he ever be able to describe it, vocalise it? Or was it too far beyond his understanding. Or perhaps there was *nothing* to remember. As far as Martha and Jonathan were concerned Clark's life had begun the moment they found him.

"Alright, honey. We don't need to meet your father for another hour. I'm sure we can manage it."

"Yay!" he whooped and went running along the line. He followed it round until he made it to the end and then skidded to a stop just behind a blue double buggy and just in front of a girl, almost equal in height to Clark, about to join the line herself. "Come on, mom," he called out as she carefully made her way across the slippery flagstones. How Clark had run all that way, following the curve of the line as well, without slipping was beyond understanding. But then there were many things about Clark that Martha just allowed herself to accept sending up a prayer of deep gratitude that he was just here ... with her and Jonathan. *My son*. She smiled.

"Hey, stupid. That was gonna be my spot."

Clark turned around at the sound of the annoyed girl. "Yeah, well now it's mine. I got here first. You were too slow."

"You don't even have your mom with you yet. You shouldn't be allowed to wait till she gets here." Her childish, superior tone immediately set his nerves on edge.

Clark's eyes widened and he stared incredulously at the rude girl. "My mom is on her way," he bit back. "And I'm old enough to wait in line without her. I'm five."

"Well I'm six, so that makes me older, and definitely in charge, so get to the back buddy."

"Buddy?" Clark laughed. "Where'd you get the idea that I'm your friend?"

She rolled her eyes at him and clucked her tongue. "It's supposed to be sarcasm. Haven't they covered that yet in *Kindergarten*?"

Clark narrowed his eyes and glared at the girl. She was wrapped up warm in a red duffle coat with white fur trim around the hood. Wisps of brown hair peeked out from under that hood. Behind her was a shorter girl in a blue duffle coat. Her hood also up but revealing an almost definite sibling relationship with identical brown hair escaping in wisps.

"I guess I don't need to ask what *your* favourite lesson was in Kindergarten then."

The taller of the two sisters, his current foe for the better spot in the line, brought her gloved hand up to her forehead and pushed back the hood forcefully. She stepped forward then jabbed a finger to his chest. "Just for the record ..." she paused, "it's Diary Time."

"Huh!" Clark was suddenly lost. *What does diary time have to do with sarcasm lessons in Kindergarten?*

"My favourite lesson. You said you didn't need to ask." She stepped back and her angry expression seemed to fade. "But you obviously did. It's Diary Time. I like to write up my news from the weekend on a Monday morning." Clark blinked. The whole feel of the conversation had suddenly shifted. "Don't you do the same thing? I presumed every school did Diary Time," she said in a superior tone.

"Uh. Yes. But Miss Brewster calls it Journal Update."

"Oh, right." She went quiet then and folded her arms across her chest. Clark had an uncontrollable urge to do the same. Her commanding stance got to him on a subconscious level and he folded his arms too. She 'hmphed' and turned away.

"Lois, honey. Keep your hood up," came the voice of the woman stood behind the two girls. She reached out and tugged the red hood back into place then tried to tuck the wisps of hair out of sight as well. "You don't want to catch ..." she stopped half way through her line and brought her hand to her head, swaying a little. Clark watched as the lady attempted to steady herself.

"Mommy?" came a small sweet voice from just out of sight. The younger of the two girls had slid behind but was now looking up at her mother in concern.

"I'm alright, Lucy." She took a few deep breaths and straightened up. "Just the bright sun and cold air I think. Nothing to worry about." She smiled down at her two girls.

Martha put out a hand and took the lady's arm when it looked as if she were about to waver again.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

She nodded and straightened. "Thank you."

"I'm Martha," she offered.

"Ellen," came the one word reply.

Martha had arrived in the line to hear Clark arguing with the young girl. It was so out of character for her sweet little boy that she allowed it to continue, fascinated to hear him defend himself against the barbs thrown by the street-wise city girl. Because, it was obvious that she was well practiced at this herself. She briefly considered the young girl that had exposed a previously hidden side to Clark and then glanced back up to her mother. Martha's heart clenched when she saw the glassy look in the mother's eyes. Was she just a little ill -- a cold -- or was it something much more sinister. Did the mother know? Did the girls know?

"We're here in the city for a few days. A break from the farm," Martha volunteered hoping to start up a conversation with the possibly ill and tired woman. She smiled back. "Jonathan and I run a farm out in Smallville, Kansas." Clark heard a little snicker come from behind. "But, this year, had the opportunity for a break, a Christmas away. I managed to convince Jonathan that we could stock up on items the big city can supply." She lifted her heavily laden arms to demonstrate.

Ellen nodded, knowingly. "I love shopping in the city. It's a good thing Sam is always busy on his research. Gives me plenty of time to shop."

"Research?" Martha asked.

Ellen nodded, "Doctor. Well, not a practitioner any more. He came up with a revolutionary surgery technique. A lot of time was needed on research and he found that he loved it. Now it's all he does. Looking for new and better ways to cut people open." Ellen swayed again and closed her eyes. She reached into her bag for a bottle of water.

"Smallville," Clark heard a whisper behind him then a giggle. He turned and peered over his shoulder to see the older girl whispering in the younger girl's ear. Her whispering wasn't particularly good, though, as he heard every word. "He really comes from a place called *Smallville*! And lives on a farm!" The young girl giggled back and the two sisters laughed with each other.

Clark turned away, a frown on his face. To him Smallville was the best place in the whole world. His mom and dad and the farm were all in Smallville. The bookstore and the lake, the school, Pete, Kenny, the park. Nothing could compare to Smallville.

Time passed and the line moved forwards. Clark held his mom's hand sometimes and swung himself around. Other times he played at jumping around the large flagstones, trying not to hit a crack. The friction between him and the girl behind didn't return until they were about half way down the line.

"Hey," Clark suddenly shouted and turned around. The girl was completely facing the other way, but Clark knew what he'd felt. He narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth then turned back. A few moments later he felt the tugging on his scarf again. "Hey," he shouted louder this time and swivelled all the way round.

"Hmm! What is it, farm boy."

"Leave my scarf alone," he eyed her up and down.

"What!" she choked out mock innocently. "Why would I want your scarf. Maybe it was Lucy," she sing-songed. Lucy turned and looked up at her older sister in confusion.

"What?" came the quiet toddler voice.

"Nothing, Lucy," she replied.

"Lufy!" she repeated.

"Yes, Lucy, that's you."

"I really don't think it was Lucy that was after my scarf," Clark challenged.

"It so was. And why would I want your dumb blue scarf. It wouldn't go with my red coat."

"Red and blue do so go together," Clark challenged.

"Pah!" exclaimed Lois. "What planet were you born on? Everyone knows that you should never put two primary colours together." Clark narrowed his eyes to glare at her. "Oh sorry. You probably haven't learnt what a primary colour is yet." She tipped her head to the side and smirked at him. "Well," her voice took on a mocking, patronising tone. "Red, blue and yellow are all the primary colours. If you mix two of them together you will get the secondary colours: green, oran ..."

"I know what the primary colours are," Clark shouted out to try and interrupt her. "And I'm free to wear whatever colour I choose, miss ... smarty pants." Clark's pause before his insult, and lack of particularly biting insult also, showed his innocence when it came to this type of confrontation. "And just to prove you wrong I'm gonna wear all three together tomorrow."

"Oh honey, you don't have any yellow t-shirts," Martha looked down at her son adoringly, trying to stifle a laugh. He could easily supply the red and blue items but Clark didn't own anything remotely yellow.

Feeling defeated by his own mother Clark crossed his arms in a huff and turned back. He immediately noticed that there were only four people in line before him. Well, four children, three families. He wasn't counting the adults. His heart beat in anticipation. "Santa. I'm gonna see Santa soon. I know what to ask him for. I know," he whispered under his breath.

As the elf helper opened the flap and guided in the next family Clark grinned, shuffling forwards.

"So, what *are *you gonna ask for, farm boy?" came the voice of his nemesis. He narrowed his eyes and ignored her. That's what they always said at school. Ignore the bullies, don't give them the reaction they want and they'll give up. "I know. You need a new milking bucket. Oh, no. It has to be a straw hat." Clark couldn't resist peering over his shoulder and he caught her jumping up and down with excitement. "No, no. I've got it," she shouted triumphantly. "A new bath tub. To wash off the smell of all those cows." She laughed. Clark swivelled round to find her doubled over and clutching her stomach in fits of laughter.

"If anyone smells around here it's you," he bit back. Her comments hurt. More than any other teasing he'd received before. He loved his home, his farm, his cows.

"I do not."

"You smell." Clark revelled in finally finding a real insult he could use.

"Do not," she stamped her foot.

"All girls smell." Clark knew that for a fact in his five-year old mind.

She opened her eyes to retort, eyes glistening brightly, but was stopped when the flap of the grotto fluttered again. The red and green striped elf with a pointy hat and red plaits down either side directed another family inside as the previous one left. Clark turned to watch. *Only one family left.* He grinned as the mother with the double buggy shuffled forward. Nothing could dampen the excitement of seeing Santa. Not even the smelly girl.

Something tugged on his scarf again. He grabbed and tugged back then slid the scarf from around his neck. Balling it up he pushed it into his pockets out of the way, no longer able to tempt the girl, no longer able to distract him. He fiddled with his zip on his coat, sliding it up and down. He pulled off his woolly hat and played with the frizzy bobble for a minute. The tent flap opened and Clark's eyes widened. He pushed the woolly hat back onto his head and watched as the double buggy in the line before him disappeared out of sight. Soon after that he began bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet impatiently.

"You know, " she muttered behind him, "it would have been so different if you'd just let me have my place in line, farm boy." Clark grinned even wider. No matter how much she tried to get at him he was still the one in front.

"Aw. What a pity you're so slow. Just think. Santa's been giving out presents all day." Clark turned and opened his mouth in shock as he pretended that something had just occurred to him. "Oh no. What if he's tired? What if he's about to run out of presents. And I'm in front of you in the line." Glistening hazel eyes widened back at him. Clark noticed the tell-tale shine and the drop of expression on her face. "I'm so sorry, " he attempted quietly,then bit his lip to try and suppress the grin that was begging to get out. He had to turn away quickly as he could no longer hold his expression. As he turned he saw the flap on the tent rustle and his heart leapt.

***

Lois watched as the boy, almost the same height as her, pushed excitedly past the tent flap. "That should be my spot," she mumbled. She felt a little hand worm its way into hers and she looked down at Lucy.

"Next?" she asked.

"Yes, we're next Lucy," she nodded.

"Me first," she jumped and Lois narrowed her eyes to glare at her little sister.

"I've already lost one spot to a stupid, smelly farm boy. And I bet he really does smell like cows. Why should I let you sit on Santa's knee before me. Besides, I'm the older sister." She frowned but there was no passion behind her words. Truthfully the affection she felt for her cute sister was much stronger than her annoyance. She smiled and her heart broke when Lucy's bottom lip stuck out in distress. "Lucy," she laughed. "I think you *should* go first actually."

"Yay! Me first," Lucy shouted.

Waiting in line, watching for the shuddering movement of the tent fabric Lois felt her heart beating faster. Soon she'd be seeing Santa and she could tell him her wish. *What I want for Christmas is ...*

The flap opened and out stepped the nice lady who'd talked to her mother. Behind her came the young boy. He looked up and met her eyes then smiled and lifted his hand to wave as he walked off. As she raised hers back, he mouthed out a 'bye'. The elf led her inside but she craned her head to watch the boy walk across the flagstone square. He was still waving at her. She smiled and raised her hand even higher, giving a final wiggle of her fingers before she slipped into Santa's Grotto.

THE END

The following story –

“When Death Comes Knocking,

Punch Him in the Mouth”

by – Terry Leatherwood

was Nominated in the:

Best Long Story

Best Original Character

and

Best Overall

categories

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

When Death Comes Knocking, Punch Him In the Mouth

The familiar characters of this story are not my own but are the property of corporate entities (DC Comics, December 3rd Productions, ABC, etc.) other than myself. This work is a labor of love and is presented with no expectation of remuneration.

Warning: This story is NOT a deathfic!

Nobody dies in this tale. But someone vitally important to the Lois and Clark universe thinks she’s going to die, so she does some very unusual things, some which might be considered – eek! – out of character. Please trust me when I say that she thinks she has a very good reason for behaving this way.

This story takes place at the end of Season One, after Lex has made his pursuit of Lois plain but before he bombs the Daily Planet. It replaces the end of the Lois-Lex romance arc.

It also takes place before many of today’s legal restrictions on sharing of personal medical information in the United States were put into place.

Enjoy.

>>> Prologue

Bill Cumberland was bored out of his skull. He’d thought that a degree in chemistry would be an easy slide into an exciting life, full of thrills and chills and important discoveries. He’d envisioned himself as assistant to the next Louis Pasteur, finding a cure for some exotic disease. Or maybe he’d work in a lab where the next miracle drug would be developed. Failing that, he could work at S.T.A.R. Labs and assist important scientists in their research into the mysteries of the universe.

Instead, he was stuck in a small lab on the north side of Metropolis, pushing vials of blood through a machine which printed out the chemical results.

No intrigue, no mystery, no excitement, just mind-numbing grunt work any trained chimp or stoner with the munchies could do. But no, they had to have someone with a degree in chemistry to oversee the tests for the doctors and scientists who sent their samples to the lab for analysis. His boss told him it was to satisfy the various attorneys and insurance companies involved, but Bill didn’t believe it.

Well, he thought, if he had to do something so impersonal and joyless, at least he should get paid well for it.

No dice there, either. Bill barely made enough money to support himself in a cheap one-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t enough to support a girlfriend, which was why Candy had broken up with him the day before.

It was also why he was not only bored out of his skull but also frustrated and depressed.

Even the course catalog for the Master’s program in chemistry lying open on his desk didn’t draw his interest today. An advanced degree would give him some of the opportunities he longed for, and he’d made the decision to look into the program at Metropolis University, but he hadn’t done anything about it yet. The cost of the program was out of his reach at the moment, and he was two months behind on his current student loan. The collection officer had made the appropriate sympathetic noises and then had told him that if he didn’t get caught up soon, they’d have to report him to the credit bureau as a bad risk, and he might never get a better job or better place to live or a newer car because of it. Things were so bad he was actually contemplating moving back home to live with his parents – or worse, moving in with his brother.

So he was bored, frustrated, depressed, and morose about his job, his life, his romantic prospects, and his immediate future.

And those were probably the reasons he inadvertently switched the report for “Lane, L” with the one for “Lani, L” and put each result with the other’s return envelope.

Bill never realized what he set in motion that morning. But since it didn’t gain him any money, get him a new girlfriend who was more interested in him than she was in what he could get her, push him toward that advanced degree, or drop some excitement or intrigue into his life, he wouldn’t have cared in the slightest. The only thing that kept him from deliberately switching results around was his inherent honesty.

That was all that would save him from being prosecuted later on when it all came out.

And it was also the only thing that would keep a certain mis-diagnosed patient from hunting him down and dismembering him slowly and excruciatingly. That, and the myriad activities and their consequences with which she would soon be swamped.

So, without knowing it, Bill really had it good at that time of his life. He never had to face Mad Dog Lane in person.

>>> Chapter One

Lois slumped back in the chair in her doctor’s office, stunned.

No. She was shocked.

No. This was beyond stunned, beyond being shocked. She felt as if she’d just been hit in the face with a baseball bat.

She gathered herself, then stood and blinked. She saw the young doctor’s mouth moving and realized that she hadn’t heard a word of what he was saying. “Wait!” she cried out. “This – you can’t be right about this! There’s no way I have – that there’s – that – “

He needed to work on his sympathetic look. “Ms. Lane, I’m sorry. The diagnosis is real. You are suffering from advanced late-stage pancreatic cancer.”

“But – but I – you can’t – I – “

“I’m truly sorry, Ms. Lane. I can refer you to a specialist for further care.”

“But – No! I only had a low-grade fever! I only felt a little tired!”

“You’re young and strong. Your body hid the major symptoms from you until just last week. You’re still doing far better than most patients in your condition.”

Clark’s recent story on the current state of cancer research and treatment popped into her mind. “Wait! Wait a minute! My paper recently published a story on survival rates of a bunch of different cancers! And the experts said that – that pancreatic cancer had a very low survival rate!” She paused to remember more, then said, “How advanced is this cancer?”

He frowned. “Ms. Lane, I’d rather you go over this with the oncologist. He or she can give you more precise information – “

“No! You tell me right now! How bad is this? How sick am I?”

The doctor – who looked younger than Doogie Howser to her – frowned, then sighed deeply, then said, “Most patients who are initially diagnosed at the stage you’re in have two to four months.”

Her vision grayed out for a moment and she fell, loose-limbed, back onto the chair. “You – you mean – four months – to live? That’s it?”

“I’m afraid so. I’m still surprised you didn’t show any symptoms before now – “

“I came in two days ago thinking I had the flu.” She took a deep breath and her eyes focused on the boy in front of her, the doctor whose voice hadn’t yet gone through puberty. “Now you’re telling me I probably won’t see my twenty-seventh birthday.”

“Sometimes these cancers present few overt symptoms in young, active patients. Ms. Lane, I’m sorry to give you this news. I really am. I wish it could be better.” He knelt down close to her and spoke as gently as he could. “Shall I set up an appointment with the oncologist? We have a close working relationship with an excellent clinic.”

The kid’s name had leaked out of her mind like water through a sieve. She looked at his ID tag and read ‘Gregory Bell.’ “Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, Dr. Bell. Do that.”

“Good.” He stood. “I’ll have Connie call you.”

“Connie?”

“Connie Schwartz, the nurse who took your blood earlier. She’ll take care of all the arrangements. Should she call you at home or at your office?”

She’d forgotten Connie’s name, too. “Uh. Home, I guess. If I’m not there call the Daily Planet.”

He extended his hand to her. “I think you should be with your family now. Let them help you get used to the situation.”

She stared at his hand and almost burst out laughing. Situation? He wanted her to get used to the situation? He expected her to just pull the covers up over her head and let death creep up on her and take her without a knock-down drag-out war?

Not likely. Not her. Not Lois Lane.

Or did he expect her family to help her? Her absent father, the great doctor and inventor with no time or appreciation for her? Her mother, the serial drunk? Her sister, the flighty flake?

That wasn’t likely to happen either.

She stood without taking his hand. He stood also and tried to appear sympathetic, but to Lois he just looked like a boy dressing up in his father’s clothes. Lois leaned forward and glared at him from inside his comfort zone. “I may not have much time left, Doctor, but I’m going to do something important, something significant, something noteworthy with it. You just hide and watch.”

His smile didn’t light up his eyes. “Good for you, Ms. Lane. I’m certain you’ll do exactly what you intend to do.”

He didn’t believe her. He thought she’d dry up and blow away. But she’d built a life by confounding the expectations of others, whether it was her father, her sister, her mother, her faculty advisor, her boss, or her partner. She’d build her death the same way. If she had to go out now, she’d do it on a high note and make people remember her.

The office door didn’t hit her in the backside as she stormed out.

*****

By the time she opened all the locks on her apartment door, the bravado she’d displayed at the doctor’s office had evaporated and she was fighting tears. The slam of the door signaled that battle was lost.

She never knew how long she lay prone on the living room carpet, crying and wailing and pounding the floor with her fists or curled up in a ball trying to hide from the awful truth that she was dying. Her death, once far in the future, was crashing into her life with the force of a runaway subway train. If cancer could have been flushed out of someone’s body by weeping, it would have left Lois and been swept downstream to Hob’s Bay.

But she finally ran out of tears. She sat up, knuckled her eyes dry, and began thinking about what she needed to do next.

The thought that resonated in her mind like an air horn in a gymnasium was that she would not – absolutely would not – give up and die without accomplishing something important. And the best way to do that would be to break some story that would give people something to talk about at her funeral, one over which people would shake their heads in wonder. It would be her continuing epitaph, a marker she would sink deep into the earth to tell everyone who passed this way that Lois Lane had been here, and that Lois Lane had made a difference for good with her life.

But what story? How could she work out of the Planet without letting Perry and Jimmy and Cat and Eduardo and Clark and everyone else know about her illness? There was no way they’d treat her with anything other than kid gloves once they knew. They’d fuss over her and bring her drinks and snacks and put those fake smiles on their faces and remind her of her appointments and ask her if she’d taken her medication and treat her like she was made of wafer-thin porcelain.

Especially Clark.

She almost started crying again as he took center stage in her mind, but she ruthlessly pushed the tears back. She couldn’t allow herself to weep every time she thought about him, or about any of her other friends at the paper. It was time for her to be hard, to be merciless, to be fearless and determined.

And it was time for her to make a decision about Lex. The man had flown her to Italy for dinner. He’d taken her to the opera as his special guest. He’d offered her an executive position at his TV news network. He’d defended her that night at the Planet when those armed thieves had shot him. He’d proposed to her, told her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

And that thought brought her up short. She realized that she didn’t want to spend the last few weeks of her life married to Lex Luthor, using the initials L.L.L or – horrors – L. L-L, assuming he’d even go through with his proposal once he found out she was dying. No, if she were going to spend her last days hyphenated with anyone, it would be Clark.

“Clark Kent?” she wondered aloud.

She turned the thought over in her mind several times, took it out and looked at it from all sides, and decided it was one of the best thoughts she’d ever thought in her life. Even better than dying in Superman’s arms.

That just wouldn’t do. The superhero would baby her, cater to her every whim, try to amuse and distract her, but when it came right down to it, she didn’t want to die in Superman’s arms. He’d want to save her, to heal her, but he couldn’t, and it would tear him apart to watch Lois’ death. If she had to close her eyes for the last time while raging against the dying of the light, the person she would want to be holding her when she breathed her last was Clark.

The realization stunned her, but it was a good kind of stun, the kind that lit up your entire week and put a near-permanent smile on your face and opened your eyes to possibilities and realities you’d never considered before.

Lois was sure of this one. She’d rather die in Clark’s arms tomorrow than live a few months as the wife or girlfriend or consort or whatever to the third richest man in the world. Clark would take care of her without demeaning her, without treating her like a glass sculpture, and he’d give her everything he had to give without reservations or conditions.

Lex’ devotion to her wouldn’t – couldn’t – come anywhere near Clark’s love. And that assumed that Lex would continue their relationship once he found out about the cancer.

Besides, she loved Clark, not Lex.

And that realization gave her the courage to do what she knew she needed to do next. It would be hard on her friends, and doubly hard on Clark, but if she was going to leave her mark on the world she couldn’t drag anyone else along with her. No one else could suffer along with her while she conducted her own personal crusade. She had to do this alone.

If the mark she left on the city was going to be a big one, she had to bring in the biggest story of her career – no, the biggest story the Planet had ever printed. And in moments it came to her what she had to do.

Someone out there was pulling a lot of the criminal strings in the city, someone who was all but invisible, someone who was hidden from the view of the lower-level hoods and thugs, but who controlled most of the major crime in the city. That person was the Moriarty to her Holmes, the Napoleon of crime to her stand for justice and truth. There was no proof that such a person actually existed, and no real evidence of this alleged person’s identity, but she knew – as surely as she knew her time on Earth would soon end – that there was someone directing the evil afflicting her city.

That was her target. That was her story.

She had to take down The Boss.

That would be her legacy.

*****

Perry leaned out of his office and glanced at the empty desk. Lois hadn’t come back from her doctor’s appointment, nor had she called in. It wasn’t like her to be out of touch this long on a Tuesday afternoon, even if it was a slow news day.

Although her partner was at his desk. The young man was busy frowning at something on his monitor and making lots of notes. Maybe he knew something. “Kent,” he called out through his open office door, “have you heard from Lois since she left for her appointment this morning?”

“Huh? Uh, no, actually I – I haven’t.”

Perry watched the younger man’s face morph from mild surprise to real concern. “Son, if you do hear from her, let me know right away.”

“Yeah. I mean, will do, Perry.”

The editor ducked back into his newly remodeled hidey-hole. Luthor’s money had refurbished the building and filled the Planet’s coffers once again and their pages with advertisers, but Perry wasn’t sure he liked all the changes. He and Luthor had butted heads more than once in just the few days since the transfer of ownership had been completed, and he’d come to dread the man’s sudden appearances on the news floor. It seemed that trouble followed Lex Luthor wherever he went. It coated everyone in his wake with soot and grime and slime, yet it never splashed a drop of mud on him.

Like now.

Perry sensed the shift in mood on the floor before he smelled the expensive cigar smoke Luthor seemed to exude from his pores. Through the window, Perry saw the new owner lean down to speak to Clark. He also saw Clark’s body tense as Luthor spoke. And he was almost gratified as he watched Luthor’s frown grow.

But that gratification fled as Luthor straightened and strode to Perry’s office, trailed by the tall Englishman who Perry mentally called Luthor’s White Shadow.

“Perry, have you heard from Lois today?”

“Why, no, Mr. Luthor, I haven’t. She left for her doctor’s appointment at ten and she hasn’t been back.”

Luthor glanced at the gem-studded Rolex on his wrist. “It’s nearly three o’clock now. Might she have gone home?”

“It’s possible, but she’s always kept in touch on stuff like this. If she’s sick at home, she hasn’t called in.”

For the first time in Perry’s experience, Luthor looked as if he didn’t know what to do. If not for their shared concern for Lois, Perry’s gratification would have made a curtain call and bowed to the audience.

Finally, Nigel St. John leaned in and whispered something to Luthor, who hesitated before nodding his head sharply. Then he turned back to Perry. “I’ll let you get back to work now. Please let me know if you do hear from her.”

“I will. I hope you’ll do the same if you hear from her?”

Luthor locked eyes with Perry for a moment as if reestablishing his authority. “Of course, Perry. We’ll chat later.”

Not if I see you first, thought Perry.

*****

Clark Kent actively disliked Lex Luthor. Of course, he knew the man for who he really was, but that knowledge had come to him because Clark was also Superman, and he couldn’t get Lois to believe bad things about Luthor unless he told her while wearing the Suit. There was no reasonable way for Superman to know some of the things Clark knew about Luthor. And if Superman were to inform Lois of his suspicions, she’d eventually want to know how Superman knew things that only Clark should have known. The old “We’re good friends and we talk” excuse was wearing pretty thin by now, and Clark couldn’t risk his secret leaking from Lois to Luthor. He wasn’t too uncomfortable with Lois knowing, but Luthor could never know. That was a possibility too horrible to contemplate.

But the slimy worm did have a legitimate concern. Lois should have been back by now, or, failing that, should have called by now. Of course, if she were covering a story she’d stumbled into on her way back, that would not only explain her absence, it would be typical of Lois. She could get in trouble or snag a headline while going to the grocery store for a quart of milk.

He had just about decided to put off worrying about her when his phone rang.

“Daily Planet, Clark Kent speaking.”

“Kent, why does your partner need a gun?”

Clark blinked in confusion for a moment. “What? Who is this?”

“This is Bobby. You know, Bobby Bigmouth?”

“Oh! Sorry about that, Bobby. You took me by surprise when you – hey, what do you mean about Lois needing a gun?”

Bobby sighed into Clark’s ear. “About forty-five minutes ago, Lois bought a three-fifty-seven magnum double-action revolver with a six-inch barrel, a box of thirty-eight special ammo, and six three-fifty-seven rounds from a street dealer in Suicide Slum. She made him show her how to hold it, how to load it and clean it, and she even made him explain how the revolver would hold either three-fifty-seven magnum ammo or thirty-eight special ammo because the diameter of both rounds is the same but the three-fifty-seven cartridge is longer and shoots a bigger bullet faster and makes a way bigger bang and causes more damage. Plus she had him show her how you can pull the hammer back into the cocked position or just pull the trigger to shoot it.”

“I don’t need a ballistics lesson or a sales pitch here. I need you to tell me what you know about Lois.”

“I’m telling you about Lois! After that little lecture, she loaded the gun, had Walt – that’s the guy who sold her the gun and ammo and only charged her two-fifty for the whole thing, which is about the best deal you’ll get anywhere – anyway, she let Walt check it and make sure it was right. Then she pointed it at his head and demanded to know who he was working for, who he reported to, who he paid off, and who supplied the guns he sold.”

Clark didn’t respond for a moment. This did NOT sound like Lois. It had to be a joke of some kind, maybe something she and Bobby had cooked up to yank his chain. That was it. Had to be. No way this was true.

“Look, Bobby, you can tell Lois that it isn’t funny and I didn’t buy it. Now put her on the line so I can—“

“You idiot! Your partner has flipped out! She’s gonna kill somebody if you don’t stop her!”

“Who, Lois? Kill someone? Come on!”

“You stupid – Look, Walt didn’t spill the beans just because he had a gun pointed at him. He’s a little guy but he’s a lot tougher than that. So Lois pulled back the hammer and told him to answer her. He laughed. And do you know what happened next?”

He was sure it was a joke now. “No, Bobby, tell me! I’m dying with anticipation!”

“She shot him in the foot and threatened to put the next bullet in his knee. Then he answered her questions. And when she left, he dragged himself to a phone and called me to take him to the emergency room.”

Clark waited a moment. “That’s not much of a punch line.”

“Punch line?” Bobby’s voice got louder. “Punch line! One of my friends is in the Metropolis General emergency room right now! He’s going to have surgery on his foot and it’ll be weeks before he can walk normally again! And your partner has gone crazy and is shooting her snitches! She might even take it into her head to shoot me! And you think this is a joke?”

“Wait – you’re serious? This is for real? You’re not kidding me?”

“I’m not kidding you, Kent! Lane is out there now with a gun and a bunch of bullets and she’s willing to use them! You need to bring her in before she kills someone!”

And with that, Bobby Bigmouth hung up.

****

Perry had watched Luthor leave. He’d glanced at Clark as the reporter’s phone rang, but he’d been distracted by his own phone call. “Perry White, Daily Planet.”

“Yes, this is Connie Schwartz calling for Lois Lane, from Dr. Bell’s office. I’m unable to get her on her business line.”

“Ms. Lane isn’t here at the moment. May I take a message?”

“Hmm, that’s strange. She’s not answering her home phone either.”

“Well, that’s our Lois. May I take a message for her?”

“Yes, please. Tell her to call Dr. Bell’s office as soon as she can. And please tell her that her diagnosis was incorrect.”

Her diagnosis? “I’m sorry, Ms. – Schwartz, is that your name?”

“Yes. I’m Dr. Bell’s nurse.”

“Okay, Ms. Schwartz, what diagnosis are you talking about?”

“The one Ms. Lane received this morning. You see, Dr. Bell is also the attending physician for Ashton Acres Retirement Community, and we have a comatose patient there named Louis Lanier, and apparently the lab work for Mr. Lanier and Ms. Lane got mixed up at the lab and we thought Ms. Lane had terminal pancreatic cancer but it’s really Mr. Lanier who does and we didn’t realize it until just now when Dr. Bell saw that Mr. Lanier’s lab report said he wasn’t pregnant and – “

“Look, Ms. Schwartz, I understand about the mix-up. Can you tell me what’s really wrong with Lois Lane?”

“Oh, I guess so, since you already know about that wrong diagnosis. She’s just a little run-down, slightly anemic due to poor sleep habits and an unhealthy diet, and she’s suffering from stress. All she really needs is a few days of rest and healthy meals and she’ll be as good as new.”

“Thank you, Ms. Schwartz. I’ll give her that message. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, sir.”

As he put down the phone, he noticed Clark standing in his doorway. “Chief, I just got the craziest story about Lois from Bobby Bigmouth. I don’t think it’s true – I don’t even understand how it could be true – but Bobby believes it.”

Perry nodded and sat back. “Well, you sit down and tell me your story about Lois, and then I’ll tell you one about Lois that will top yours.”

“I don’t see how, but okay. Bobby said that Lois just bought a gun from a street dealer and then shot him in the foot when he wouldn’t answer her questions any other way. Isn’t that insane?”

Perry frowned in thought. Then his eyes bugged out and he lurched forward. “Lois’s doctor gave her someone else’s diagnosis and she thinks she’s dying of cancer.”

He watched Clark put the two tales together in reverse order and saw his face as he came to the same conclusion that Perry had – that Lois was going after a big story she didn’t think she had time to work correctly and had thrown all the rules out the window.

In unison, they blurted out, “We have to find her now!”

>>> Chapter Two

For Lois, step one in her master plan had been fairly easy. Rent a cheap, furnished apartment on an upper floor with a reliable fire escape and store some clothes and writing material there. She hadn’t even needed her thin disguise, since the building manager was too drunk to see straight. She wasn’t sure he even knew he’d rented out that apartment for three months to Wanda Detroit – a name no one in her circle of friends and contacts would recognize – who had paid the full term in cash. It left her with enough operating capital to lay out some small bribes and still leave meal money for the time she’d be here. After all, dead women didn’t need savings accounts.

Step two had been quite a bit harder. Buying a gun from Walt had been easy, but getting any real information out of him hadn’t been. The one good thing that had come out of that encounter was that she now knew she could shoot someone if the situation required it. She just hoped he wasn’t hurt too badly.

Step three would be a bit time-consuming but not hard. She’d have to cut her hair short and change the color to make it harder for people to recognize her. This was the ultimate undercover assignment, one where she was not just hiding from the bad guys but from the police and her friends and coworkers.

And from Superman.

The thought that she’d never see Superman again, at least not as a friend, bothered her, but not as much as she would have believed a few days ago. The hero couldn’t help her now. She didn’t even miss his presence as much as she thought she would. It might have been nice to have a superhero along for this, the final great ride of her life, but Lois Lane didn’t need Superman to be a great investigator.

She did, however, miss Clark’s presence. The big Kansas farm boy had wormed his way past her defenses and made himself important to her. He’d never spilled any of the secrets she’d entrusted to him, and he always kept his word. Sure, sometimes he vanished into thin air when she wanted him with her, but thinking back on it she realized that he never disappeared when she really needed him.

And those few kisses they’d shared were little slices of heaven. Those were memories she’d take out and savor as the end came closer. The knowledge that Clark was not only a good kisser, but that he really wanted to kiss only her, warmed her heart and brought a smile to her lips. Lex’ kisses were skilled, precise, and exact. Clark’s were soft and warm and gentle. And his lips fit hers quite well.

The assurance that Cat Grant wasn’t the woman of his dreams was nice, too.

But there wasn’t time for that now. She had to act on the info Walt had given her before it was too late. And she needed to change her look first.

The scissors were sharp enough to shorten her hair, and the package of blonde highlights promised to make what was left of her hair Shine Like The Morning Sun! Lifts in her shoes, dorky horn-rimmed glasses with clear lenses, and some judicious makeup would alter her appearance, as would the oversized sweater and pants stuffed with washcloths. It would also give her a convenient place to hide her revolver. So, before she lost her nerve, and before the cracked mirror over the bathroom sink could fall apart, she began the ordeal of becoming someone else to the outside world.

*****

Nigel had never liked Lois Lane. He would have been far more content had his employer allowed her to die during the failed cyborg boxing venture, but the man had saved her by killing a valued associate instead. Failing that, Nigel would gladly have given up his usual stipend for assassinations to tie her to an anchor chain and drop her into Hob’s Bay, but the Boss had forbidden him to take any overt action against her.

Nigel had never disobeyed any of his employer’s instructions, but he’d been within a breath of doing so after Lex had ordered him that very morning to bend every effort to find Lois Lane. The woman was more than a nuisance – she was an actual danger to the smooth operation of Luthor’s real businesses. Deliberately seeking out this woman was tantamount to taking an afternoon stroll among the targets at a shooting range while wearing an elk disguise.

Nigel decided that he actively disliked Lois Lane and would do almost anything to split her away from Lex Luthor.

In the meantime, he had a job to do, so he did it in the best way he knew how. His informants would relay any and all information to him as soon as she was located. Then he would inform his employer of her whereabouts and be instructed to either watch over her or – shudder – to fetch her back.

So when his personal cell phone rang during his daily report to Mr. Luthor, he excused himself and opened it.

*****

Lex hated it when Nigel answered his phone during a briefing, but he knew that the man would do so only in order to carry out his instructions. Patience wasn’t part of Lex’ personality, but he’d learned the hard way to allow people to do their jobs without his constant interference.

He stood and picked up a fresh cigar, then lit it, half-listening to Nigel’s side of the conversation.

“Yes. You have? Tell me what happened.” A pause, then a sigh. “Young woman, I am not in the habit of playing games. When you have – excuse me?” A longer pause. Lex looked up and saw Nigel’s eyes open wide. “Are you certain of your information? There is no doubt?” Lex began to feel concern. Nigel hadn’t worn that expression of open-mouthed astonishment since the shuttle bombing had been foiled by the newly revealed Superman. “Yes – of course I’ll pass on the information! Just keep looking! Then we will double your usual fee! Yes, double! Call back when you have something useful.”

Nigel closed the phone and stared at it as if it had just told him that he was working for a Jamaican midget wrestler. He turned to Lex and opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Nigel?” Lex prompted. “Has something untoward taken place?”

“I – yes. Assuming this latest report is to be believed.”

Lex swiveled to face him. “Do you believe it?”

“I’m – not certain. The source is generally reliable, but – this is so out of character for her!”

“Out of character for whom?”

Nigel stood straight and tall. “My apologies, sir. I was quite taken aback by this – this call. My informant tells me that Lois Lane purchased a firearm on the street – a revolver, I believe the source said – and used it to extort information from the weapon’s seller. She even – excuse me, sir, this is the part I find most difficult to credit – Ms. Lane allegedly shot him in the foot to make him talk.”

The imported nine-dollar cigar dropped from Lex’ mouth and fell to the floor. “She – she what?”

Nigel lifted his hands. “I also have difficulty accepting this tale, sir, but we must consider the source, who is reliably placed and has an excellent track record. However, I advise verifying this information before making any decisions based upon it.”

“But – why would Lois shoot someone? What was she doing? Was she researching a story?”

Nigel shook his head. “My first thought is to say ‘no.’ Any information obtained in such a manner cannot be admitted as evidence in a court of law – at least, not when obtained by any law enforcement agent – and Perry White’s ethical standards would not permit him to ask any of his reporters to do anything like this. I am at a loss to explain her actions, sir, assuming that this report is accurate, of course.”

Lex looked around and saw the cigar on the floor, burning a spot in the expensive and irreplaceable Persian rug. He picked it up and stared at it for a moment, then muttered, “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“What? Oh, nothing, Nigel. Just rejecting some symbolism.” He stubbed out the cigar in the ivory ashtray on his ebony desk. “We will verify this story. Find out what really happened.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Nigel strode gracefully out of the office, Lex flopped down into his chair. Lois had shot someone? Why? What was going on in her beautiful mind?

Maybe Perry White knew more than he was willing to admit.

*****

Perry and Clark collided in the doorway of his office, then almost as one they stopped and stared at each other. Perry beat Clark to the word when he said, “She’s gone to ground. We won’t find her by running around like chickens with their heads chopped off.”

Clark sighed and nodded. “I know. She’s not at home, not here, not at the doctor’s office, so – where do we look?”

After a moment, Perry snapped his fingers and said, “Henderson!”

“You want me to call?”

“No. You take my cell phone and go poke around at the hospital where that guy who got shot is being treated. I’ll call Henderson and then give you whatever info I can get out of him.”

“Right. Thanks, Perry.”

Clark grabbed his coat and sprinted for the stairway. Perry watched him go, momentarily envious of the younger man’s strength and speed and agility, then walked back in his office, trying to keep the limp he’d picked up from colliding with Kent to himself.

The phone rang before he could lift it to dial out. “Perry White, Daily – “

“White, what’s wrong with your people?”

Perry pulled the phone back and looked at it, then said with exaggerated politeness, “With whom am I conversing, please?”

“Sorry. This is Bill Henderson. What’s this about Lane shooting a guy?”

“I was about to call you about it. I’ve heard the story but haven’t confirmed it yet.”

“Consider it confirmed. This guy Walt McNally is a street hustler and gun dealer. Word on the street is that if you want a clean piece, you go see him. Lane shot him in the foot to make him talk about his network, specifically who he reports to. They’re prepping him for surgery right now.”

Perry sighed. “I was hoping this was just some crazy mix-up, but now I’m convinced. Lois got a bad diagnosis from her doctor and she thinks she’s terminally ill.”

Perry thought he heard Henderson swear, but he wasn’t sure. Then the inspector came back on the line. “Look, we have to find her before she kills someone. If she thinks she’s dying there’s no telling what she might do or who she might do it to.”

“I know. Look, Bill, I wish I knew where she was. But you know Lois. If she wants to blend in, she blends in. And if she doesn’t want to be found—“

“I know, I know!” Perry waited for Henderson to speak again. “I’m sorry, Perry, but I have to put out an APB on her and list her as armed and dangerous. I can’t risk my people.”

“I understand. Is there anything you can give me that would help me find her?”

“You now know everything I know. And in violation of normal protocol, I’m going to include you in our loop on her. Unofficially, of course.”

“Of course. In that case, I’d better tell you that Kent is headed to the hospital to interview the guy with the foot wound. Can you tell your officers he’s on his way so they don’t shoot him?”

“Will do. I can’t guarantee Walt will talk, but we’ll see what Kent can get out of him.”

*****

Clark walked into the ER entrance before Perry hung up his phone. He strode directly to the admissions desk and beckoned to one of the nurses. “My name is Clark Kent and I’m with the Daily Planet. Do you have a Walt McNally here as a patient? Gunshot wound to the foot? I need to talk to him as soon as possible.”

The tall redhead frowned at him. “Sir, you must be aware that I can’t give out any information on any person who might or might not be a patient here except to a family member. Are you a family member?”

“No, but I—“

“Then I can’t tell you anything, sir. You’ll have to leave—“

“But I have to talk to him! Other lives are at stake!”

“I’m sorry, sir, you—“

“Hey!” Bobby Bigmouth leaned out from behind a curtain in the treatment area. “Get in here, Kent, before they take Walt up to surgery. It’s okay, Brenda, I’ll vouch for him.”

The nurse frowned and shook her head, then pointed at the curtain. Clark all but ran into the treatment area.

The man on the treatment bed was shorter than Lois and might, after a huge meal and a quick swim while fully clothed, have weighed as much as she did. His face was pale and his eyes were vacant from the painkillers he’d received, but he proved he was at least partially aware of his surroundings when he saw Clark.

“Is this the guy?” he slurred.

“Yeah, Walt, this is the guy. He’s straight as a laser beam but he keeps his word.” Bobby turned to Clark and pointed a long index finger in his face. “And you gotta promise both of us you won’t use anything you hear in any kind of investigation, see? We both have reps to consider.”

Clark frowned. “I can’t do that. All I can promise is that I won’t go after either one of you. My only goal right now is to find Lois, and I can’t do that without your help.”

Walt threw his head back and barked out a drugged laugh. “Ha-ha! On you, Bobby! He jus’ like the rest of ‘em, lies through his pretty, pretty teeth.” He leaned forward and squinted. “Hey, show me them pearly whites! Smile for me and lie to me some more!”

As Clark moved forward, Bobby put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. “Hang on, Kent. Walt’s already gotten his pre-op meds and he’s pretty loopy. Just stand here a minute, okay?”

“I don’t have time to – “

“Hey! You want to find Lane, you stand there and let me talk.”

They locked eyes for a long moment, then Clark relaxed slightly and moved back. “Go,” he said. “Talk away.”

Bobby nodded and turned to Walt. “Hey, Wally, pal, Kent won’t lie to ya. I swear. All he wants to do is find the dame who plugged you in the foot.”

“Yeah. My foot. They think I’ll walk okay. But I won’t have my pinky toe.” The man sniffed and looked at the far end of the bed. “They couldn’t find it. Couldn’t find it, can’t sew it back on. Rat prob’ly ate it by now.” He covered his eyes with his hands and began to cry. “She shot off my toe! Why’d she shoot off my toe? What’d my toe ever do to her?”

“That’s what Kent wants to know, Walt, and he has to find the dame before he can ask her. C’mon, man, we gotta give him somethin’ to go on.”

“My toe, my toe – she shot my toe! I told her not to but she did anyway!” Walt fell back against the pillow. “Now she’s gonna shoot Mike’s toe off too!”

“Mike? You mean Big Mike? She’s gonna shoot Big Mike’s toe?”

“Yeah! I told her where he was! I had to! She was gonna shoot off my other pinky toe!”

Bobby glanced up and Clark and nodded. “Okay, Walt, where did you tell her to find Big Mike?”

“She’s gonna shoot his toe off and he’s gonna blame me! You know how he is, Bobby! He don’t understand about a man’s toes!”

“Hey, Walt, if Kent can find Big Mike before Lane does, he can—“

“Lane? Who’s Lane?”

“Lane’s the crazy dame who shot your toe. Where’s she gonna look for Big Mike? Huh, Walt? C’mon! Where did you tell her to look for Big Mike?”

Walt sniffed and wiped his eyes, then blinked several times. “I don’t remember – wait – yeah, she’s gonna go see him at his office. You know, his basement office?”

Two men in surgical garb opened the curtain and moved to the bed. “Okay, Mr. McNally,” the taller man said, “we’re going to take you to the operating room now. We’ll fix you up just as good as new.”

“Good as new?” The nurse nodded and Walt smiled. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Mr. McNally.”

Walt’s eyes brightened and he smiled crookedly. “Then – you found my toe? You got my toe away from the rats and you’re gonna put it back on my foot?”

“Something like that. You just relax and let us take care of you.”

Walt sniffed again. “Okay. Hey, Bobby, you hear that? They found my pinky toe!”

Bobby nodded and smiled at Walt. “Sure, buddy. You just rest and let them take care of you. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay. Bye-bye for now.”

Bobby turned to Clark as soon as the men wheeled Walt out. “I’ll write down the address for you. But you gotta be real careful. Big Mike is mean, and they don’t call him ‘Big’ because he gives a lot of money to charity.”

Clark took the napkin Bobby scribbled on. “Got it. I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Okay. Hey, wait! Why is Lane going all Calamity Jane all of a sudden?”

“I’ll tell you later. Right now I need to go stop her from shooting someone else.”

*****

Big Mike leaned back in his chair and stretched. “Hey! Kowalski! You out there?”

“Sure am, Boss! You need something?”

“Yeah. I’m hungry and it’s almost dinnertime. Go get me a turkey and cheese at the deli shop around the corner.”

The smaller man poked his military-style buzz cut around the door. “Uh, Boss, remember, they moved the shop about three blocks over last month?”

Mike frowned at him. “So walk a little farther!”

“You sure? I don’t wanna leave you here alone. You know what happened to Walt earlier today.”

“I’ll be fine, Ski. I got Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson to keep me company. Go get the sandwich.”

“Fourteen-inch turkey and Swiss with all the trimmings, right? Not toasted?”

“That’s it. And pick up a two-liter soda and a party-sized bag of chips before you come back.”

“Will do. Be back as soon as I can.”

As Kowalski trotted up the steps, Mike opened the top drawer of his desk and lifted out a forty-four caliber magnum revolver. It was his favorite pistol, and unlike most shooters, he was strong enough to fire it quickly and accurately with one hand. He had won quite a few bets at the shooting range by putting all of his bullets inside a seven-inch circle at thirty yards with that one hand, firing all six rounds within five seconds. And it had been a long time since anyone had been dumb enough to bet against him on his prowess with the weapon. Big Mike felt quite safe.

Scant seconds after Kowalski left, he heard the front door of his office open. He snatched up the pistol and held it down beside his leg as he stood and moved cat-like to the front wall of the room he was in. Then he waited.

After a moment, an old woman’s thin, ragged voice called out, “Hello? Is – is anyone here? Can anyone help me?”

“Whaddya want, lady?”

“Oh, thank goodness!” she quavered. “Please, I’m hurt. My leg is all bruised up. I fell against the curb outside.”

He began to relax as he heard the intruder shuffle farther in. “How’d you get hurt?”

“Oh, silly me, I just stepped off the curb to cross the street and I fell. Please help me. I need to get back to my cart. Someone will take all my stuff if I’m not there to protect it.”

Mike relaxed and laid his pistol on the edge of the desk. It was just one of the old homeless bag ladies, pushing all her belongings around in an old beat-up shopping cart. He stepped through the doorway to the outer office and saw an older chubby woman with dirty blonde hair sitting on the couch in his outer office, rubbing her lower leg tenderly.

He decided it couldn’t hurt to kneel down and check her out. “C’mon, lady, let me take a look. I bet you ain’t hurt bawwkkk!”

He didn’t see her other foot snap up into his throat, but he felt it. The huge man rolled onto his back, clutching his neck and trying to breathe.

He’d kill her, he thought as he rolled to sit up and face her. He’d strangle her with his bare hands. He’d –

He’d wait to see what she was going to do with the revolver she was pointing at him. It wasn’t as large a caliber as his, but at this range it didn’t have to be.

“Okay, Mr. Big Mike,” she said in the same thin, reedy voice, “you’re going to tell me who you report to and who the Boss is.”

“Why – agghh!” Mike coughed several times, then growled, “Why should I do that?”

“Why, so I won’t shoot you, my dear.”

He tried to laugh but couldn’t, so he settled for slowly turning on his haunches to one side so he could get his feet under him and make a move. “Now why don’t I believe you’ll—“

The pistol exploded in the old woman’s hand and Mike felt a sharp slap against the outside of his left hip. He collapsed on the concrete floor and grabbed at the offended portion of his body, then lifted up a bloody hand. “Ow! You crazy old – you shot me!”

She smiled. It was a grandmotherly smile, all warm and tender with straight, white teeth. “And I’ll do it again if I have to. Do I have to, young man?”

“You shot me in the butt!”

“I can shoot you somewhere else if you want.”

“Oh, yeah?” It was a weak comeback, he knew, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

She raised her eyebrows. “I could shoot you in the shoulder. No, you might bleed to death if I hit an artery. Let me see – of course. Your knee. Now which one? Left, right, or both? Would you prefer a cane or a wheelchair for the rest of your life?”

“Now wait a minute – “

“Or I could split the difference and make sure you pee sitting down for the rest of your life. Just how much do you like Little Mike, Big Mike?”

Mike’s stomach contracted. There was no reason for him to think that this nutty old broad wouldn’t do exactly what she threatened to do. He had no weapon and she’d incapacitated him. Besides, Mr. Robertson could take care of himself.

He realized that he’d almost waited too long to speak when she pulled back the hammer. “Come now, dearie, I don’t have all day.” She smiled that crazy smile again. “And neither do you.”

Mike lifted his unbloodied hand. “Okay, okay! What do you want to know?”

“The name of the man you report to, dearie, with his address and a description. And I want you to tell me where you get your money and who gets a cut of your money.” She leaned closer and her voice went all grandmother-in-the-kitchen-with-sugar-cookies. “Then I want you to tell me who the Boss of Metropolis is.”

The combined effect of her appearance and her voice and her pistol almost made Mike shudder. This dame was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.

“I don’t know the Boss at all, lady.” Her weapon angled toward his groin. “Wait! Wait just a minute! I don’t know the Boss’ name but I’ll give you the guy I report to! And – and everybody who reports to me! That’s all I got! You gotta trust me on that!”

“Oh, I don’t trust you at all, Big Mike.” Her smile made him shudder. “But if that’s all you know, then it will have to do.”

He took a breath and relaxed for a moment. Then she said – in a cold, dead voice – “Just don’t disappoint me.”

With that, Mike was totally convinced. He opened his mouth and spilled all the beans he had.

>>> Chapter Three

No one would ever accuse Roger Kowalski of being a genius, but he noticed everything that went on around him. He had to. It was his main talent, and despite their friendship it was the main reason Big Mike kept him around. If there was something odd or unusual or out of place in his field of vision, he noticed it, remembered it, and could give a detailed description of whatever had caught his attention days later.

When he left the office to get Mike’s sandwich, he saw the rusty old Ford Thunderbird parked across the street a few doors down, but since it was in front of a known house of ill repute, he figured one of the girls had an early appointment. He also saw the fat old homeless woman limping around across the street, but the area had a revolving cast of homeless people wandering in and around and through it, so he’d noticed her but had thought nothing of it.

The Haitian girl behind the deli counter recognized him and smiled. “The usual, Mr. Roger?”

“You got it, toots. Two extra-longs, a two-liter soda, and a big bag of chips.”

“Thank you, sir! Coming right up!”

As Roger left the sub shop and turned onto the street where Big Mike’s office resided, he saw that the T-bird was gone. It was then that he realized that he hadn’t heard the old car drive up earlier. A car that badly painted and boasting multiple dents but which ran quietly usually meant trouble.

He walked as normally as he could with the load of sandwiches, chips, and soft drink. He also shifted them so he could get to the Browning nine-millimeter semi-auto he carried under his left shoulder. Nothing else in his field of vision seemed out of place, so he walked down the steps to his boss’ office and pushed open the door.

With the pistol in his hand, he looked around the front room. There was a fresh stain on the carpet in the middle of the office which looked like blood, but it wasn’t big enough for someone to have bled out there. He let the door slam behind him, stepped to his right, and called out, “Boss? I got lunch.”

He heard a deep sigh from the next room, followed by the clicking of a pistol being decocked. “Ski?” Big Mike called. “Come on back and give me a hand with this.”

‘This’ turned out to be a bullet hole in Big Mike’s left butt cheek. Without asking any stupid questions, Roger put the food on Mike’s desk and opened the first aid kit. He cleaned the wound as best he could, stuffed sterile cotton in it, and taped a thick gauze pad over it. The only response from Mike as Roger worked was an occasional hiss of indrawn breath.

“You’re gonna need a doctor, boss,” he said. “That bullet needs to come out. I think it’s in there pretty deep.”

Mike turned and gave him a deadpan look. “Oh, you think it’s in there pretty deep, huh? Well, Doctor Kowalski, you’re right, it’s in there deep. And it hurts.”

“Oh, I bet it does, Boss.” Roger put away the kit and helped Mike pull up a pair of sweat pants to replace the blood-soaked slacks. “Uh – mind if I ask you a question?”

Mike sighed. “Go ahead.”

“How long will we be gone?”

Mike frowned at him. “That’s your question?”

Roger nodded. “Somebody shot you, Boss. You’re too good with a gun to shoot yourself, especially there, and that forty-four magnum would have torn your whole butt off. This wasn’t a hit or you’d be dead. You didn’t get off a shot, so whoever it was surprised you.” He shook his head. “Somebody waited till I was gone to come in. This had to be about information. And you’re still alive, so you gave them something good enough to satisfy them, which means that somebody else will know about it soon, which means we can’t stay here.”

Mike nodded. “Yeah, that’s about it. We gotta get going.”

“Now? Shouldn’t we wait until a doctor can look at your – your wound?”

The bigger man almost smiled. “We’re going to Gotham City, just across the river. I know a doctor over there who’ll fix me up, and he’s only about an hour away.”

“Then what? The boys on this side of the river’ll find out what happened and come lookin’ for us, and I don’t wanna be around when they do.”

“I know a guy who knows a guy who has a legit bar. We can get work there, hide out in plain sight, like.”

“Legit work? Mike, are you thinkin’ straight? The Boss will find us inside a week!”

Mike began the laborious process of standing up without bending overmuch at the hip. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Ski. The Boss is gonna have his hands full real soon. C’mon, help me out to the van. I’ll watch while you pack up our necessaries.”

*****

Lois made it back to the bathroom in her crummy hotel room before she threw up.

She retched until there was nothing else to hurl, then bent over the toilet with dry heaves. She finally relaxed enough to slide to the sticky floor and cry.

She’d shot a man. And she hadn’t flinched at it. She’d just pointed the revolver and pulled the trigger and bang! A man had a bullet in his hip, one she’d put there. She hoped he wouldn’t die of either infection or loss of blood.

But she’d had to do it. She’d had no choice and she knew it. There was no other option open to her. Big Mike wouldn’t have talked to a reporter, assuming he’d even have let her leave alive, and just the threat of the pistol would have done nothing. The disguise and the shooting were necessary evils.

So her reaction had to be due to her illness. She was finally showing some real symptoms of the pancreatic cancer eating away at her vitals. She had to rest and get something to eat, and since she’d barfed up all the liquid in her stomach she needed to drink some fluids. The antacids she’d brought with her should help, too.

Now she had another name and another location. Either Big Mike hadn’t known who the Boss was or she hadn’t been able to scare him enough to tell her who it was. But Alan Robertson, criminal attorney and certified public accountant, was her next target. All she needed to do was find him, get him alone somehow, then pull out her pistol and “convince” him to give her the next animal above him in the food chain.

First, though, she needed food, drink, and rest. Working undercover was more stressful than she remembered, and the added tension of having no backup was starting to tell on her. Now that her illness was beginning to bring her down, she needed to speed up her schedule.

But the pillow was so inviting and the bed so welcoming, and she drifted into the arms of Morpheus almost as soon as she achieved horizontalness.

*****

Clark handed the driver two twenties and got out of the cab, which was gone in a cloud of tire smoke before the back door closed completely.

Clark didn’t blame him. This was not the kind of neighborhood anyone would choose to live in if there were any better options, and it was probable that the only worse option was an address in Suicide Slum.

Big Mike’s office address was four houses from the corner where the cabbie had dropped him off, so he set off down the street in that direction. Before he’d taken ten steps, though, the door opened and a normal-sized man appeared with a suitcase in either hand. The man trotted up the steps and tossed the luggage into a cargo van, then he looked in either direction along the street.

When he saw Clark he froze in place.

Clark decided to smile and wave. Big mistake. The guy panicked and yanked a pistol from under his coat and let off two wild shots in Clark’s direction, neither of which came anywhere close. Clark ducked behind an old Chevy pickup parked against the curb and waited.

He heard the man stage whisper, “Mike! Someone’s out here! We gotta go right now!”

“How many?” came the reply.

“Just one!”

“One? Come on, Ski, you know better than that! The Boss isn’t gonna send one guy to take us down!”

“Then who is he? Why’s he here? He don’t belong here, I can tell!”

The quality of the second voice changed. Clark looked around the tire to see a much larger man struggling up the steps with a duffel bag in one hand. “Gee, I don’t know, maybe you could – “ the last two words were delivered in a loud growl “ – ask him!”

“Oh. Yeah. Hey! Buddy! You okay?”

Clark lifted his eyes and peeked over the hood of the pickup. “Yeah, I’m fine. You didn’t come anywhere near me.”

“Yeah, well, you caught me by surprise. Want me to try again?”

The big man spoke again. “Cut it out, Ski! Right now!” The big man who Clark assumed was Big Mike called out, “Hey, mister, come on out. You’re safe.”

Clark rose slowly to his full height. “You’re sure? I don’t want your partner to correct his aim.”

“Naw, he ain’t gonna shoot at you no more! Are you, Ski?”

The man called Ski sighed and put his pistol back under his jacket. “No, I won’t shoot. But what’re you doing here? I still say you ain’t from around here.”

“I’m looking for Lois Lane, a reporter for the Daily Planet.”

Both men frowned in obvious puzzlement. Big Mike said, “Tell me what she looks like.”

“She’s about five-foot-six, brunette with shoulder-length hair, slender, mid-twenties, very attractive and very determined.”

Ski laughed. “Ain’t nobody like that been around here, mister! If she was here I mighta kept her!”

Clark nodded. “Okay. Can I give you my card so you can call me if you do see her?”

Mike shook his head and hobbled to the van. “We’re pullin’ up stakes, mister. If she comes around here we won’t see her cause we won’t be here.”

“I understand. My name’s Clark Kent. If you happen to see her, please call me at the Daily Planet. I won’t tell anyone where I got the information.”

“Silence of the press, right?” said Ski.

Clark smiled. “Something like that. Thanks for your time, guys. Have a good trip.”

“We will. Bye now.”

Clark watched while Ski helped Big Mike ease himself into the passenger seat. The way the big man was holding his leg stiff bothered Clark, so he decided to take a closer look.

When he saw the bullet wound he took off running.

“Okay, Ski, let’s whoaaaaahhhaaahh!”

“Who shot you?” Clark demanded.

Ski yanked out his pistol again and pointed it at Clark’s face in the driver’s window. “Hold it right there! I won’t miss this time!”

Clark snatched the weapon out of Ski’s hand and held it down beside his leg, outside the van where Ski couldn’t reach it. “Look, all I want to do is find Lois Lane! I think she shot you!”

Ski pulled the invisible trigger on his missing pistol and yelped. “Hey! Gimme back my gun!”

“Not until you tell me who shot you! Now talk! Who was it?”

“Some guy from a rival gang,” answered Ski. “They was three or four of ‘em. They woulda killed Mike if he – “

“No.” Everyone stopped and waited for Mike’s next words. He bit his lower lip, then said, “It was some fat old bag lady with short blonde hair. I thought she’d fallen down outside and she suckered me and shot me.”

Ski looked at him as if his favorite hockey player had just announced that he intended to start playing girls’ volleyball. “But – but you – you said – “

“I din’t say nothin’, Ski, I just let you believe it. Sorry, man.”

Clark reached in and tapped Mike on the forearm. “You said a fat old bag lady shot you? Couldn’t she have been wearing a disguise?”

Mike shrugged. “I guess so, but I couldn’t tell. She looked like any old homeless woman with a cart for a closet to me.”

“No!” cried Ski. “No, she was – it had to be her car – she was drivin’ a rusty Ford T-Bird! Had, um, Kentucky plates and a busted right taillight. What paint was still on it was dark blue, but it was red before that. And the car had an old Landau roof that was coming apart.”

Clark’s eyebrows rose. “You sure about that?”

Mike nodded. “If Ski says that’s what he saw, that’s what he saw. Ski, did you see her in the car?”

“No. But the car was parked in front of Julie’s place when I left, and it was gone when I came back.”

“Where’s Julie’s place?”

Ski pointed at the large house across the street and down a few doors. “There,” he said, “the one with the green doors. You know, like that old song, the Green Door? ‘Cept in the song it was a speakeasy and that’s a cat house.” He glowered at Clark. “Now can I have my gun back?”

Clark dropped the magazine out of the pistol and worked the slide to eject the round in the chamber, then lowered the hammer. He reached in and tossed the pistol, single bullet, and the magazine onto the luggage in the back of the van. “Take off, guys. Try not to get shot again.”

Mike nodded and pointed forward with one finger. “Let’s go, Ski.”

Roger wailed, “But I gotta get my gun back!”

“Why, so he can take it away from you again? You can pick it up when we get where we’re going. Now put this thing in gear and get me to that doctor!”

Grumbling under his breath, Roger attacked the ignition key and slammed the van into gear. He left enough rubber on the street to coat a pair of cheap tennis shoes.

*****

Julie peeked out the window and frowned. There had been what she’d thought was a shot about fifteen minutes ago, and just then she’d heard two more she was sure were gunshots. Since none of them had hit the house, she risked a look outside.

A well-built man was standing beside a van, arguing with Mike and Roger, who were inside the van. After some gesturing from all three of them – but no more shooting – the van roared off, leaving the good-looking guy in the charcoal suit and slightly dorky glasses standing in the middle of the street.

Poor guy. He looked like a little lost rabbit. Oh, well, rabbits usually didn’t live long around the wolves who hung around this part of town. It was a rough place full of rough men and nasty women. Julie prided herself on being one of the nastier women around, but she took great pains to conceal her true nature.

Especially to good-looking rabbits who came to her door with wallets stuffed with lettuce. She watched as the rabbit headed directly for the house’s front door.

The knock was more assertive than Julie had expected, so she stopped in her office and secreted a nickel-plated thirty-two automatic in her bra. The weapon was well-hidden, and no man had ever discovered it was there unless she’d wanted him to find it.

She opened the door to the end of the security chain. “Yes? Whom shall I say is calling?”

The man lifted up an ID card of some kind, but Julie ignored it. If this was a raid, it was just about the dumbest one ever to send just one guy. If he was a potential customer, all she cared about was the color and amount of his money.

“I’m looking for a woman. She’s – “

“Well, darlin’,” she drawled. “you done come to the right place. Come on in and we’ll ease your weary mind.”

She unhooked the chain as the man said, “No, I’m looking for a particular woman. She’s about five-six, blonde, a bit heavy, and she was driving an old blue T-Bird. The car was parked in front of your building for a while earlier today.”

“Oh.” Not a customer, then. Maybe he was looking for a runaway girlfriend? But the description didn’t fit any of the girls working at the house. “Sorry, mister, I ain’t seen her.”

“But did you see the car? It’s really important, miss.”

The form of address surprised her. No one had called her “miss” for years, and it angered her for a moment. Then she realized that this man was just trying to be nice to her, whether society said she deserved it or not.

“Um, I dunno when the car left, but yeah, it was here earlier. I didn’t see a woman drivin’ it, though. Sorry.”

He sighed. “That’s okay. It was a long shot anyway. Thanks for trying.”

Such a good-looking rabbit, she thought.

He turned to go and she called out, “Wait! Maybe one of the girls saw something. Come in for a minute.”

The man followed her into the house with only the slightest of hesitation. Julie raced up the stairs and opened door after door until she found one of the girls awake. “Shelly, did you see anyone driving a blue T-Bird this morning?”

Shelly lit a cigarette and blew out a lungful of carcinogens. “Blue T-Bird? Yeah, I did. Thing ran real quiet, like it had a new muffler and a well-maintained motor.” She glanced at her watch. “Fat blonde got in and left about twenty minutes ago, heading downtown.”

“Thanks. And no smoking around the customers! You know the rules.”

Julie turned away before she could ‘officially’ hear Shelly’s expected reply of “Yeah, yeah, stick a tampon in it” and ran down the stairs again. “Mister! There was a fat blonde girl driving the car. It was headin’ towards downtown when it left here. That help you?”

She was rewarded with a thousand-watt smile and a gentle touch on her hand. “It sure does! Thank you so much, Julie!”

He turned and stepped toward the door, then stopped and dug into his pants pocket. “Wait. Here you go.”

She looked at the pair of twenties in his hand and felt ashamed. “No, no, that’s okay, I really didn’t do anything.”

“You gave me valuable information on a story I’m working.”

“Honey, I don’t get paid for talking.”

He smiled again and nodded. “Then how about you take your – your girls on a picnic? On me. I insist.”

She hesitated, then took the cash. “That’s – thank you. You’re very generous.”

“Not at all. My name’s Clark Kent and I work for the Daily Planet. If you need any help a newspaper can give, don’t hesitate to call me.”

He held his first and second fingers on his right hand together and gave her a quick salute with them, then all but jumped out the door. When Julie looked out the window, he was already half-way down the street and looked to be gaining speed.

She blinked and he was out of sight. That was one fast-running man!

Then she chuckled and shook her head. He was gone like a scared rabbit and she hadn’t even kissed him!

It didn’t matter. It was time to get the girls awake and moving. The doors to Julie’s place opened at six, and she didn’t want any of her customers to leave for someone else’s dubious charms.

Still, it would have been nice to just sit and talk with that guy who’d just left. Julie had the feeling that he’d be a perfect gentleman.

She shook her head and frowned. Like any guy would hang around her for anything other than what he could take from her. She’d known too many men for that to happen.

Julie sighed and turned toward the stairs again. It was time to get the girls up and ready for business. And she had to air out Shelly’s room again. Some customers were real particular about cigarette smoke.

She crumpled the two twenties and slipped them into her pants pocket, and any thought of a picnic with her girls evaporated like water on a hot griddle.

>>> Chapter Four

Slowly, Lois’ senses came online. Her eyes opened onto a dark room missing the comforting outlines and scents of her own bedroom. Someone’s kidnapped me again, she thought. They’ll try to get some information from me or make me call for Superman or –

No!

She lurched up and nearly fell off the badly worn mattress. She hadn’t been kidnapped. She was dying of cancer and she’d shot two men and she was hunting for the Boss and she was going to take him down with her last breath—

And she really, really needed to go to the bathroom.

The thrift store sweat suit and the towels and T-shirts and such that she’d stuffed inside the sweat suit made it difficult to complete her necessary errand, but she got there in time. After she flushed the toilet and rinsed her hands – there was no soap in the bathroom – she realized how bad she smelled. Her first thought was to ignore her fetid odor and consider it part of her camouflage, but then a thought tapped her on the shoulder.

After Big Mike’s report, Robertson, her next target, would be on the alert for a homeless, smelly, fat blonde. But he might not be so cautious around a slender, sexy brunette in a short black dress.

That was the ticket. She could use the hair from her chubby blonde disguise to scope out Robertson’s office and home, but her sexy seductress model was the way to get close to him. And the T-bird wouldn’t work for this phase. She could use the car theft skills Jimmy had taught her during the Messenger crisis to pick up a much nicer ride when it was time to move on Robertson.

The plan was risky, of course, and it would take several days to bring it to fruition, but there was no gain without risk. And since she only had a few months to live anyway, the risks weren’t that great. Get arrested? Die in jail waiting for trial. Get killed? Die a little earlier than planned, and almost surely a lot quicker and with less pain. And if Lois Lane feared anything, it was dying alone in a hospital bed in agony against which no drug could defend.

She shook her head at herself. No slow death or hiding until the end for Lois Lane. She’d face death on her own terms and leave a legacy of justice behind her.

*****

Alan Robertson sat at his office desk and frowned at the scribbled note from one of his off-the-books operatives. There was still no word about Mike Pittman or Roger Kowalski. The man who’d checked Mike’s office had found old blood on the floor but no bodies or signs of death. The big man’s van was gone, along with some of his possessions, so apparently they had simply fled.

But that made no sense. Robertson’s contacts in the police department hadn’t heard anything about a case against Pittman or Kowalski. They hadn’t been arrested, they weren’t in any of the District Attorney’s safe houses, and they weren’t anywhere around their usual haunts. So where were they?

More importantly, why were they missing?

It was late in the evening and he was tired. The backlog of collections Pittman had left behind had resulted in more work for two of Robertson’s other subordinates, which was a violation of the guidelines he’d been ‘strongly advised’ to follow in his illegal activities. He understood that by restricting contact between his criminal associates, he would make it harder for law enforcement to use any of them to get to the others and, ultimately, to him. But in order to make his own scheduled payments, someone had to collect from Pittman’s clients, and that meant some additional expenses for him as well as some unavoidable cross-contact in the lower levels.

He had two candidates who might take Pittman’s place, but he had to be careful. The worst thing he could do would be to set up a competition among his associates which might turn violent. Such violence would bring unwanted attention on his own activities, and he was satisfied with appearing to be a mid-level contract attorney and conservative certified public accountant. He might have been a tall, fierce-looking black man with a shaved head and manicured goatee who kept himself in better shape than most his age, but he both hated and feared violence, especially when it might be directed at himself. And the people who reported to him knew that. It made a troubling situation even more dicey than it might have been.

It was time to go home, such as it was. His strikingly beautiful but amoral younger wife, whom he had wed in order to appear more socially acceptable, and who had no inkling of his extra-curricular activities and less interest in them, might or might not be waiting for him. He neither knew nor cared if she’d snagged a new boy-toy. Her freedom to live as she wished was his insurance that she wouldn’t rock the boat for him, so long as he financed her lifestyle. She was just part of the law-abiding disguise he wore. Robertson was just happy that she’d never gotten pregnant.

On top of the Pittman matter was the strange woman with blonde highlights in her brunette hair who seemed to be following him. He’d noticed her at lunch the day before and again today. And today they’d made eye contact as she’d dabbed her mouth with her napkin. As she’d left, she’d paused beside his table for just a few moments and looked directly at him. Her smile and slow wink had completely disconcerted him, and she’d walked away with an exaggerated hip sway before he’d recovered his equilibrium and say anything to her.

Alan Robertson wasn’t a social moron. He’d understood the offer she’d made, and she wondered if she’d been Pittman’s woman for a time. How else could she have known who he was? Could it have been a coincidence, her coming on to him so soon after the Pittman trouble?

He didn’t think it was a coincidence. Like most law enforcement officials, he deeply distrusted that such things actually existed. But he didn’t think this woman was Pittman’s type, either. He would have expected Big Mike to – what was that crude phrase – oh, yes, “hook up” with a loud, brassy, slightly sleazy and barely legal nitwit, not the elegant and obviously intelligent woman he’d seen.

And none of those thoughts helped him in the Pittman matter. Where was the man?

A call to his best police informant – which he knew his supervisor would not think prudent – had yielded nothing. Not only was there no investigation under way which might point to him, the MPD seemed to have no knowledge of his function, much less his existence in the Boss’ hierarchy. His own superior in that chain was a successful marriage therapist who’d declined three different offers to move her local show into wider radio syndication.

Robertson also knew for a fact that she was ruthless with underlings who made serious mistakes. He personally knew of one young man she’d ordered beheaded because he’d blown a neighborhood numbers ring apart through his own greed in selling tickets to a police informer. There was no way Robertson was going to admit to Dr. Jenna Leibowitz that he’d misplaced one of his operatives. Nor did he have any desire to draw attention to himself, either from the police or from Dr. Leibowitz.

There was no point in staying at the office tonight. It was too late to accomplish anything positive. He’d go out the street, call a cab, and go home.

But when he stepped out of the building, he found the fetching brunette in front of his office in a light blue late-model Porsche with the top down, the twelve-cylinder model that could accelerate from zero to awesome in three heartbeats, or so the advertising copy said. She smiled coyly from under her blonde highlights and leaned her shoulder against the driver’s door.

“I thought you were going to spend the night in there, Mr. Robertson. Don’t you think you’d have more fun with me than with your clients’ tax records?”

Many criminals were sex-crazed. Many were open to the illicit opportunities afforded them by their position and their money. And many were just too dumb to look at the big picture and wonder why a beautiful woman with a sports car carrying a high six-figure price and exhibiting a willing attitude would be waiting for him at the end of the day.

Alan Robertson was none of those things. This woman wanted something from him. And she looked distantly familiar somehow, as if he’d seen her photo before but not her.

He stepped closer. “How do you know my name, young lady?”

She smiled wider and tossed her hair away from her exotic eyes with a graceful head flip. “I asked around. Besides, it’s on the building directory. Not exactly a secret.”

“Very well. What is it you want from me?”

She tilted her head to one side and her hair fell artfully to her eyebrows. “I’m in town for a couple of weeks, I’m between photo shoots, male models are generally dumb and boring and self-absorbed if not completely brain-dead, the production people treat us like props that eat and get special treatment for no good reason, and I just thought I’d like to spend some time in the company of a man who knows the difference between a salad fork and a tuning fork.”

“Photo shoots?”

“I’m a magazine model. I do print ads for perfumes, credit cards, shoes, TV shows, whatever they pay me to do.” She straightened and held her right hand out of the car. “My name is Lola Dane, and advertising things is my game.”

Ah. That had to be it, that had to be the reason she looked so familiar. He must have seen her face in some magazine ad somewhere. The name meant nothing to him, but then he didn’t know the names of any of the female artists on Billboard’s Top Forty list or any Oscar-nominated actresses either.

Lola Dane was a beautiful woman. That was a stunning automobile. Alan worked hard, maybe too hard, and perhaps tonight was an opportunity to change that circumstance.

He slowly stepped closer and took her hand gently. “You don’t sound like I imagined a model would sound.”

“Really? How would you have expected me to sound?”

“I would have expected you to sound self-absorbed, self-centered, and quite vapid. That’s not how you sound at all.” He ventured a thin smile. “You have excellent diction, for one thing, along with a very pleasing voice. And you appear to – as you phrased it a moment ago – know the difference between a salad fork and a tuning fork.”

She laughed softly. “I have been hoist upon my own petard, I suppose.”

The laugh and her response clinched it for him. She couldn’t have any connection to his missing operative. No dumb mob girlfriend would be so willing to laugh at herself or to use such an archaic metaphor. “What are you plans for the evening, Ms. Dane?”

“Right now they’re wide open. If you know of a good restaurant where we could be inconspicuous, I’d go for that.”

He smiled. “I know just the place.”

*****

Bill Henderson usually wasn’t a pacing man, especially in another person’s office, but today he couldn’t be still. “C’mon, Perry!” Bill insisted. “There’s got to be some way to contact Lane, some way she’d know it was you and not someone else trying to trap her!”

“Like a secret newsman’s code?” Perry offered. “Sorry, there ain’t no such thing. If Lois doesn’t want to be found—“

“I know, I know! But I have a responsibility to this city to keep people safe!”

“Even criminals, Inspector?” Clark asked.

Henderson whirled to face him. “You knew the answer to that one before you asked it, Kent! I took an oath to enforce the law for the benefit of every person in this city!”

“What about this ‘Boss’ we’ve been hearing rumors about, Bill?” Perry asked. “If Lois is goin’ after this guy, she’s probably not gonna stop until she’s found him.”

“Yeah, you said that already,” Henderson retorted. He stuck one hand in his pants pocket and resumed pacing. “I still don’t understand why you can’t broadcast an appeal for her to come in.”

Clark frowned and sat forward. “Is that what you’d do if you wanted one of your people to come back to base?”

“This is different! My people wouldn’t be out there doing a Lone Ranger impersonation! She doesn’t even have a Tonto to watch her back!”

“Bill, I won’t put that kind of appeal in the Daily Planet. I can’t. Not only would it destroy her effectiveness as an investigative reporter for the rest of her life, it would put half the bad guys in the state on her trail to kill her.” Perry paused. “Look, I know you’re worried about her. So are we. It’s been six days since she had that run-in with Mike what’s-his-name. She’ll pop up soon, I’m sure.”

“And before she pops up like a Lois-in-the-box, will we have another emergency room case, or maybe a body this time? I can pretty much guarantee you we won’t be able to keep that out of the media. We were just lucky Mike and Ski skipped town instead of staying and taking their medicine.”

Clark almost grinned. “I got the impression that they thought their ‘medicine’ would have been too much to take.”

Perry forestalled Bill’s sharp reply by asking, “Have your people found that old T-bird yet? Clark gave you a good description of it. There can’t be that many cars like that in the city.”

Bill turned his piercing gaze to the editor’s layered and much-callused armor. “Both foot and car patrols have been warned to be on the lookout for the car, but there’s not much chance of finding it except by luck. All we’ve found so far is a guy who put an ad in the paper who might have sold her the car. I wish you’d gotten the license number, Clark.”

“I did my best, Inspector. At least we know what car she’s driving.”

Perry frowned and tilted his head. “Shouldn’t the seller have the license number?”

Henderson sighed. “It was a curbside deal. The guy had an expired plate on the car and he never expected the police to come knocking on his door looking for either him or the T-bird. I figure Lois grabbed a plate off some junker in a salvage lot or from a long-term parking garage to lower the chance of getting a ticket.”

Clark nodded. “That sounds like Lois being resourceful.”

Before Henderson could make a pithy comment about Lois’ resourcefulness, Jimmy opened the office door and leaned in. “Inspector, call for you on line three.”

“Tell them I’ll call them back.”

“Uh – it’s the District Attorney’s office, sir. The person on the other end of the call didn’t sound like she was willing to wait.”

“All right, fine, I’ll take it!” Henderson picked up the phone and punched the button as Perry fixed Jimmy with a hound-dog look and asked, “This about Lois, son?”

Jimmy frowned and took a deep breath. “Yeah. And I’m pretty sure none of you will like it.”

Perry pointed at Henderson and mouthed ‘tell me now’ at Jimmy, but the young man shook his head and closed the office door. Clark lifted his shoulders at Perry, who shrugged and pointed at Henderson.

The editor and the reporter listened to one side of the conversation. It had many long pauses and two eyebrow raises in it. Perry couldn’t hear the words the caller spoke, just the tone, but due to his long experience with angry women, he recognized one when he heard her.

“Henderson speaking. Oh? Yes, ma’am. Of course. Yes. No, I did not know. That’s – very interesting. Yes, ma’am. Of course. Thank you for the call. As soon as I know anything. Yes, ma’am, I understand completely. Goodbye.”

Henderson sighed, then put down the phone and grimaced at it. “That was Assistant District Attorney Mayson Drake. Her office has just received new information on the activities of one Lois Lane, fugitive from justice. As you have probably already deduced, Ms. Drake is not at all enamored with the ongoing activities of one Lois Lane, fugitive from justice.”

Perry and Clark leaned forward together. Perry said, “C’mon, Bill, don’t keep us in suspense! What happened?”

Henderson sighed again and put both hands in his pockets. “Two days ago, Lois Lane, fugitive from justice, stole a year-old Porsche from a dealer’s home in Gotham City. She – Wait a minute, Kent! Let me tell the story and you’ll know how we know it was her!”

Clark closed his mouth and made a ‘go-ahead’ gesture with his hand. Henderson continued, “As I said, she stole the Porsche – light blue, twelve cylinder engine if it makes a difference – and used it as a prop to entice Mr. Alan Robertson to ‘go away’ with her for the evening. Unfortunately for Mr. Robertson, his idea of a night on the town with a beautiful model did not intersect with Lola Dane’s idea of the same activity.”

“Lola Dane?” spluttered Clark. “You’re saying that Lois used that name with Robertson?”

“That’s what Robertson says. Now listen close, because the next part is a doozie. I, personally, have never heard of Mr. Alan Robertson, nor was I aware of his position in Metropolis’ criminal hierarchy, but Ms. Drake told me that Lois Lane, fugitive from justice – Ms. Drake repeated that phrase numerous times during our conversation, emphasizing it very strongly each time – took Mr. Robertson to a very nice restaurant two nights ago and plied him with food and drink. She also plied him with Rohypnol, commonly referred to as ‘roofies,’ a date-rape drug which made him very compliant. He therefore did not find objectionable her plan to drive across the river to Gotham City, enter an isolated and empty warehouse on the riverfront, and question him about his ties to the Boss here in Metropolis.”

Perry leaned back as Henderson paused. “Let me guess the rest. She questioned him about his connections and he spilled his guts to her.”

Henderson nodded. “Something along that line. He also picked up a thirty-eight special bullet wound from point-blank range in his left upper arm – Mr. Robertson is right-handed, something Lola Dane asked him early on in her interrogation – and that appears to have been the impetus for much of his soul-baring confession to her, or at least the illegal parts.”

“And how do we know all this?” Clark asked. “Did the forward-thinking and resourceful Lois Lane, fugitive from justice, happen to leave a record of her time with the estimable Mr. Robertson?”

Perry looked at his reporter and said, “Son, you need to save your adjectives for your articles. Don’t want you to run out when you really need one.”

Henderson snorted. “I’m glad you both find this so amusing. Yes, she did leave a tape recording of their session, in which she not only identified herself but gave a pretty complete rundown of Robertson’s criminal activities and his organization, including some interesting details on the missing Mike Pittman and his rackets. Gotham’s DA got it from their caped vigilante, the Bat-guy, or whatever his handle is—“

“He’s Batman,” growled Clark from the back of his throat.

Henderson favored him with a piercing deadpan stare. “Thank you for that informative and timely interlude, Mr. Kent. May I continue?”

“Oh, I hope so, Inspector,” Clark replied.

“I appreciate your generosity. Anyway, the Gotham City DA has generously shared a copy of Robertson’s tape with us for ‘future considerations,’ if you know what I mean.”

“They’ve scratched our back, you’ll need to scratch theirs sometime in the near future,” offered Perry.

“Right in one try. The Gotham City District Attorney’s office is launching a couple of investigations as we speak as a result of the information contained on that tape. Anyway, Robertson now denies everything he said on the tape, but while under the influence of the drug he named the person to whom he reports. We’re currently trying to arrange police protection for this person in exchange for information about the person to whom that person reports.”

Perry frowned. “Pretty detailed, Bill, except for the last bit with all the ‘persons’ in there.”

“Sorry, Perry, but I can’t give you any more than that. Direct orders.”

“Any idea who the next one up the chain is?”

“No, Kent, I don’t, and I couldn’t tell you if I did know.” Henderson moved toward the door. “I have to get back to the office and do some police work. If I get anything we can release for publication, I’ll call you guys first, but don’t hold your breath waiting.”

The door closed behind Henderson as Perry leaned forward. “Well, what do you think about that?”

Clark shook his head. “That’s our Lois. I can’t wait to hear that tape.”

“You may have to wait a good while. The DA’s office won’t release it to the public before Robertson is arraigned, and maybe not even after that.”

“I bet I could get a copy of the transcript. I know one of the clerks at the DA’s office pretty well.”

“You probably could at that.” He sighed deeply. “As interesting as all this has been, it doesn’t get us any closer to finding Lois.”

Clark’s mouth quirked. “Maybe, maybe not. I have an idea that might give us another lead.”

“Does it have anything to do with confronting Alan Robertson?”

Clark’s mouth quirked again, then flattened out. “It might.”

“Uh-huh. Just don’t get arrested, son. I can’t afford to have both of you out of action.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“Good. Now, before you go rattle Mr. Robertson’s cage, do you think you could condescend to finish up the Formula One race cheating story? We need it for the morning sports section.”

*****

The Porsche was gone, abandoned outside a night club in Gotham City that, oddly enough, featured a facade over the entrance which resembled the entrance to a giant igloo. Lois had smoothly slipped into a knot of club patrons walking away from the main entrance, and no one seemed to notice the car. It was easy to slide away from them after a few blocks to pick up the T-bird one more time.

It was time to lose the old Ford too, and she felt a twinge of sadness at the thought. The car had served her well for several days, but its description was surely out on the street by now, even in Gotham. And she didn’t want to get the Batman on her trail, especially if he was real and not just an urban myth.

And now she had another name in the criminal chain, one that had deeply shocked her. Dr. Jenna Leibowitz’ sterling reputation as a marriage counselor spanned the entire state, went as far north as Maine, west into Pennsylvania, and south to Virginia, but apparently all that was just a cover for her real career. If Alan Robertson hadn’t lied to her – and she was certain that he’d been too frightened, too drugged, and too off-balance to lie, especially after she’d put a bullet through his arm – Jenna Leibowitz was the last person between herself and the Boss. So Jenna Leibowitz was her next target.

But Lois needed to vanish for a few days. There was a cab stand just around the corner from the bus station, and she could hang around there as a pudgy blonde for a few hours until there were cabs available after tomorrow morning’s rush hour. The cab could then take her close to the flophouse and to temporary safety. And she would use the time both to plan her approach and rest up after her ordeal.

It was getting easier to shoot them.

And it wasn’t clear to her if that was a good thing or not.

The one thing that was clear to her was that she could never allow her own therapist to know what she knew. Dr. Friskin almost idolized Jenna Leibowitz. She had all of the marriage counselor’s books on her shelf at her office, and Lois knew that several of them were signed. Two of them were even inscribed with personal messages. Friskin would find out eventually, but Lois would be gone by the time any trials rolled around. She didn’t want to die with the memory of disillusioning Dr. Friskin in her mind.

Another thought jumped into her mind. She’d left Robertson alert and terrified, and surely by now he’d relayed his experience to the evil doctor. Getting to Leibowitz now would be no picnic.

But she’d get there. She had to.

She still had a few weeks to live and one last big story to chisel on her tombstone as her epitaph.

*****

Perry glanced out his open office door and spotted what he interpreted as an angry Lex Luthor bearing down on him. He saw the White Shadow – Nigel St. John – disengage from Luthor’s heel and lean over Clark’s shoulder to say something to him.

Then Luthor was in his office and closing the door.

“Why do I have to hear from the police about Lois Lane’s activities? I thought we both understood that we would share all information about her.”

Perry shrugged. “I’m sorry, Mr. Luthor, sir. What I have is information about her from the police which I was told not to share with anyone. It was definitely not for publication.”

Luthor put both hands on the desk and leaned his face close to Perry’s. “Don’t forget, Mr. White, that you now work directly for me. And when someone works for me, he or she does exactly what I instruct him or her to do.”

“Like Lois?”

Luthor snapped back as if a wasp had stung his upper lip. “I am not responsible for Ms. Lane’s activities of the past fortnight. I am attempting to locate her in order to help her. After all, she and I are – seeing each other.”

“You mean you were seeing each other.”

“The status of my relationship with Lois Lane is not the subject of this conversation.”

“Maybe not, but I think it’s pertinent. She hasn’t confided in you any more than she has in me. I can understand her not contacting me because I’m her boss, but you were supposed to be a lot closer to her.”

“We are closer!”

Perry’s eyebrows rose and fell. “I really don’t think so, Mr. Luthor.”

Luthor’s eyes narrowed. “I can see that you do not intend to cooperate with me. Very well. I can always reassign more of your duties to Chip.”

Perry nodded and stood. “Yes, you could do that. But I wonder how many of my reporters would pay any attention to a young punk like Chip. Clark Kent is probably the nicest guy on the Planet’s payroll, but he’d eat your little Chipster for breakfast and have room left for a bag of bagels with cream cheese.”

“I am not in the habit—”

The argument was interrupted by a crash from outside. They both turned to see Nigel St. John rising up from behind a desk to straighten his tie. A few paces from the other side of the desk stood an obviously angry Clark Kent, his body turned to one side and his left arm extended slightly as if ready to defend himself.

And his fists were clenched.

Nigel squared off about five feet from Clark and said something Perry couldn’t hear, and before he could leave his office to stop the beating Clark was sure to get, Luthor burst through the door and jumped between the combatants.

“Not here, Nigel,” Perry heard, “and not now. We have another mission we have to complete first.”

Nigel, his breath hissing through his teeth, appeared not to be aware of his boss. “Nigel,” Luthor repeated, “not now! Maintain priorities at all times.”

Nigel’s eyes slowly lost their angry brightness and he nodded once. “This is not over, Mr. Kent. We will continue our conversation at a later date.”

Clark’s arms had relaxed to his sides and his hands were open, but his feet were still poised to move quickly. “Any time, Mr. St. John. You know where to find me.”

In a change from their usual manner, Luthor followed Nigel out of the newsroom, so close behind him that Luthor seemed to be pushing Nigel. Perry let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding as the elevator doors closed.

He turned to Clark. “You know you’ve just made yourself an enemy, don’t you?”

“Those two had already made themselves my enemies. I just dug the line in the sand a little deeper.”

“Uh-huh. About that – the line in the sand thing – what just happened?”

“Nigel hinted very strongly that I not only knew where Lois was and what she was doing, I was giving her logistical and financial assistance.”

“That’s stupid. We know she cleaned out her savings account the day she shot that gun dealer. And Luthor knows everything that goes on up here. He probably has people watching all of us.”

Clark nodded. “Nigel got mad and let something slip.” He turned to face his boss. “Just before I pretended to lose my temper, he said something about Lois climbing the food chain.”

“The food chain? What the heck does that mean?”

Clark grinned ever so slightly. “It means that Luthor – or at least Nigel – knows more about what Lois is trying to do than he’s letting on. It means that he has some definite connection to the Boss that Lois is hunting.”

Perry’s eyes narrowed. “You mean – are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Clark’s voice dropped even lower. “That Luthor is the Boss in Metropolis? I don’t know and I can’t prove it from the little that Nigel said. But I am sure that Luthor knows who that person is and what he or she plans to do in the next few days.”

Perry sighed. “That means that Lois is in more trouble than we thought.”

Clark’s hangdog look would have depressed Elvis. “Isn’t she always, chief?”

>>> Chapter Five

The pain in Lois’ stomach woke her before sunrise and she barely made it to the nasty toilet before she threw up. It hurt down deep in her belly this time, and at least half of her time on her knees was spent dry retching. Incongruously, she remembered her sister Lucy referring to her current activity as ‘calling Ralph on the porcelain telephone.’ It didn’t surprise her at all that she didn’t think it was as funny today as it had been in the past.

Lois finally finished heaving and crawled to the tub on her hands and knees. Too weak to stand, she turned on the cold water and let it run over her head for a while, then rinsed out her mouth as best she could.

Cancer is not a fun way to die, she mused.

That microwave burrito she’d eaten the night before probably didn’t help, either. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t have food poisoning for the next few days. She needed the time to plan her next move, the move against Dr. Jenna Leibowitz.

The doctor would be forewarned and on alert for a young woman coming into her private life at this time. There was no safe way to confront her directly, so Lois had to approach her from a different angle.

There was too much Lois didn’t know about the minutia of Leibowitz’ criminal activities. Lois couldn’t risk showing up as a potential criminal associate; she’d get tripped up in the first five minutes. Any new patients would receive the strictest screening now. Her staff would be on the alert for someone trying to slip in as a new counseling patient, and Lois didn’t have a partner to pose as her spouse. According to the very helpful Alan Robertson, Leibowitz didn’t see individual patients, only couples, and she doubted that she could con the doctor’s staff into letting her slip through the screening –

Wait a minute.

Staff.

Leibowitz was still a licensed counselor. She had to maintain her facade of seeing patients. And she couldn’t do all that grunt work by herself. She had to have legitimate staff who would set her schedule, call patients, collect fees, contact insurance companies, set up payment plans, type up her non-confidential notes, and so forth. Most of them probably had no idea what she did in her spare time.

That was the key. The doctor’s staff was the way in. She had to begin soon.

As soon as her stomach stabilized and she could get up off the bathroom floor, that is.

Just then her belly once again shoved against its fleshly restraints and tried to send its nonexistent contents spewing out to freedom. She lay over the edge of the tub and tried to time her breathing around her dry heaves.

Cancer was truly a sucky way to die. She’d rather go out with a bullet in her head.

Just – not quite yet. The job wasn’t finished. And Lois hated to leave things undone.

*****

Nigel’s daily report was incomplete. Lex couldn’t believe it, couldn’t quite credit it, but it was true. For the first time since Lex had met him, Nigel had been knocked mentally off-balance by an opponent.

“Nigel, my good man,” oozed Lex, “please sit down and stop pacing. You’re allowing Kent’s lucky punch to put you off your game. I’m sure you’ll devise a suitable reply when the time comes.”

Nigel took a seat and looked away. “If only,” he muttered.

“If only what?”

Nigel’s eyebrows rose as if he’d been surprised by the question. “Nothing, sir. I hadn’t realized that I’d spoken aloud.”

“But you did. You’re obviously distressed by something. I ask you to share it.”

Nigel drew himself up. “It is – of a personal nature, sir.”

Lex pulled his chair closer to Nigel’s. “I understand. I truly do not wish to poke around in your personal life. I respect your privacy. But whatever this is has affected your job performance.”

“Sir! I respectfully – “

“You told me three times about Jenna Leibowitz’ collections being down over the past two weeks, Nigel. You also left out the details of Alan Robertson’s recorded confession. I know that much of it won’t be admitted as evidence, but we’ll just have to—”

“It was Lois Lane!” Nigel blurted out.

Lex turned his head slightly and looked at Nigel out of the corners of his eyes, trying to divine a fresh perspective on his longtime right-hand man. He carefully reappraised the man without whom he might have failed in many of his enterprises.

And what he saw both surprised and dismayed him.

“Nigel,” said Lex, “I believe that your – ah, lack of enthusiasm, shall we say – for my plan to marry Lois Lane has clouded your judgment. I realize that she is not your favorite person, and I understand why. But I still plan to make her my wife.”

Nigel all but leaped to his feet. “But she has disrupted our operations! She may, at this very moment, be closing in on Dr. Leibowitz and her business! No one has heard from the Lane woman in five days! From the doctor it is only one short step to you! She has placed you in personal peril!” He turned and, with a visible effort, calmed himself. “Sir, if you will allow me to proceed with the original plan to bomb the Daily Planet, I’m certain that Miss Lane would reveal herself to you. I’ve no doubt that she would, as you planned, submit herself to you both professionally and personally.”

Lex stood and slowly padded to the front of the desk, then sat down on the edge. “You might be right about Lois, Nigel. But I firmly believe that our backup plan, which admittedly was thrust upon us, has a higher probability of success than the original one. Once Lois learns that she does not and never did have terminal cancer, she will let me know where she is so that I might extricate her from the resulting dire circumstances.”

“Sir, she is an investigative reporter! She will never be anything other than that!”

“I don’t believe that’s true, Nigel. I do, however, believe that anyone – including Lois – can be induced to ignore his or her ethical standards if the potential reward is sufficient, and I submit Lois’ current activities as evidence. I also believe that after all the violence and pain Lois has inflicted on others, she will be very grateful for my help in making the consequences of her actions go away. Then, because she will be very, very grateful to me, and because she will have tasted the illicit wine of such activity, she will be more than happy to become my wife and enjoy my protection.”

Lex leaned back against the desk and smiled wide. “Everyone has a price, Nigel. Everyone, including Lois Lane. She has taken her first steps along the path of unrighteousness. And, in time, she will become as amoral and driven by pure success as I am. When that happens, she and I will truly be perfectly matched. And she will stand beside me as we rule first this city, then the state, and then the entire nation.”

He saw Nigel’s objections before he voiced them. And he knew that Nigel knew what he would say. So, like a perfect butler, Nigel swallowed his words, stood, and calmly took his leave.

*****

“Kent!” shouted Perry. “Come in here!”

Clark knew it had to be about Lois. For that matter, the entire news staff knew it had to be about Lois. Even Ralph had made a crack about her the day before, suggesting that she’d decided to go into business competing with The Boss instead of trying to track him down.

Clark had barely restrained Jimmy from flattening the older man. Then he’d taken Ralph aside and explained to him, very calmly and carefully, that any more such opinions which Ralph voiced in Clark’s hearing would be met with firm and possibly unrestrained enthusiasm.

Ralph had puzzled through the double-talk for almost fifteen seconds before he’d paled and haltingly promised Clark that any mention of Lois Lane was off limits for him. Clark had barely seen the man in the office since.

Clark didn’t bother to close Perry’s office door as he breezed in. “What’s up, Chief? Something new about Lois?”

Perry put his face in his hands and fell back in his chair. “No. Not from the police, not from any of my contacts, and not from any of the known criminals she’s already shot.”

Clark sighed. “I wish I had something.”

Perry gave him a hound dog stare. “Not even from the fish guy?”

“What fish guy?”

“The fish guy, Larry Largemouth or something. Lois’ snitch.”

“Largemouth?” Then it hit him. “Oh, you mean Bobby Bigmouth.”

“Right, right. I keep getting him mixed up with largemouth bass. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” Perry leaned forward. “Have you even heard from him since Lois shot off that guy’s toe?”

“Walt McNally. Bobby’s called me twice since then, and both times it was to ask what I knew. I don’t think he has anything.”

“Nuts. If only we had some idea where she’s hiding!”

“Well – if it helps your peace of mind any, I asked Superman to keep an eye out for her. He hasn’t seen her either. It’s as if she’s dropped off the face of the earth.”

Perry let out a long breath. “Okay, let’s review and see if we can come up with something. You write this down, Clark, because I’m not sure I’ll remember this conversation in a couple of hours.”

Clark hesitated. This exercise would help to organize Perry’s thoughts and help them find Lois. But would finding Lois help her or hurt her? Was she actually going after the Boss, as they had all surmised, or was there something else going on, something more sinister? Was Lois still one of the good guys? Or had she crossed the line and become a criminal?

And what was her relationship with him now? Luthor still thought of her as his almost fiancée. Lois had never given Clark any real indication that she cared about him the way he cared about her, other than a few times when one or both of their lives had been threatened.

But maybe she’d just been reacting to the stress of the moment. Maybe she didn’t care about him the way he cared about – no, be honest, he told himself, you love her. And since her first actions after being convinced she had only a few months to live didn’t include coming to him for any reason, the only logical conclusion was that she didn’t love him back.

That hurt. A lot.

He decided to write down Perry’s points and ponder his relationship with Lois at a later date. “Ready, Chief.”

“Good. Number one, Lois is very good at disguises. Ha! You should have seen her in the office that day just before you came on board. Mustache, short hair, coveralls, mechanic’s hat, she looked just like a slender young man.

“Number two, she’s willing to go undercover and take all kinds of risks. If those car thieves had figured out who she was and what she was doing they might have killed her. She knew that and still pushed ahead.

“Number three, she thinks she’s only got a few months to live. That’s bound to push her to take even more chances than she ordinarily would.

“Number four, she’s out to hunt down The Boss. We’ve been hearing vague reports of someone in charge of almost all the crime in the city for several months, and every once in a while Lois will pull the file and go through every scrap in there.”

“I’ve seen her do that, Perry. She even asked me to go through it with her one day. There’s a lot of information in there, but it’s too scattered and unconnected to build an investigation on, whether it’s us or the police or the DA’s office. You can’t even pick a starting point from anything in there.”

“Not legally, no, but Lois is obviously doing this outside the law. It’s going to bite her in the backside when she finds out she’s not dying and she has to face the music.”

Both men were silent for a long moment. Then Clark directed a stare at the pad of paper he held and said, “You’re assuming that we’ll find her before someone kills her.”

Perry fixed him with a sad glare. “I have to assume that, son. I couldn’t get up in the morning if I thought otherwise.” He sighed deeply. “Although I’m not sure I’d rather see that day than see the day when Bill Henderson tells me that Lois has killed someone.”

Clark’s autonomic responses weren’t the same as a normal human’s, but he still felt his face grow pale.

*****

Brett Cumberland dropped the psych reference book on the hardwood floor and the slap it made sounded like a gunshot. He looked around sheepishly and muttered, “Sorry. It slipped.”

Zoe, the new clerical intern from the local secretarial school whose last name he hadn’t bothered to learn, frowned at him and stalked away. Brett thought she was being overly dramatic and serious to impress either Dr. Leibowitz or Karen Carter, the doctor’s receptionist and personal assistant. He didn’t think he liked Zoe, but he had to admit that she was already better at her job than Tiffany had been. Brett remembered how upset Karen had been when Zoe had walked in four days ago just before noon, announcing that the school had sent her to replace Tiffany, who had simply failed to show up that day. Karen had been glued to her desk ever since then, watching for Zoe to make a mistake, just as she had been this morning.

Except Karen wasn’t at her desk. She’d apparently jumped at the sound of the book’s impact, all the way from her chair to the relative safety of a metal filing cabinet. And Dr. Leibowitz had thrown herself on the floor behind the couch in the reception room. As each woman cautiously raised her head and glanced around the room, they reminded Brett of a Whack-A-Mole game at the local kiddie pizza place.

Too bad he didn’t dare laugh at them.

Dr. Leibowitz was first to her feet. “Please – please be more careful in the future, Brett,” she intoned in a shaky voice. “We wouldn’t want to alarm our patients. Some of them have been under fire before and that – well, we don’t want to set them back, now do we?”

He nodded slowly as Karen pushed herself off the floor and staggered to her desk. “Of course, Doctor,” he assured her. “I’ll be more careful.”

“See that you do. Karen, when is my next appointment?”

Karen fumbled with the computer for several seconds before telling Doctor Leibowitz that the next couple was due in one hour and forty-two minutes. The doctor nodded sharply and hurried into her office. Brett picked up the book from the floor and replaced it on the shelf from which he’d knocked it, then gathered the insurance files on which he was supposed to verify coverage. Except for their reactions to the book he’d dropped, things looked almost normal.

But they weren’t. Both the doctor and the receptionist had been on edge for the past four days, jumping at every sound and flinching away from every new patient, especially the female ones. Karen had spent at least an hour in the doctor’s office three days earlier, the day after Zoe had joined them, and while he hadn’t made out any of their conversation, he could hear the tension in their raised voices.

And Zoe was the most competent intern he’d ever seen. She spoke only when spoken to and always handed Dr. Leibowitz or Karen exactly the form or letter or document they asked for, sometimes almost before being asked for it. And nothing seemed to bother her, not loud noises or unexpected changes in appointments or patients showing up early or late or the police who’d come to see the doctor on her first day. She just took everything in stride. She was at the office waiting for one of them to unlock it in the morning and always walked out with whoever locked up at night.

She was hot, too, or she would be if she dressed a little nicer. Brett wasn’t a big fan of red hair, either, although he did like her long below-the-shoulder tresses. Nor did he like the way her squared black plastic frames covered the upper part of her face. Her voice was a bit on the nasal side and she didn’t seem to understand that humans had to blink at least once an hour. And she always ate lunch by herself. She seemed to favor bland food and milk, as if she had a stomach condition she didn’t want to aggravate.

He couldn’t figure out how old she was, either. She looked to be twenty-five or maybe even a little younger, but she acted older, like someone who’d been through a lot in her life and was feeling the weight of her years. The girl was a puzzle, all right.

And figuring her out was above his pay grade.

He took the piles of files to his office, shut the door, sat down, and began dialing insurance companies. This was the part of the job he disliked the most, mindlessly calling insurance companies and talking to equally uninspired drones at the other end of the line. These were the times when he almost – not quite, but almost – envied his brother Bill and his job at the medical testing lab. At least Brett made a decent salary.

Brett didn’t know that he was about to miss the most exciting thing ever to happen in that office as he dialed and checked off boxes on his paperwork. Of course, several days later, when he finally did find out, he decided that being endangered by people with guns and hypodermic needles exceeded his desire for excitement and he quit his job on the spot.

*****

Karen bent down and pointed to the printed schedule on her boss’ desk. “No, Doctor, we have Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy scheduled at two tomorrow. We can’t put them off again, even for the Trumps. We’ve already bumped the Kennedys three times this month.”

Dr. Leibowitz pressed her lips together and sighed. “You’re right, Karen. It’s just that having David and Yvette Trump would be a wonderful advertisement for the practice.”

Karen smiled slightly. “We can’t advertise using any patients’ real names – “

“But we can let it be known among the finest social circles in both Metropolis and Gotham City – quite discreetly, of course – “

“Of course.”

The doctor smiled. “It could be hinted that the Trumps are seeing us professionally. And any perceived improvement in their relationship would be a boost for the practice.”

“I agree. But it won’t do that much good if we lose Chester and Patricia Kennedy over it. The negative publicity could outweigh the positive.”

“Hmm. That’s true. Let me see the files on both couples, please.”

Karen stood and called out, “Ms. Cunningham, please bring me—“

“The Kennedy and Trump files, Doctor.”

Karen smiled momentarily at the red-headed intern. “Thank you, Ms. Cunningham. That was very efficient on your part. That’s all for now.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Both women behind the desk slowly looked up to see a large-caliber revolver in Zoe’s right hand. Karen quickly glanced around the office and saw that the door to the reception area was closed and locked.

Karen lifted her hands and cautiously straightened up. “Zoe, what are you doing?”

The redhead waved the pistol at the doctor. “Lift your hands, too, Doc. Besides, the shotgun under the desk isn’t loaded.”

That statement shocked Karen far more than the presence of the pistol had. It meant that Zoe, or whoever she really was, had taken the time to examine the office and neutralize their defenses. It made her wonder who the girl was working for.

And what she intended to do with them.

“Please stand up, both of you,” said Zoe. “I want you to stand on this side of the desk, your hands locked behind your heads and your backsides leaning against the front edge.”

The two women complied. “Feet out a bit more, please,” Zoe said. “I don’t want to shoot either of you because you suddenly jumped at me in a vain attempt to be heroic. And move further away from each other. That’s better.”

Zoe’s nasal voice had begun to grate on Karen’s ears even more than before. “What do you plan to do with us?” Karen asked.

Zoe tilted her head to one side and smiled. “My, that was fast. You’re already past the ‘you’re a junkie looking for drugs’ stage and even the ‘we don’t keep cash in the office’ stage. You’ve assumed that I’m here for some purpose other than robbery. Have you considered that I might be a hired assassin?”

She leaned closer and pressed the pistol against the underside of Karen’s right breast. Karen stopped breathing for a long moment. “Ever seen how much damage this weapon can do at close range, Karen? It makes a hole going in that’s about the size of a dime, but the hole it makes going out is bigger than a silver dollar. I could pull this trigger and paint the wall and ceiling with the tissue from inside your boob. At least, I think that’s what would happen.” The redhead smiled evilly. “Shall we test my hypothesis?”

“No!” cried Leibowitz. “Please don’t – don’t shoot us! We’ve never done anything to you!”

“No? Are you sure about that?” Zoe stepped back and Karen’s lungs slowly refilled. “Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? Both of you kick off your shoes. Now.”

They both pushed their shoes toward Zoe. “Now, Karen, since you’re wearing a very nice pantsuit, how about you lose your slacks and pantyhose?”

“Wh – what? Why?”

“Doctor, you’re the psychologist, you tell her why.” Leibowitz pressed her lips together and didn’t respond. “No? Then I will. Modern Americans feel much more vulnerable when they aren’t wearing the amount of clothing they feel appropriate to a given situation. If I take your pants, you’re far less likely to do something stupid that I’d have to shoot you for. And I’ll know for sure that you aren’t carrying any concealed weapons. Now drop them and toss them next to your shoes.”

Karen was scared now. She could face a sane person with a weapon, but facing a crazy woman with a pistol terrified her. She cut her eyes to Jenna Leibowitz, mutely pleading for help, but saw only a granite mask excluding her.

She would have to face this maniac alone.

Karen unfastened her trousers and let them fall the floor. “Kick them over on your shoes,” grated Zoe. “That’s right. Now the hose.”

Karen hesitated. “I – I’m not wearing anything under them.”

Zoe shrugged. “I don’t care. Will it help if I promise not to take any pictures?”

Karen’s ire flared. “You stupid little – “

The ‘snick’ of the pistol’s hammer being pulled back stopped her.

“Just drop them, Karen, and don’t give me any back talk. Because I just might shoot you and leave you bleeding on the floor the next time you don’t do what I tell you to do.”

Karen looked into Zoe’s green eyes – contact lenses, she realized – and nodded. After a moment, her hose joined her pants in the pile on the floor.

“Hands back behind your head, Karen. Link your fingers together. That’s it. And lean back against the desk like before. Feet apart. Good. Now, Doctor Leibowitz, it’s your turn.”

“This is a one-piece dress,” growled the doctor.

“So it should come off easily. Or should I shoot it off?”

“No! I – I’ll take it off.”

Leibowitz fumbled with the zipper in the back for a moment, then slipped it down and let the dress fall to the floor. “Much better,” smiled Zoe. “Now the slip and the hose.”

Leibowitz hesitated, then pulled the slip over her head. She balled it up and threw it on the floor beside her shoes.

Zoe whistled. “Very nice, Doctor. Garter belt and nylons instead of plain old pantyhose. That brings a number of interesting questions to mind, if only I had time to ask them. Come on, unsnap the nylons and pull them off.”

Karen expected Jenna to show some kind of resistance, a gesture or a growl or even a fierce scowl, but she saw none of that. Jenna meekly did as she was told.

It was disappointing.

Then Zoe gestured with the pistol again. “Okay, you two, turn around and reach over the desk. Grab the far edge and stay that way. Oh, Doctor, the little thirty-two semi-auto isn’t in your upper right drawer any more, so don’t try to grab for it.”

Karen tried for a moment to preserve her modesty in that position, but reluctantly gave up after she realized it was impossible. The edge of the desk was too far to grab, but she did hook two fingers of each hand on it. After all, dying wasn’t on her to-do list for the day.

Then Zoe did something Karen would never have expected.

The cold metal of the pistol’s muzzle was suddenly thrust against her bare backside. Karen jerked, then forced herself to remain still.

“Very good, Karen. Now move just your left hand to the small of your back.”

Karen felt Zoe wrapping something around her wrist, then the girl said, “Now the other hand.” Whatever it was quickly encased her right wrist also. Zoe then grabbed Karen’s hair and pulled her upright, then pushed the muzzle of the pistol into her ear.

“Very slowly now, turn one quarter turn to the right and kneel. That’s it, facing away from the good doctor, an adjective I use quite loosely. Now stay there and don’t move or I’ll shoot something you don’t want shot.”

Zoe then gave Jenna the same instructions as she had Karen. Karen took the opportunity to test the wrappings on her hands. It wasn’t rope or duct tape, so what did—

It was their hose. Zoe was tying their hands with their own hosiery. And Karen knew from experience that you could hang a large person with a nylon stocking. They weren’t going to break out of these restraints by themselves.

Karen felt her hands pulled backward roughly, and she realized that Zoe was tying their hands together. Then a length of nylon encircled her throat and she flinched hard, trying to move away.

Zoe rapped her head above the ear with the pistol barrel, and Karen saw stars for a moment. Zoe’s voice came from far away. “Now you’re ready to answer my questions.”

Karen’s vision finally cleared and she looked around. She could feel Jenna’s fingers exploring the knots that held them, and she saw Zoe pull a chair to the middle of the room so she could watch both of them.

“Hope you two aren’t altogether uncomfortable, despite almost being in the altogether together,” the redhead chuckled. “But now that you’re ready, you’re going to answer some questions.”

Jenna’s voice assumed the familiar counselor’s soothing tone. “Zoe, you can’t believe that you’ll get away with this. You’re getting yourself in a lot of trouble just to steal patient information.”

Karen relaxed slightly. This was a bad situation, but Jenna could talk them out of it. Jenna could talk to anybody about anything. And surely Zoe wasn’t going to kill either of them over their files.

Zoe’s smile was predatory instead of amused. “I guess it would be if I were after patient information. Someone with an evil mind could steal those and probably blackmail any number of people in the city. That is, if that was what I was after.”

“Oh? If that’s not what you want, what are you looking for? You know you don’t have that much time. Brett will be finished soon, and I don’t think he’s wearing nylon hose today.”

Zoe nodded. “That’s probably true, Doc. But if he does stick his head in here, the first thing he’s going to see is you two half-naked and tied up. It’s a frat boy’s dream come true, don’t you think? And I’ll have time to do whatever I need to do to neutralize him.”

Karen sighed. She knew she should have fought for her pants.

“That’s pretty good thinking on your part, Zoe,” purred Jenna. “But I don’t believe you’ll actually shoot either of us if we don’t cooperate.”

Zoe leaned forward. “Alan Robertson didn’t think so either.”

Karen nearly lost control of her bladder at the mention of Robertson’s name. She’d all but demanded that she and Jenna take what money they could carry and head west when the news of Robertson’s shooting and subsequent arrest had broken. The news reports hadn’t revealed much detail, but it was obvious to Karen that Robertson had talked freely, especially since he’d been released so quickly. Jenna had refused to leave, insisting that they had in place sufficient protections, both legal and not so legal, to keep them safe.

Apparently she’d been mistaken.

Now all Karen could anticipate was a permanent scar from a bullet and an extremely painful injury which would require surgery to repair and long hours of therapy to fully recover from. And she wasn’t likely to get that kind of care behind bars.

“I’ll tell you!” Karen blurted. “I’ll tell you everything!”

“No!” hissed Jenna. “You’ll ruin everything! You can’t mrgluph grrrrpgpg!”

Karen didn’t know what Zoe had shoved into Jenna’s mouth, but whatever it was it had shut her up. Zoe then knelt down beside Karen and allowed the pistol to point in the general direction of the floor between Karen’s knees. “I think we’re going to have a very nice conversation, Karen. Don’t you?”

Karen nodded sharply, hoping not to alarm whoever this frightening young woman really was.

The redhead smiled again. “Now let me show you something.”

She reached into her outer jacket pocket and produced two capped syringes. “Doctor, you’ll want to hear this. One of these needles contains a double dose of a fairly powerful narcotic. It’s pretty much guaranteed to put you to sleep for hours. The other is – well, let’s just say that the sleep that one will give you will be much deeper. And, I’m afraid, very permanent.”

Karen’s eyes widened at the sight of the syringes and she gasped. She could feel Jenna stiffen and stop working on the knots holding their hands.

“If you answer me truthfully, Karen, I won’t have to use these. But if you don’t – or if I don’t believe you or if you try to lie to me – then I’ll have to squirt one of these into Dr. Leibowitz’ butt and the other into yours. And I’m really sorry, but I was so tired that I completely forgot to label them when I made them up last night, so I really don’t know which one is the sleepy dose and which one is the even more sleepy one.”

Jenna whimpered against her gag and shivered. Karen sat back on her haunches and pulled her knees against her chest. “Please,” she begged, “please d-don’t use them! I swear I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Zoe tilted her head and smiled. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, if you promise to tell me the truth every time I ask you a question, we won’t have any problems. Okay?”

Karen looked down past the nylon noose pressing on her throat and took a shuddering breath. “Yes!” she whispered fiercely. “No – no problems at all.”

Zoe touched the pistol barrel to the floor between Karen’s feet, then slowly lifted the pistol until the front sight touched Karen’s bare crotch. Then she smiled. “That’s good. Because you don’t want to disappoint me, do you?”

Karen could feel her navel trying to retreat into her stomach. “No! I – I mean, no, I d-don’t want to disappoint you!”

Zoe leaned back on her heels and took the pistol away. “That’s just fine. Let’s start with some simple things and work up to the really important ones in a few minutes, okay?”

Karen knew that Jenna would probably have killed her at that moment if she could, and that Jenna’s boss would almost surely order it if Jenna didn’t. But Karen also knew that Zoe – or whoever she was – was at least as likely to shoot her right here and now. The girl wasn’t just behaving erratically, she was probably sociopathic. She might or might not take pleasure in killing them, but she didn’t seem to care about the moral issues involved.

Laying aside the moral questions one might ask about Karen’s own activities over the past few years, she didn’t want to die, not ever, and certainly not while half-naked in her own office and tied up like a calf at slaughter. Whether Intergang or some Mob boss had sent Zoe or she was a loose cannon operating on her own didn’t matter at this point. Karen had only a slim chance to survive until her next birthday, and answering this certifiably insane girl’s questions was the best shot she had – the only shot, in fact – at living out the day.

Karen took a shuddering breath and gazed into Zoe’s green plastic lenses. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything connected with the Boss to whom you report.” The redhead’s smile widened almost maniacally and her head tilted to one side. “Why don’t you just start talking? If I think you’ve missed something, I’ll ask you to clarify.” She leaned closer and touched her lips to Karen’s ear and softly whispered, “Do try to be complete. I really hate asking for clarification. I tend to get—“ she lowered the hammer on the pistol “—impatient.”

Karen started talking. And she didn’t intend to stop until she’d told all she knew.

>>> Chapter Six

When Lois finished asking Karen all the questions to which she needed answers, she pulled out the two syringes she’d purchased on the street and injected each of the women in the hip with a five milligram dose of Scopolamine mixed with a fifteen-cubic-centimeter one-percent saline solution. Despite her threat to Karen, both doses were as safe a knockout drug as she could get from the street vendor she’d met the previous night, and as long as neither woman had a pre-existing heart problem, they’d be fine the next day.

She hoped so, anyway. She’d used all the Rohypnol she could get on Robertson.

If she hadn’t insisted that they lie down first, they would have fallen over. The surgical anesthesia drug hit both of them like a runaway truck and they were unconscious in seconds. And according to the pusher from whom she’d bought the doses, their short-term memories would be suppressed. Whatever they remembered, it would be fragmentary and unclear, assuming they remembered anything for the previous few hours.

She still felt dirty from the grin on the dealer’s face when he’d sold her the date-rape drug. He hadn’t said anything to her, he’d just laughed cruelly. But it had to be done if the Boss was going to face justice sometime before Lois closed her eyes for the last time.

Lois tucked a couch pillow under each woman’s head and made sure they were breathing easily. Then she removed the stockings from around their necks and wrists and straightened their hair. She folded their clothing neatly and stacked it on top of the desk. She amused herself by imagining how the women would try to figure out what had happened to them.

Her pistol slid easily into her purse, along with the micro-recorder she’d used to tape Karen’s answers to her questions. She was glad not to have fired her weapon this time, but only because it would have made her escape more difficult. And she didn’t want anyone interfering with her when she mailed this tape to the DA.

Or, on second thought, maybe there was another way to get this information to them. She’d have to think about it later.

She unlocked the office door and slipped through, then closed it firmly. Brett was still in his office making calls, so she tapped on his door and waited for him to tell her to come in.

“Dr. Leibowitz wants you to knock on her door twenty minutes before the next patient comes. Karen may be in there with her, so you’ll need to answer the phones, too.”

Brett frowned. “Where will you be?”

“I have some errands to run, so I’m going for an early lunch. I should be back before the next couple arrives.”

She could tell that Brett didn’t like it, but he nodded sharply. “Fine. Leave the door open so I can see anyone who wanders in.”

“No problem. See you later.”

She waltzed out as if she owned the place. She wished she could see Brett’s face when he discovered those two half-naked women out cold on the floor in the doctor’s office.

The elevator was empty when the doors opened for her on the sixth floor. She pulled off the wig in the elevator and stuffed it in her oversized purse. The third-floor ladies’ room gave her a place to straighten her hair, lose the wig in the trash can, and turn her jacket inside out to show the tan pattern instead of the solid black. The green contacts also ended up in the trash, and her black plastic glasses went in her pocket and were replaced with thin wire-frames. No one would associate the short-haired brunette who walked out the front door of the building with the long-haired redhead who’d come in to work that morning.

It was time to digest the new information she’d gotten. Karen had been most informative once she’d begun talking.

Lois now had detailed information on Jenna’s criminal hierarchy, from the seven people who reported directly to her and many of the people who reported to those seven. Below that, Karen didn’t know the details, but she knew about the general activities they’d engaged in. Lois wasn’t surprised to learn that collecting from the house of prostitution she’d used as camouflage when casing Big Mike was the responsibility of one of Jenna’s subordinates.

The only hiccup had been when Lois had asked about the next level up. Karen had sworn on her mother’s grave that a tall, white-haired, goateed Englishman – whose name she claimed not to know – was the person Jenna Leibowitz reported to. Karen had admitted to seeing him several times and had spoken with him twice. He’d always been charming, if a bit low-key, and unfailingly polite.

He’d also exuded an aura of menace so palpable that Karen hadn’t wanted to talk any more. Lois had had to place her pistol against the doctor’s head and cock the hammer to get her speaking again. Leibowitz had tried to scream through her gag, presumably for Karen to shut up, but Karen had believed Lois’ bluff and spoken about Nigel by name, then poured out all she knew of his activities.

Lois climbed on a city bus and rode it downtown, then switched to another which took her closer to her hideout apartment. The wire frames disappeared into her purse on the second bus, and she turned her jacket inside-out one more time just before her stop. The effect made Lois look like yet another person to the casual observer. She felt invisible, and safe, again.

Except there was a young cop in front of her apartment building as she rounded the corner two blocks from her refuge. Without breaking stride, she kept walking past him without turning her head, then turned into the alley where the building’s fire escape terminated. If she couldn’t get in the back way, she could climb the ladder.

But a quick glance over her shoulder told her that not only was the cop not following her, he hadn’t seemed to even notice her. And, as she’d hoped, the emergency exit of the building was still unlocked from the outside, something that would have aroused the ire of any safety inspector should one ever visit this dump.

The stairs weren’t too hard on her legs, even if she hadn’t been to the gym for almost two weeks. And her stomach felt better today. Maybe she would have a good day today and not ralph up the contents of her belly.

She snickered to herself as she thought of Ralph and vomiting at the same time. It was an apt juxtaposition. The guy was just irritating, even when he was actually working.

Then her smile turned upside down as she thought of Cat and their verbal battles, of Jimmy and his enthusiasm and untapped talent, of Perry and his Elvis stories, of Eduardo and his proud tales of his children and what they had already accomplished in life –

And of Clark.

Her eyes threatened to overflow and her vision blurred and she almost tripped on the wrinkled carpet leading to her room.

Blast it! She’d let him sneak up on her again!

She missed all of the others at the Planet, but she missed Clark most of all. She wished that she’d taken him seriously all the times he’d tried to warn her about Lex Luthor. She wished she hadn’t seriously considered accepting the man’s proposal, a proposal Clark had all but begged her to decline.

And she wished she’d told him that she returned his love that day in the park.

She dropped her purse and the foot of the bed and turned to lock the door behind her. Her lip trembled and she stumbled to the bed to fall face-down on the comforter.

Of all the people she regretted pushing away from her, it was Clark who was her number one regret. He’d never revealed any of the secrets he’d learned about her, he’d always come through for her, he’d always been there to lift her up when she was down, and no matter how hard she tried, she hadn’t been able to run him off. For most of a year, she’d tried to shove him away from her, but like a puppy he kept coming back for more.

No, not a puppy. He was smart, handsome, and had an inner strength that would have given anyone Lois knew a strong test. He was also faithful to a fault, and even though he had no compunction about correcting her grammar or spelling or actions, he always did so with the goal of helping her be a better reporter, a better writer, a better person.

He had to be in love with her to put up with such lousy treatment from her.

She curled up in a ball and prayed silently as her tears dampened the covers. She prayed that she’d wrap this up soon enough to tell Clark how she really felt about him. She prayed that her cancer would let her enjoy a few weeks, or even just a few days, of his company. She prayed that he’d understand that she loved him no matter how short her time was.

Then her hands began trembling.

She tried to stop them but couldn’t. She felt as if she were coming down with a serious case of chills, but she didn’t have a fever. Maybe – maybe her tremors were another symptom of the cancer manifesting itself.

Her legs began shaking and her chest spasmed. Her breath came in short, sharp gulps snatched from between her chattering teeth. Her head jerked up and down against the pillow and a scream began making its way up from her abdomen.

Lois managed to shove her face against the pillow just before the wails began – even here, a screaming woman would bring attention she didn’t want. Her tears soaked the pillow and mixed with her drool. Her fingers clawed at the sheets and tore through the cheap weave in at least two places.

It was either the cancer or the emotional reaction of missing Clark so much. It had to be. She couldn’t be reacting to what she’d done – and threatened to do – to Jenna and Karen. It had been wrong, she knew, but there was no way to get the information she needed quickly enough. The end justified the means – at least it did in this case.

Her wild lunges and shakes finally subsided into deep, heart-rending sobs. She missed Clark. She missed Perry and Jimmy and even Cat. She missed her own apartment and her Jeep. Most of all, she missed doing her job, talking around and through obstinate police officers, getting information no one else could get, seeing her name above the fold on the front page, because it meant that a bad person wouldn’t hurt anyone any more.

She cared about the awards, the recognition of her peers, the knowledge that she was near the top of her profession, but most of all she wanted the bad guys to pay for what they did. She slept well knowing that one or more evildoers were put away where they couldn’t hurt anyone.

She wiped her eyes and nose on the edge of the grimy sheet and told herself that she’d find the Boss and prove his or her identity. And she’d sleep well for eternity knowing that she’d brought the Boss to justice.

Exhausted sleep overtook her before she could move from that spot.

*****

Lex pressed the intercom button. “Jennifer, please locate Nigel and ask him to come to my office immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” the woman responded.

Lex leaned back in his chair. He didn’t know whether he hoped Nigel already knew all about the scene in Jenna’s office or that he would be shocked by the news. Lex was certainly shocked, and not a little concerned. Jenna knew enough about Lex’ business – his real business – to put him in prison for the next few decades of his life, assuming he could avoid the death penalty.

A knock on the door signaled a visitor. It had to be Nigel, or his secretary would be in for a very uncomfortable lesson. “Come in, Nigel.”

The tall Englishman stepped in and closed the door, then moved further into the room. “You summoned me, sir?” he asked.

“Yes, Nigel, I did.” Lex picked up a cigar – this one a domestic brand – and puffed it until it was lit to his satisfaction. He glanced at Nigel, who hadn’t moved from that spot. “Have you heard the latest about the assault on one of our subordinates?”

The man frowned slightly. “Unless you refer to Mr. Robertson’s ordeal, and I doubt that you do, no, I have not heard, sir.”

Lex nodded. “Funny you should mention Mr. Robertson. I just took a call from him.” He stopped and took in a long puff from the cigar, then let it out in a smooth stream. “It seems that he went to his supervisor’s office to – how did he put it – oh, yes, to ‘plead his case with her.’ An appropriate turn of phrase for an attorney, don’t you think? Unfortunately, his supervisor was, er, unable to converse with him.”

Nigel started. “She’s dead?”

“No, not dead, but she was drugged and unconscious. Mr. Robertson took charge of the situation by telling the young man in the adjoining office – a civilian employee of Dr. Leibowitz – that the young man needed to go to Mr. Robertson’s car and retrieve an emergency medical kit while Mr. Robertson revived the two women in the doctor’s office.”

“I’m sorry, sir, two women?”

“Two, Nigel. Dr. Leibowitz and her associate Karen Carter. Both women were in a shameful state of undress, and Robertson apparently did a good job of covering them and hiding their clothing – which was neatly folded and stacked on the doctor’s desk – before the young man returned. Then somehow he convinced the young man that the women had been felled by some virulent pathogen and needed to be quarantined. Next – and this is the part I appreciated the most – Robertson convinced the young man that he had not been exposed to the pathogen but he, Robertson, had been, and that the young man needed to lock himself in his office to prevent such exposure while Robertson contacted the authorities and secured the room. Robertson then contacted an associate of his, who assisted him in transporting the two women to a safer location.”

Nigel nodded, then blinked. “Uh, sir, if you don’t mind a question or two?”

Lex waved the cigar expansively. “Go ahead.”

“How did you come to be in possession of this information?”

“Ah! A very good question. Jenna has my private number here. Instead of merely memorizing it, as instructed, she entered it into her personal cell phone under the initials ‘L L’ with no accompanying description. Robertson found the phone, took it with him, and called the number when it became obvious that the good doctor would survive her ordeal. I nearly hung up when I heard his voice, until he told me that Jenna and Karen were safe with him and recovering under a physician’s care. Unfortunately, their memories are somewhat clouded, so we do not know the extent of the damage as yet.”

“I see, sir. Then I must ask – who has perpetrated this deed?”

“Robertson reported that Jenna had taken on a new staff intern several days ago, a young red-headed woman named Zoe Cunningham, possessing excellent organizational skills and a three-fifty-seven magnum revolver. Jenna was quite clear in relating that detail to Robertson, one of the few details of which she was certain. Does that sound like anyone we know?”

Nigel took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Regrettably, sir, this sounds like the work of one Lois Lane, renegade investigative reporter for the Daily Planet.”

Lex straightened in his chair. “I agree. Robertson was unable to obtain any concrete information about what the young woman – almost surely Lois – had acquired from Jenna and Karen, but there was a brief mention of a microcassette recorder and the district attorney’s office. I suggest that we attempt to intercept that tape, if possible, and destroy it. If we can, there will be no record of what actually happened in that office, as both Dr. Leibowitz and Ms. Carter were removed from the building before anyone saw them.”

Nigel nodded. “He did well, sir. I assume the young man in the outer office has been eliminated?”

Lex shook his head. “No. Robertson felt that because he had neither seen nor heard anything incriminating, it was safe to have another associate take him home. The associate then injected a sedative into the young man’s arm after telling him that he should receive a preemptive inoculation against the virulent pathogen which felled the unfortunate doctor and her office manager. I expect that by now the young man is fast asleep and will remain so until late tomorrow.” Lex stood. “If it’s any consolation to you, I believe that you have trained Mr. Robertson well.”

“Thank you, sir, but I must decline all credit for his—”

“Of course you must!” Lex slammed both fists on the desktop. “It was your incompetence in failing to locate Lois that has allowed this situation to develop as it has! You cannot be held responsible for its beginning but I do hold you responsible for its continuation!” He stomped around the desk and glared up at his subordinate. “I want you to stop that tape from reaching the authorities, Nigel. And then I want you to find Lois Lane and bring her to me alive and unharmed! And this time I will accept no excuses, no prevarications, no explanations! I want results!”

Nigel didn’t shift position, but his face tightened and his words were even more clipped than usual. “Yes, sir. Unless you have additional instructions for me – “

“GO!” roared Lex.

He went.

*****

Nigel was furious.

No. His black rage went beyond furious, beyond livid, beyond inflamed, beyond anything he could name. He hated Lois Lane with a volcanic passion. He didn’t just want her dead, he wanted her disemboweled with a dull box cutter and eviscerated with a red-hot butter knife. He wanted her drawn and quartered by four teams of Galapagos tortoises and her body salted and drawn into jerky. He wanted to drill holes into her skull and force in boiling salt water to flush out her brain matter. He wanted her to die in screaming agony, terrorized beyond coherent speech, drowning in her own blood.

And he wanted to do it all himself.

It didn’t matter what Lex Luthor had told him. It didn’t matter what his instructions were. It didn’t matter what Lex Luthor wanted. Nigel St. John was going to kill Lois Lane.

And if he couldn’t do it with a box cutter or butter knife or tortoises, he’d settle for dropping her off a tall building or crushing her skull with a concrete block.

First, though, he had to stop that tape from being delivered.

*****

Maura Ingles put the phone down and wept silently. She knew that her life was over no matter how this turned out. The Englishman had never asked her to steal anything or destroy anything before, only copy papers for him or delay certain office deliveries a day or two. And he’d always paid her both well and on time.

Now, though, she was being asked – no, she’d been ordered – to intercept a particular envelope containing a specific tape and give it to the Englishman. He couldn’t tell her what size or color the envelope was, how big the tape was, who it was addressed to if not just to the District Attorney of Metropolis, or what the return address was, assuming one would be on the envelope. But she had to find it anyway or suffer the consequences.

Maura didn’t want to know what the consequences might be.

If she found the tape and gave it to the Englishman, he’d hold it over her head for the rest of her life. She was neither a law enforcement official nor an attorney, but the eight years she’d spent in the bowels of the District Attorney’s office had been good ones. She’d prided herself on helping the city keep a handle on the criminal element, and her contributions in keeping the lines of communication among the various attorneys and clerks in the department had been substantial and material, at least in her own mind. She rationalized her extracurricular activities by telling herself that no criminal had ever escaped justice because she’d shared information on any ongoing prosecution.

But the money wasn’t enough this time. Surrendering that tape would interfere with a criminal investigation and prevent someone from paying for a criminal act. Maura knew that without knowing what was on the tape. She wouldn’t have been given such an urgent and dangerous mission if that weren’t so. And she wouldn’t have been promised triple her normal payment if it had been her usual copy-the-brief or mislay-the-affidavit job.

There was really no question about what Maura would do. She’d get the tape and deal with the other stuff later.

Assuming, of course, that she lived long enough to deal with the other stuff.

*****

Lois sighed as she put the tape into the manila envelope, along with a piece of cardboard on either side of the tape to stiffen it, sealed the envelope, and wrote the DA’s address on the front. She frowned in thought for a moment, then wrote “Photo – Do Not Bend” below the address. As an added bonus, she put Lola Dane on the return address field and added the Daily Planet’s street address along with it. It might keep the envelope closed long enough for the tape to find the right person.

She sighed. If the DA got this tape and acted on it, both Jenna and Nigel would be trapped in the investigation. If it fell into the wrong hands, though, someone was likely to die at the hands of the criminals she was pursuing. Upon reflection, Lois decided it would be fitting if there were one or two bad guys who went into eternity with her. It wouldn’t be as good as bringing down the entire organization, but it would be better than nothing.

Of course, the original tape was already on the way to Perry’s home with the same return address. Her old boss would know what to do with it.

>>> Chapter Seven

Alan Robertson looked up as the door to his office swung open to admit a tall, broad-shouldered younger man who strode implacably toward his desk. Robertson’s secretary Margaret trailed in the man’s wake, nipping at his heels like a puppy and yipping that he couldn’t come in. The man ignored her and didn’t stop until he rooted himself to the floor in front of Alan’s desk.

“Mr. Robertson,” he said, “I’m Clark Kent from the Daily Planet. I need to speak with you.”

“I do not give interviews, Mr. Kent. Please follow my secretary out of my office and out of the building and do not return.”

Kent leaned on the desk even as Margaret tried to pull his arm back. Judging by the effect she had on him, she might as well have tried to pull a fifty-year-old oak tree out of the ground.

“I’m not here to interview you, Mr. Robertson,” Kent growled. “I want to talk to you about Lois Lane.”

Alan looked into the man’s eyes and saw steely determination. He sighed, knowing now that Kent wouldn’t leave without accomplishing his mission. “It’s all right, Margaret,” he grunted. “I’ll speak to Mr. Kent. Please go back to your desk.”

“I could call security, Mr. Robertson. You shouldn’t tire yourself. You know what your doctor said.”

“I’ll be fine, Margaret. Really. Thank you for your concern, but please leave us alone for now.”

She glared at Kent for a long moment, then turned and stormed out. The door slammed into its frame with enough force to shake the wall.

Alan turned to the invader and said, “Please tell me what you need to know and let me answer your questions. My doctor still has me on half-day office hours and I tire quickly.”

“Fine.” Kent straightened and loomed even larger. “I’ve read the description of the woman who shot you. It sounds like Lois Lane in a thin disguise. I also saw the police sketch of her face. It looks like Lois with shorter hair.”

“I do not believe the woman was wearing a wig, Mr. Kent.”

“Neither do I, which means she cut her hair and dyed it. Did she say anything to you about why she was doing this?”

“Have you heard the tape?”

“I read the transcript.”

“Then you know as much as I do. I do not believe I can add to your knowledge on this subject.”

“I think you can. You can tell me what the two of you talked about at dinner. The police report was pretty thin on those details.”

Alan leaned back and took another look at the reporter, then thought hard for several seconds. Then he decided to take a chance.

“You are in love with her, are you not?”

Kent’s face flushed and Alan knew he’d scored a hit. “We’re not talking about me, Robertson, we’re talking about you and Lois.”

“I have not changed the subject, Mr. Kent. You were the man of whom she spoke at dinner.”

“What? What man? What did she say?”

“As we ate our salads, before the entrees arrived, I asked her why she, such a beautiful, confident, intelligent woman, was not already involved in a satisfying romantic relationship. She told me that she had been all but engaged to a wealthy man who did not love her and whom she did not love, and that she had foolishly rejected the love of another man who did love her quite unreservedly. I asked why she did not seek to rectify that situation, and she put down her fork and said – quite cryptically, I thought – that time did not permit her to pursue that option. Then she brightened and redirected the conversation to me and tried to convince me that being a corporate attorney was a fascinating occupation.”

Kent’s expression fell. “That’s it?”

“I fear so. I made two or three attempts to learn more about the woman who I knew as Lola Dane, print advertisement model, but she parried them quite deftly and repeatedly turned the topic back to me. I must admit that I was flattered – until I found myself tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse in Gotham City, pumped full of mind-altering drugs, and shot.”

“You confessed to a great many crimes, Robertson.”

“I am not a criminal attorney, Mr. Kent, but I have employed one for my own defense. And my attorney tells me that my so-called ‘confession’ was coerced under very dubious and stressful circumstances. I was also drugged. There is no way to prove any of those allegations. Any investigation resulting from that tape would, in legal terms, be the ‘fruit of the poisoned tree’ and therefore would not be admissible in a court of law. No judge would allow such calumny in his courtroom.”

He didn’t tell Kent that the rules for police interrogations and civilian tips weren’t quite the same, and that evidence from a citizen wasn’t subject to the same strict guidelines as information gained during police questioning. He also didn’t reveal that his attorney feared that there were many judges in the state who would be thrilled to hear that tape and preside over any of the resulting trials, Robertson’s own included.

Kent’s voice yanked him back to the moment. “Calumny, huh? That’s a three-dollar word if I ever heard one.”

“Please do not insult me by implying that you do not know that it refers to a malicious slander.”

“I won’t.” The reporter shifted his weight slightly and seemed to grow denser. “Did she say anything about where she was living?”

Robertson tried not to show his sudden fright. “No. She allowed me to believe that she lived from hotel to hotel as she traveled to her photography jobs. You did know that she approached me pretending to be a lonely model looking for intelligent dinner company, did you not?”

“Yes. So you have no idea where she might be now?”

“So long as I do not find her waiting for me in a stolen sports car when I leave my office, Mr. Kent, I could not care less where she is now or where she will be in the future, whether near or far.”

Kent seemed to deflate slightly. “Okay. I guess that’s all I have to ask you. Thanks for your help.”

“You may best thank me by not harassing me. Should there be a next time, I will not be so patient with you.”

The man’s chocolate eyes turned to ice. “The next time you see me, Robertson, I’ll be watching you in court.” Those eyes narrowed and his voice turned hard. “And if a quarter of what’s on that tape is true, I hope they throw you under the jail and leave you to rot.”

Kent spun on his heel and yanked open the door, then left as abruptly as he’d arrived. Alan let out a long breath in relief. He’d had no doubt that the younger, bigger, and obviously far stronger man could have overcome him in seconds had the impulse overtaken him. And Margaret, as short and slender as she was, could only have called for an ambulance to take his body to the emergency room or the morgue, depending on how angry Kent really was.

Things were not going well. Dr. Leibowitz and Ms. Carter were back in their office, but despite Alan having come to their rescue after that very distressing episode in the doctor’s office after the assault by her intern, Dr. Leibowitz had not spoken with him since the tape of his ‘confession’ had been sent to the police. His own organization was in disarray as some of his underlings deserted the city like rats from a sinking ship, while others demanded larger shares for their own work and for taking over for their departed peers. He had enough hidden cash on hand to make his payments for the next three weeks, but beyond that he would have to dip into his private savings, the money not even his defense attorney knew about, unless the situation turned around quickly.

Or – perhaps there was another option.

Instead of making his usual payments to Leibowitz, he could take that money, his personal savings, the cash and bearer bonds from his safety deposit box, and run. The total added up to a sum over three hundred thousand dollars. All he needed to do was go west, maybe as far as St. Louis, to hide from Nigel St. John until he could make his way to Barbados or San Juan. If Nigel caught him, no one would find his body for years – if it ever was found.

But if he could avoid Nigel, he could live like a king in either of those places.

Or, perhaps, Haiti would be a more convivial destination. That island country was rife with corruption and graft, and with his dark skin and education and obvious sophistication, he would fit right into the upper tier of society. He could offer his legal expertise to the Haitian leaders and generals to help them hide their ill-gotten gains from the local police and from the American authorities who regularly swept through the island nation to ‘fix’ it. The island nation was a shining opportunity for Alan to enter a new phase of his life.

Yes, that was a viable option. He’d consider it from all angles tonight and make his decision tomorrow. If he decided to go, he could buy a car or van for cash and disappear before Margaret could miss him.

There was no percentage in hanging around while waiting for either Jenna Leibowitz or the court system to get their hooks in him. Neither of those options sounded good to him as long-term solutions. It was time to fold his tent and set up shop using one of his other identities.

Sometimes it was good to be inconspicuous.

*****

Clark stopped on the street outside Robertson’s office, pulled out Perry’s cell phone, and dialed the office. His boss picked up after two rings.

“Perry White, Daily Planet.”

“Chief, this is Clark. Robertson didn’t give me anything I could use to find Lois.”

“Well, son, we knew it was a long shot going in. Come on back to the office and you can get started on your next assignment.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “She’s still out there. I need to find her.”

“We won’t stop looking, I promise you. But we do have this little thing called the Daily Planet which you and I have both neglected a bit recently.”

“I want to take a shot at Dr. Leibowitz. I think I can get something from her or her staff.”

“I’m sorry, Clark, but the answer is no. We can’t get in the way of an active multi-jurisdictional investigation and you know it. Much as it pains me to say it, we have to wait for Bill Henderson on this one.”

Clark controlled the reaction to his frustration and didn’t crush the phone in his hand. “Maybe if I talk to someone in the DA’s office?”

Perry’s voice turned more urgent and more intense. “Don’t you dare! You know that Bill is not only honest but dedicated to justice. Not all cops are both of those things. The people in the DA’s office are dedicated to closing cases and convicting the guilty, not finding wayward reporters. And if you let anyone else in that building know about the group working on the evidence from those tapes, the bad guys will find out before the day is done and you’ll be guilty of obstruction of justice and I don’t want my two best reporters at odds with law enforcement at the same time.”

Clark sighed, knowing that Perry was right but hating to admit it. “Okay, I’ll come in. But if I hear anything solid about Lois’s whereabouts, I’m going out again.”

“Fair enough. Now come on back here and give me something I can put on the front page.”

Clark closed the phone and returned it to his pocket. He really hated the way he seemed to be two steps behind Lois no matter how fast he moved. He’d always known she was very good, but he was gaining a new respect for her talents. No one would admit to knowing where she was, and, unsurprisingly, none of the people she’d ‘interviewed’ – he liked Perry’s term for it – would give him any real information. He’d hit the proverbial stone wall.

Maybe the best thing he could do would be to go back to the office, get his assignments, and work them from the street angles until they found Lois. After all, she thought her condition was terminal, and that meant she wouldn’t stay hidden for long.

He’d find her.

He’d save her. He had to. He just had to.

*****

Lois sat on the bed in her seedy apartment, sipped a lukewarm soft drink she’d bought from the dented vending machine downstairs, and pondered her next move. She’d appeared as an older, chubby blonde bag lady, a sensuous brunette with blonde highlights, a testy redhead, and herself. In order to get closer to Nigel St. John, she’d have to appear as someone else, someone he wouldn’t necessarily expect but who wouldn’t set off any alarms for him. It wasn’t going to be easy.

He’d be alert for any woman he didn’t already know. And Lois was sure that he had all of his snitches on the lookout for her. Whoever she appeared to be, she needed to blend in to the background, yet be noticeable enough for him to listen to her suggestions.

But how?

How could she disguise herself this time? Bag lady was out, sultry model was already used, snippy secretarial intern was off the table, hookers didn’t wear enough clothes for a disguise –

Wait a minute.

All those roles were female roles. Maybe – just maybe –

She had to think.

Of course! She could recreate her disguise for the car theft ring she’d infiltrated the year before! Jimmy had helped her with the walk and the voice, but she was sure she remembered it all. She’d have to scrounge up an Ace bandage to squish her breasts and pick up some generic men’s clothing from the local Goodwill store, but she was sure she could do it.

It meant cutting her hair even shorter, but she was more than willing to go that route if it meant that she could get one step closer to the Boss. And when she did, she’d make him pick up a telephone and call the police and confess to keep her from shooting him right there on the spot. All that she’d learned since she’d gone underground had convinced her that if Nigel wasn’t The Boss – and she didn’t believe he was – he reported directly to whoever was The Boss. And Nigel reported directly to Lex Luthor.

The man who’d told her that he loved her and who had led her to believe that he planned to ask her to marry him.

The man she was starting to believe was, indeed, Metropolis’ resident criminal mastermind.

All the little clues that Clark had tried to get her to look at, all the little things she’d learned by herself over the past few weeks, subtly pointed to Lex Luthor as The Boss. Not any one piece of information confirmed that suspicion, of course, and each one of them could be explained away individually, but when she combined them with the information she’d gotten from all the people she’d ambushed since her terminal diagnosis, the fickle finger of fate indicated her erstwhile boyfriend.

The people she’d spoken with since beginning her end-of-life quest – Lois didn’t like to think of herself as an armed bully – had repeated rumors to her that the tests of strength Superman had undergone not long after he’d arrived had been directed by Lex. Her father’s involvement with the cyborg boxers – and Lex’ shooting of Max Menken – had been cast in a different light by other things she’d learned. Lex’ appearance at the Metro Club when she and Clark were investigating the Toasters and their arson now seemed most incriminating. She’d discounted Clark’s assertion that Lex had been involved in the Smart Kids case, but the things she’d learned from her interrogations had convinced her that Clark had been right. She’d even uncovered signs that Lex had been deeply involved with Miranda and her stinky Revenge perfume.

And the hits just kept on coming.

The weight of the evidence had all but convinced her that everything Clark had told her, everything he’d hinted at, everything he suspected about Lex Luthor was right. The man was a heel, a criminal, a thief, a murderer, and a surprisingly adroit liar. It would not have surprised Lois if Lex had pressured the advertisers to leave in droves in order to drive the Daily Planet nearly out of business, just so he could swoop in and save it and thereby impress her with his business acumen and compassion.

She shuddered as she remembered that she’d kissed that man right on the mouth.

None of what she’d learned was airtight, alibi-free, proven-in-court solid. But even the possibility that he’d been involved infuriated her.

She had to get to him. And the best way to do that was to go through Nigel.

She seriously doubted that Nigel would respond to simply having a weapon pointed at him, so she’d have to shoot him to make him talk. And she’d probably have to shoot first or he’d kill her. He was far better than she was at hand-to-hand combat, not to mention far more experienced and lethal. She couldn’t risk arousing his suspicions.

So where could she hide her weapon?

She felt her frown turn upside down and morph into a laugh as she realized that if she disguised herself as a man, she already had the perfect hiding place. And if her jeans were loose enough, no one would ever find it because no man would search her in that area.

She pulled a pen and notepad out of her purse. If Nigel was going to buy the story she planned to tell him, it would have to be a very good one, with no holes or weaknesses. He had to believe that her new persona – perhaps Tyler Josephs would be a good name for him – that Tyler was a street thug and a reliable source of information, just a little off on his timing. She’d have to maneuver him until they were alone together, some place where he couldn’t call for reinforcements.

And then she’d shoot him and question him. She could shoot him in the knee. He couldn’t hurt her then, as long as she kept his hands off her. It was short and simple, like all good plans should be.

She could do this.

She had to.

And she had a good idea where to start. After all, Lex had to store his cars someplace.

*****

“St. John here. Yes, I know. I’m sorry, she did what? Are you certain? Have any warrants been issued? Yes, yes, you’ll be paid! Double? Now see here, I will not – No. I will pay four times the standard rate for this information. If that is what you feel you must do, then by all means, look for another purchaser who can protect you from my displeasure. It is that or I will visit your Uncle William in his senior living center. That is what I thought. No later than tomorrow morning. Have I ever failed to pay you before? That is not germane to – very well. Yes, direct wire transfer. I have your account number.”

Nigel hung up the phone in his office and sat back to think. This was bad news, very bad news.

Nigel would never admit, even to himself, that he was frightened. Not after the capers on the Continent during which he’d more than earned his ‘double-oh’ designation – his license to kill – while employed by British Intelligence. His far more famous compatriot James Bond had nothing on him, either in missions successfully accomplished or in body count. Nigel had never faced a situation while under contract to MI-6 which had frightened him. He’d been puzzled, stressed, pursued, even fooled once or twice, but he’d never been frightened.

Now, however, he felt – mild concern.

He starred at the telephone on his desk. Sometimes he hated telephones. They occasionally conveyed such distressing information.

His mole in the District Attorney’s office, Maura Ingles, had finally secured the tape he’d ordered her to find and delivered it to him in return for an envelope full of cash. Then the traitorous little child had returned to the District Attorney and made a full confession of her activities for the past three years, naming names and revealing cases which she’d influenced by simply rerouting or delaying the delivery of documents. There were no warrants issued for Nigel’s arrest as yet, but it was only a matter of time – a very short amount of time.

The worst part was that Nigel hadn’t told Luthor about this latest development. It was Luthor’s probable reaction to this news which filled Nigel with – mild concern.

It was time for him to leave. Nigel had always known when to shut down an operation, and this one was unraveling fast. It was almost inconceivable that one skinny reporter with exotic eyes and a harpy’s tongue could shake the carefully constructed edifice of his criminal activity at its very foundation. Luthor, with Nigel at his side, had kept Intergang out of Metropolis, had prevented the Russian mobs from establishing a beachhead in the city, and had even driven the majority of the old Italian mobsters out of the state to greener pastures. None of them had thwarted Luthor’s will. Yet Lois Lane, in less than three weeks, had hacked her way through their defenses and was poised to do even worse.

And Nigel still didn’t know where she was.

It didn’t matter. Nigel needed to run, and he needed to do it now. It no longer mattered where the Lane woman was or what she might do next. It no longer mattered that his network of spies was melting away like fog under the summer sun. The only thing that mattered was getting out of the city safely.

He hoped Link was working in the garage today. Link could get the Lincoln Town Car, the one with the cache of cash and spare clothing for him, and give Nigel the keys without asking questions. And the town car had the range to take him south, out of Luthor’s immediate reach. From there he could pick and choose his destination and his new identity. He rather fancied becoming a beachcomber, wearing a canvas hat, denim shorts, flip-flops, and a ragged shirt. Anyone looking for Nigel St. John would never see him as Old Bob, British expatriate and bum, down there in Margaritaville.

It was best done quickly.

He took his favorite Beretta out of its desk drawer, checked the breech and the magazine to make sure it was loaded and ready to fire, and settled it into his shoulder holster. He hung two more fully loaded twenty-round magazines under his right shoulder, then picked up a laptop computer and slid it into his briefcase, along with the bearer bonds and cash from his office safe. This close to the mid-day meal time, no one would question his appearance or movements for perhaps an hour. He would need no more time than that to disappear as if he’d never been to LexCorp.

He nodded to his secretary as he ghosted through the office to the executive elevator bank. As always, the car was available for him as soon as he pressed the button. He pressed the button for the garage level as the doors closed.

Nigel breathed a silent sigh of relief as he exited the elevator and saw Link at the garage desk. The older black man struggled to his feet and smiled, making his chubby cheeks pooch out even farther. “Good day, Mr. St. John,” he called. “Shall I get the Jaguar for you?”

“Not today, Link. Please bring the light blue Lincoln Town Car around.”

Link’s eyes flickered, but his smile never dimmed. “Sure thing, Mr. St. John.” Link opened a nearby wooden stand and pulled a ring of keys from one of the posts. “Yo! Carleton!” he shouted. “Got a car for you to bring up. And make it snappy!”

A slightly sloppy young man with a thin moustache and ragged hair stepped around the corner. “Sorry, Mr. Link,” he said, “Carleton already went out to lunch. I’ll get the car if you want.”

Link nodded and tossed the keys to the young man. “Okay, Tyler, go get the light blue town car in slot sixteen, this level.”

“Yes sir!”

Nigel watched as Tyler quickly jogged down the rows of vehicles. “I don’t know that young man, Link.”

“Oh, he’s new, Mr. St. John. Started yesterday mornin’. He’s got a little bit of a smart mouth on him, and he knows how to use his fists. Seems to be a good worker, though.” Link frowned. “There ain’t no problem, is there, sir?”

“As long as he brings the correct car, I don’t care if he’s a professional cake decorator in his spare time.”

Link smiled with relief. “He’ll get that car, sir. Oh, look, he’s bringing it already.”

Nigel nodded with approval as the car slid to a gentle stop. He’d half-expected the young man to squeal the tires both starting and stopping, but he’d handled it with skill and care.

Tyler emerged from the driver’s door and handed the keys to Nigel. “Here you go, sir.”

Nigel took them and sat in the driver’s seat. Behind him he heard Link say, “Hey, Tyler! Next time you just leave the keys in the – hey! Get out of there!”

Before Nigel could turn his head and look, the driver’s side rear door opened and slammed shut. A quick glance in the rear view mirror showed Tyler’s youthful face, now wearing a mask of barely controlled fury.

It also showed a large-caliber revolver pointed at Nigel’s neck.

The young man ignored Link’s shouts and gyrations outside the car and pulled back the hammer on the pistol. “Drive!” he growled.

Nigel started the car and pulled forward. “Which way?”

“You pick the route. But know and believe that if anything bad happens, I will shoot you.”

Nigel turned right and glanced back at the mirror. Tyler’s eyes were narrowed and determined but not desperate. If Nigel kept his head, he would live through this day.

“You do understand that you cannot succeed in this endeavor, young man, whether you have robbery or kidnapping or some other motive for this rash action. There is no avenue for success open to you.”

“Doesn’t matter, Nigel. I’m on a dead-end street anyway.”

Nigel blinked. That voice – the eyes – of course!

He was an idiot. It was Lois Lane in the back seat of the car holding a weapon on him, not some frightened and idiotic young punk. Maybe he could talk some sense into her.

“Very good, Miss Lane. You had me completely fooled.”

“Shut up.”

“I only – “

She poked him in the neck with the muzzle of the revolver. “I told you to shut up.”

“As you wish.” He raised his hand to rub his neck and she poked him again.

“Both hands on the wheel, Nigel. Don’t touch anything else except the turn signal lever or you’ll have an extra hole in your head.”

He returned his hand to the steering wheel and nodded. “I assume you were responsible for the chaos in Dr. Leibowitz’ office a few days ago.”

“I was. And before you ask, yes, I’m the one who got Alan Robertson to bare his soul on that tape. And before that I shot Big Mike Pittman and Walt McNally to get information from them.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know those last two names.”

“Low level crooks in Lex’ organization. No reason you should know their names. They didn’t know you, either.”

“I see. Then, if I may ask, how did you locate me so quickly?”

She tapped him on the shoulder with the muzzle of the pistol. “Take a right at State, then another right at Ninth when you get there. And don’t move too fast or I’ll get nervous and pull the trigger.”

He glanced at the mirror again and decided that she was not bluffing. “Consider it done.”

They drove in silence until he turned at State, then stopped at a traffic light at the next intersection. “You were about to tell me how you found me so quickly, Miss Lane.”

“Pure luck. After a few days puttering around in the parking garage, I was going to find an excuse to go up to see you. But you came to see me on my second day. How very accommodating of you.”

The light turned green and Nigel guided the big car down the street, grinding his teeth at his misfortune. He’d made the right decision at the right time, and it had blown up in his face. He knew that operations sometimes went that way, that the most careful planning might be for naught if your opponent did something either out of character or unexpected.

Something out of character –

Why was Lois Lane acting like this? Why did she say that she was on a dead-end street? Why was she using violence to investigate Luthor’s illegal businesses?

“Miss Lane? Might I ask you a question?”

“No. Shut up and drive.”

“But I – “

She poked him in the neck again, harder this time. “I will drop you right here and now if you don’t shut up!”

He had no choice but to comply. They reached Ninth Avenue, and Nigel turned right on the street. They were now about eight blocks from LexCorp Towers, and he wondered what the next turn might be. It was obvious, to him at least, that her real target was The Boss, and she seemed to know who that person was.

Wait a moment.

She’d mentioned Lex’ organization, not Nigel’s. And Nigel hadn’t expressed surprise or corrected her description.

He sighed quietly. Even the rawest rookie agent would not commit such an egregious error. He was an idiot twice in one day. If the woman hadn’t already had proof that Luthor was The Boss, she’d just received confirmation of it from Nigel’s own lips.

And if she gave Luthor that little bit of information, no place on Earth would be safe enough for Nigel to hide from the man’s wrath. He would spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, waiting for Lex Luthor to bring that final sting of death to him.

An idea formed in his mind. If he brought her to Lex Luthor, his position in the company might still be secure. If Lex had Lois in his grasp, he might overlook Nigel’s failures to this point. It might work even if all he brought was her dead body.

All he needed to do was to wait for his chance.

Then another phrase she’d spoken surfaced in his mind, that she was on a “dead-end street.” What did that mean? What was she –

No. It couldn’t be –

Yes it could.

Of course. It was so obvious it was almost funny.

She still thought she was dying of cancer. She was working her way up the organization’s command structure in this manner because she didn’t believe she would survive long enough to do the job legally. And that gave Nigel an edge. As soon as he took that revolver away from her, he’d inform her that her diagnosis had been in error and that she was as healthy as she had ever been. The shock would take away her desperation and anger, rob her of her motivation to destroy what it had taken Lex and Nigel years to build, and she would easily surrender to Nigel’s tender mercies.

Then he’d shoot her in the head and take her body back to Luthor.

The most direct route back to LexCorp Towers was a right turn onto Park Lane, but Lois allowed him to pass it. Then she tapped his shoulder again and said, “Take a right down the alley beside Harper’s Dry Goods. Go just past the service entrance and stop.”

“You’re climbing the food chain, aren’t you, Miss Lane? You’re looking for the top predator. How do you know it isn’t me?”

“I never heard of anyone so chatty who had a gun pointed at his head and was told repeatedly to be quiet. Now stop talking.”

He nodded. This was an excellent place for him to overpower her. His training and experience gave him the confidence that he could best her in any fight, irrespective of any initial disadvantages he might face. The day was not over for Nigel St. John.

The car glided to a silent stop as Lois had directed. “Now put the transmission in park and turn off the key. Slowly, very slowly, take the key out of the ignition and hand it to me.”

This was his chance. He would take her now.

He moved the shift lever to Park, then turned off the key and slid it out of the ignition as he –

BLAM!

The bullet tore through the seat, then hit the back of his right shoulder and threw him forward as the impact twisted his torso to the left. The keys flew out of his hand and he slumped down to the middle of the front seat, stunned and bleeding.

Through the haze of stabbing pain and confusion, he thought he heard Lois say, “The police will be here soon and they’ll bring an ambulance. Stay down and close your eyes because I’m going to put two more shots through the windshield to make sure somebody calls the cops.” Then he thought he heard her grunt, “And it’ll look more like a crime scene and they’ll search the car and find whatever you’ve got hidden in here.”

The back door opened closed and he heard running feet, then two shots rang out from outside the car. Glass fragments scattered around his head and left arm, and he glanced up to see spider cracks from the bullets spread across the windshield.

He grabbed the wheel with his left hand and slowly pulled himself upright, then reached for the ignition when he remembered that the key was somewhere on the floor of the car. He gave up and leaned back, knowing that he didn’t have the strength to pick up the key even if he could find it. He couldn’t even reach the bullet wound over his shoulder blade. He was only glad the round hadn’t exited the front of his shoulder and made two bloody holes in his torso.

He looked down the alley and saw Lois shoot twice into the lock on the side entrance to the company parking garage, then pull it open. From that door, she could climb the stairs all the way to the top floor and walk directly into the executive offices. She must have researched the mechanism and discovered the best way to destroy it, he mused. The woman was nothing if not prepared.

Under other circumstances, he might have admired that quality in her.

An outside door slammed behind him and someone shouted for someone to call the police. A jowly middle-aged woman slowly crept into his line of sight and yelled at him through the window, asking him if he was hurt.

He gave her his best withering stare, one which unfortunately had no effect on her screeching calls to him. “You hurt, mister?” she repeated. “Don’t worry, the police are coming now.”

Had he still had the strength, he would have thrown the car door open and run. But he couldn’t move his right arm at all, and he had begun to feel cold. His vision grayed out and he knew he was going into shock. The pain would get worse, he knew, before it got better.

The best outcome he might hope for was to awaken in the hospital surrounded by police officers. And it was the second worst fate he could imagine for himself.

The worst fate, of course, was to be dead.

>>> Chapter Eight

Link was scared, really scared. Not in a million years would he have thought that Tyler – or whoever he really was – would pull a gun on Mr. St. John. It couldn’t be a kidnapping, because Tyler had left Link as a witness. No kidnapper would have left him alive to talk to the cops or anyone else. Same thing for a robbery or a carjacking. It just didn’t make sense.

Link knew what he was supposed to do if anything out of the ordinary took place. He was supposed to call the head of security and tell him what had just happened. But if he did that, people would find out that Link hadn’t done anything to stop whatever had just happened, and they’d all be mad at him. Like he could have stopped it. It had all happened too fast for him to stop it. And Link never carried a gun. But if he didn’t tell them, Mr. St. John would tell them, and then they’d be even madder.

He couldn’t win. All his life he couldn’t win. He thought he’d found a cushy job for the rest of his life thanks to Nadine, and all of a sudden he was looking at jail or getting shot or running. He might as well die of a heart attack right now.

He dithered for several minutes, pacing back and forth in front of his desk and trying to decide. He knew he looked as scared as he was but he didn’t know what to do. He had no instructions for something like this. Even though he hadn’t hired Tyler, those people would make out like it was his fault no matter what he did. He couldn’t run – he was too old and he wasn’t ready for something like this. If he got fired he’d never get another job. And he wouldn’t last a week in jail.

He was still trying to make up his mind when the door to the tunnel from LexCorp’s main office opened. He spun around and saw Mrs. Cox stride into the garage and smile at him. It was their secret routine on the days she went out for lunch. She’d smile real nice, he’d smile back, she’d call him Mr. Link, he’d call her Mrs. Cox like he hadn’t known her since she was Nadine Hanover the five-dollar hooker and pool hustler down on Forty-Ninth and Vine, and he’d bring her car around himself and close the door for her like a gentleman treats a real lady.

Not today.

The closer she got, the more her smile dimmed. “Mr. Link, what’s the matter? What happened?”

Her soft voice pried open his mouth and it all poured out. “Oh, Nadine, we got trouble! That young man Tyler they sent me yesterday done stole Mr. St. John’s car with him in it! Boy had a gun pointed at Mr. St. John’s head and they drove away!”

Mrs. Cox’ lips parted slightly and she stopped in mid-step. “What?”

One of the conditions of his job was that he never – not ever! – refer to her as Nadine. They had both left the old grifter life behind when she’d become respectable. “Oh, I’m sorry! Mrs. Cox! That boy done took Mr. St. John away in the car and I don’t know where they is now and I so scared I cain’t think!”

She took a deep breath and put her hand on his arm. “Take it easy, Artie. Just relax. Okay? Now tell me, how long ago did this happen?”

He wiped the sweat from his face and glanced at his watch. “Maybe ten minutes past. No more. Nadine – Mrs. Cox, what we gonna do?”

She smiled slightly and shook her head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. You’re going to bring me my car – no. Which car did Nigel take?”

“The – the Lincoln. Light blue Town Car.”

She nodded. “That’s what I thought he’d do. Artie, I want you to bring me the silver and black Crown Victoria with the Landau roof. And then I’m going to take you to lunch.”

Lunch? That should have been the last thing on her mind! “What? You can’t – I mean I can’t – lunch?”

Her smile grew. “Bad things are about to happen to Mr. Luthor, Artie, and we don’t want to be here when the crap hits the fan. We’ve had a good run here, you and I, but it’s time to go.”

“But – “

“The silver and black Crown Vic, Artie. Please don’t keep me waiting.”

He shuffled to the key safe and opened it, then turned to face her. None of this made sense to him and he had a million questions, but all he could think of to ask was, “Lunch?”

Her head tilted to one side and her smile widened even further. “You ever been to Toronto, Artie?”

His eyes widened and his jaw fell, then the penny dropped. He nodded with comprehension. They were both running. Together again. They’d find a way to get back what they were losing here, everything except the trouble that would follow them unless they left the state. “You think you’ll like Canadian food, Mrs. Cox?”

“I think I’ll like it better than prison food. And from now on, just call me Nadine, okay?”

He grinned and started for the car. “Okay. Okay!”

He didn’t bother to close the key safe. As far as he cared, anybody wanted a car now, they could take it.

Even Mr. Luthor’s brand-new red Maserati.

*****

Lex’ intercom buzzed and he pressed a key to respond. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” his secretary said, “but Mrs. Cox does not answer either her desk phone or her cell phone.”

He paused for a moment and frowned, then pressed the key again. “Thank you, Jennifer. Please try again in ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir. I’m still unable to locate Mr. St. John, sir.”

“Keep trying to call him, too. Same interval. And keep me apprised of the results.”

“Yes, sir.”

He waited for her to tell him something else he didn’t want to hear, but nothing else came over the evil talking box. Lex almost grinned as he considered his mental description of the intercom as an ‘evil talking box.’ All it did was send or receive electronic impulses and translate them into speech. The box had no more hand in stirring up his troubles than the Dalai Lama did.

And then he did smile as he imagined the intercom with hands. Would those hands have five fingers like a human, or would they have only four or fewer, as in many older cartoons? Would the box be right-handed or left-handed? Would it walk on those hands or would it also have feet? Or would it extrude wheels and roll across his desk? Would it have eyes, and what color might they be?

He shook himself out of his escapist fantasy and pulled a fresh cigar out of the humidor at the bottom of the desk drawer. As he lit it, he considered the possible ramifications of both Nigel and Mrs. Cox being absent at the same time.

Those ramifications were dangerous, even deadly. He knew them both well enough that he was confident that whatever they were doing, it had nothing to do with some cheap assignation in a tawdry hotel and a bed that would be used but not slept in. That eventuality was so improbable that he discounted it immediately.

A second scenario was that Mrs. Cox had found Lois and had asked Nigel to help her bring Lois in. That was more plausible than the first scenario, but still highly unlikely. The day Nadine Cox admitted that she needed help doing anything would be the day Superman did a public striptease in Centennial Park. And Mrs. Cox wouldn’t need Nigel’s help with Lois.

Perhaps they were working together on some private project, either to promote their own interests in the company or to somehow upset or even displace Lex himself. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d planned something like that, either individually or collectively, but it might be the first time they had actually put such a plan in motion. It was certainly the first time Lex had been this vulnerable since both of them had joined his organization.

But it didn’t feel right.

Lex hated for anyone reporting to him to say that some possibility ‘felt’ a certain way. His professional practice was to look at the facts and only the facts in determining a course of action, and if the facts didn’t lead him in one direction or the other, he’d gather more facts until he saw the correct path clearly. Even so, there had been times when he’d been forced to take action without all the facts and without a clear direction. Sometimes things had worked out.

At other times – like this time – things had not gone so smoothly.

If Nigel and Mrs. Cox were both missing, it didn’t necessarily follow that they were together. But it might mean that both of them had examined the current business situation and come to the same conclusion.

At the risk of mixing his metaphors, it was probable that both of them, either independently or in consultation with each other, had decided that it was time to get out of Dodge before the roof fell in on them.

If two of his top lieutenants had come to the same conclusion at the same time, then perhaps it was time for Lex himself to make a discreet exit from the stage. He had enough cash on hand to set himself up anywhere he chose, and there were enough unattached mercenaries in the country at any given time and in most cities that he could easily rebuild his shattered criminal empire elsewhere. It would take time, and it would destroy his influence in the legitimate world, but that was preferable to rotting in prison.

He’d read Milton’s “Paradise Lost” as a youth and had always identified with Lucifer’s assertion that it was better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven. He’d reigned for years in this city, in this state, and he could go somewhere else and rule again. Perhaps he’d never reach these exalted heights a second time, but wherever he went, he’d end up on top.

Having come to this conclusion, he began to implement a plan of action immediately. He accepted the state of reduced personal security that would ensue as an acceptable risk. After all, it would only last a day at most, probably much less.

*****

Jennifer Marlowe was no dummy. She’d grown up listening to her grandfather Philip’s tales of being a licensed private investigator on the West Coast during and after World War Two, and she’d watched her father retire just three years before as one of Metropolis’ most decorated police officers in the city’s history. He’d done more to clean up the department than any other high-ranking officer before him, and if a citizen called for help today, that citizen could be confident that the responding officer or officers would be honest and law-abiding.

If not for a knee injury she’d suffered in high school track, she might have followed in the family tradition. But even though she wasn’t a cop, she had ingrained cop instincts and a nose for trouble.

That nose was twitching harder on this day than it had at any time since she’d become Lex Luthor’s personal secretary six years earlier.

She’d seen Nigel St. John leave earlier. The timing of his departure wasn’t suspicious, since the man seemed to run on his own schedule, but there was something about the way he walked and the weight of the briefcase by his side that set off alarm bells in Jennifer’s mind. Mr. Luthor’s tight voice as he repeatedly asked her to contact both Nigel and Mrs. Cox was another factor tickling her nose. And the way a select few of Mr. Luthor’s regular visitors and callers had behaved in the past few weeks had made even the newest staff intern nervous.

She recalled a conversation she’d had with her father years before, just before starting her job at LexCorp.

~~~~~

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” he said. “Lex Luthor doesn’t hire anyone but the best. And you’re the best.”

She smiled and tapped her Coke bottle to his. “Thanks, Pop. That means a lot to me.”

He took a swig and sighed with just a suggestion of regret in his face. “Not as good as a fine Guinness ale, but not too bad either.”

“You know what your doctor said, Pop. No alcohol. None whatsoever. Your liver and pancreas can’t take the stress.”

“I know, I know! You sound like your mother.”

“I’m flattered, as always, to be compared to her.”

“You should be. You two are the tops.” He leaned back and lifted the bottle to his lips again, then set it down and glanced around. “You know who you’re working for, don’t you?”

She sent him a hard look. “Don’t start that again, Pop. This is the best job I’ve ever had. Not only is the money great, the benefits are out of this world, and the potential for growth is almost unlimited. My new boss is the eleventh richest man in the world and he’s not satisfied with that ranking. With the stock options I’ll get, when he makes money I’ll make money. Tons of it.”

“He’s not satisfied with a lot of things, honey.”

“Dad, please – “

He lifted his hand and forced a smile. “Easy, Jen. I’m not trying to change your mind. I just want you to think about something.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms. “I’m willing to think. Go ahead.”

“I know that nothing can be proven about Lex Luthor’s alleged illegal activities, not by the DA or by me or by anyone else in the department. And I’m not asking you to investigate him. That’s not your job and I don’t want you to make it your job. If you’re right, there’s nothing to find and you’d just make him mad and interfere with your career. But if I’m right, someone would figure out what you were doing and your life would be in danger.”

She nodded. “This is old ground so far.”

He reached out and waited until she put her hand in his. “I know. But if I’m right, you’ll figure it out without having to dig for it. If that happens – and I repeat, I don’t want you to do anything that would put you in any kind of danger – I want you to tell me about it.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled. “You know I would, Pop. You taught me well.”

He relaxed and pulled his hand back. “There’s one other thing I haven’t mentioned before, something I don’t think you’ve considered.”

“What’s that?”

“If Luthor really is who I think he is, then what better way would he have to disguise his real self than to hire the police commissioner’s daughter as his personal and private secretary? It’s as if he’s flipping on a neon sign that says ‘Look at me! I’m either completely honest or I’m really stupid!’ It’s just about the perfect cover.”

Jennifer’s eyes popped open at that thought. If Luthor were indeed a criminal mastermind, she’d be the perfect camouflage for him. A politically-minded DA would take one look at her situation and think exactly what her father had just said.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before saying, “I hear you, Pop. I’ll watch my step.”

He smiled and patted her hand. “That’s my girl. I’m sorry, but I have to get back to the office. No rest for the good guys.”

She crossed her arms in mock sternness. “When are you going to retire, Pop?”

He smiled again, softer this time. “When my doctor tells me I can’t handle it.” Then his face lit up with an impish grin. “Or when your mother tells me it’s time, whichever comes first.”

“I bet she wins that contest.”

“She probably will, Jen.” They hugged before parting. “Work hard and make good use of that excellent mind you have.”

“I’ll do my best, Pop. See you for dinner next Friday night?”

He laughed and pointed his index finger at her. “If you don’t show up I’ll arrest you myself.”

~~~~~

Over the years since then, she’d occasionally reported little things to her father that proved nothing but made her furrow her brow in thought. And she’d noticed a correlation between spectacular successes or failures in law enforcement and Mr. Luthor’s mood on the following days. Cops make a big bust? Luthor frowns and chews harder on his cigars and his staff stays away from him. Cops miss something big? Luthor smiles more and smokes less and his staff people don’t get their heads handed to them for saying ‘Good morning’ in the hallway.

She’d learned that she could practically set her day’s agenda by the morning crime news.

And the situation with Lois Lane had created more tense undercurrents than any other she’d ever been associated with in her time here. In the past three weeks, more people had come in or left her boss’ inner office with sweaty faces or nervous tics or clenched fists than ever before. She’d read the papers and heard the news and she knew that the Lane woman was acting like a vigilante instead of a reporter, but she didn’t know why. And she was sure that Lois Lane was the reason for all the tension she was sensing.

She’d been putting off this decision for too long. It was time to either fish or cut bait, and Jennifer didn’t like to postpone the inevitable.

She picked up the phone and dialed a number she knew well. “Matt Schwartz’ office, please. Good. Yes, I’ll wait.”

After a long moment, her stockbroker picked up. “Conner and Conner Investing, Matthew Schwartz speaking. How may I make you so much richer today?”

“Hi, Matt. This is Jennifer Marlowe.”

“Ah, yes, Ms. Marlowe, of the California Marlowes! What can I do for you today?”

“I want you to convert all my LexCorp stock and options into cash as fast as you possibly can. Speed is more important than maximizing profit.”

Matt hesitated, then said, “Are you sure about this? If you sell over the next few days – “

“No. Now. All of it. Don’t dump it, but get it done by close of business today.”

He sighed into the phone. “Okay, if that’s what you want. Mind if I ask why?”

“I’ve been presented with an impressive opportunity and I don’t want to miss it.”

He waited a moment, then asked, “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“That’s it. Can you do it?”

“Well, yeah, but you’ll lose some profit if you sell it all today.”

“Just do it, Matt. I have some places I’d like to put that money in a few days. I don’t want to get taxed to death on those meager profits you’re going to earn for me.”

The broker hesitated another moment, then asked, “You don’t have any information the Securities and Exchange Commission would frown on you having, do you?”

“Matt, I am not trading on insider information. This I promise you as a cop’s daughter.”

Matt sighed into the phone. “I will do it, Ms. Marlowe, beginning as soon as we hang up.”

“In that case, we’ll chat later. Bye.”

She disconnected the phone line to call Mrs. Cox once again and her eyes flickered up at the movement near the stairway door. A young man with a thin mustache and wearing a LexCorp parking attendant’s uniform with its short-billed flat cap was exiting the stairs and heading her way.

Jennifer’s first thought on seeing him was that he looked like a scruffy nerfherder, thin and fair of face with hard eyes focused on her boss’ office door. He walked oddly, almost as if he were more female than –

In her mind, she superimposed a woman’s features on his face. It was a skill her father had taught her when she was in grade school, one that had come in handy several times. She waited for the mental ‘click’ that told her that she’d found a match.

She almost laughed aloud when the image ‘clicked’ in her mind. The young intruder wasn’t a man. It was a woman.

A woman named Lois Lane.

Jennifer would have bet every naturally blonde strand of hair on her head that Lois was not here for a social visit. And the way her denim uniform jacket bounced hard against her right hip told the cop’s daughter that the visitor was carrying a weapon in her pocket.

Standard procedure dictated that if anyone ever got this far with any kind of weapon, the staff was to press the emergency button under any desk and sprint for the safe room in the far corner of the office. That room would withstand anything short of repeated rocket impacts, and triggering that alarm would also alert LexCorp security of an armed intruder. The entire floor could be flooded with any number of debilitating gasses in seconds, and because the alarm would also activate a hermetic seal on Mr. Luthor’s door, no one could get in without the aforementioned rockets.

Jennifer’s hand crept under her desk.

She made eye contact with Lois.

Lois slowed down and stared directly into Jennifer’s soul.

Jennifer tried to read Lois’ mind and failed.

She thought about how much money she’d made working here and how little real evidence she had of any wrongdoing on Luthor’s part.

She thought about what she knew, what little she could prove, what she suspected, and what her father had told her over the years.

She thought about having to start over at another company, maybe even another line of business altogether, and how difficult that would be.

Then she pressed the button to unlock her boss’ office door.

“Have a nice day, sir,” she called.

Lois nodded at her once and pushed into the office.

Jennifer picked up the phone and called her father at home. When he answered, she spoke the code phrase they’d developed for just such a final occasion.

“Dad? This is Jennifer. The Hindenburg is about to go down in flames. Yes. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Bye.”

She hung up the phone, then pushed her chair back and picked up her purse. “Bailey?”

The serious brunette at the next desk gave her a quizzical look. “Yeah, Jen?”

“Let’s go get some lunch. My treat.”

“Where?”

“You like Mexican?”

“If there’s a side order of antacids, sure. What’s the place called?”

“Café Policia, One Police Plaza.”

Bailey hesitated a moment, then smiled and picked up her clutch. “Sounds like a plan to me. You’re on.”

*****

Clark was beyond frustrated. There was no trace of Lois to be found anywhere. None of his snitches had any current gossip on her, and the few of Lois’ snitches who would talk to him had nothing. Even Bobby Bigmouth came up dry, despite Clark’s warning that he would force-feed Bobby a Happy Meal the next time they met.

Bobby’s face had fallen so far at the threat that Clark had taken pity on him and bought the perpetually ravenous man a Chinese feast.

As he walked back to the Planet to check in with Perry, a police car swished past him with lights flashing but no siren. More importantly, Clark heard through the open window the radio dispatcher say the words “Gunshot victim outside LexCorp headquarters.”

Those words galvanized him to action.

He thought about slipping into an alley to change into Superman, but instead he kept his civvies on and began running at top human speed toward the convergence of lights eleven blocks away. Now he could hear sirens in the distance, and he followed them as they gathered around the gunshot victim like white-tipped sharks assessing a shipwreck survivor.

He whipped off his glasses and stared through the intervening buildings to see what was going on. When he saw Nigel St. John being loaded into an ambulance, he picked up his speed even more and risked hurdling the hood of a parked car to shorten his trip.

If this wasn’t Lois’ handiwork he’d eat his word processor.

He slipped his glasses back on and slowed to a fast jog as he entered the alley where Nigel’s car was parked. The paramedics were still securing Nigel’s gurney into the ambulance, so he started breathing heavily and pulled out his press pass.

Two burly uniformed officers held out their hands to stop him. “Hey, buddy, you got no business in there. Back off, okay?”

He lifted his ID and panted, “Daily Planet! Need to see – gasp – Bill Henderson!”

One cop shook his head, but the other frowned and said, “What’s your name?”

“Clark Kent.”

“And you’re with what paper?”

“The – pant – the Daily Planet!”

The second cop turned to the first one and said, “This is the guy Henderson told us to look out for. Wants to see him if he shows up.”

The first cop shrugged. “So take him to Henderson. He can yell at both of you.”

The second cop looked at Clark. “Come on, Kent, let’s go find us a detective.”

They hadn’t taken three steps when Bill Henderson broke away from the group around the car’s open driver’s door and waved for Clark to come closer. “About time you got here, Kent. Stan, you go back over with Mitchell and don’t let anyone else in the alley.”

The cop with Clark nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Bill took Clark’s arm and dragged him to the open ambulance doors. “You can have two minutes with Mr. British Super Secret Agent here. They’ve already hit him up with some painkillers and he’s a little loopy. See what you can get from him.”

“For publication?”

“I don’t care if you put it on a billboard outside the mayor’s office! Just find out where Lois is.”

Clark hopped up into the ambulance and leaned over Nigel’s prone form. “Hi, Nigel. I guess you won’t be throwing punches at me any time soon.”

The female paramedic glanced at Clark with wide eyes, then went back to work security the plasma IV attached to Nigel’s arm. Nigel rolled his head toward Clark and opened one eye, then the other. “Oh! Hello, Mr. Kent. Fancy meeting you here.”

“I don’t fancy it at all. I just want to know if Lois was the one who shot you.”

Nigel grinned almost sideways. “Miss Lane? No, it was a young man named Tyler something, or perhaps something Tyler, I do not know which. Last name, first name, don’t know. He shot me.”

“Why?”

Nigel frowned as if studying Clark’s glasses. “Why what? Oh, you mean why did Tyler shoot me? Perhaps he was angry about something, but I really cannot say because I don’t know. Don’t know, don’t know, don’t know – “

Clark reached down and thumped him between the eyes with one finger. “Stay with us, Nigel.”

The woman paramedic turned to Clark and hissed, “You can’t do that, sir! This man’s been shot!”

“He wasn’t shot in the forehead and I won’t touch his shoulder.” Clark looked back at Nigel, who now appeared much more lucid. “Answer my question.”

“I can’t. I’m drugged.”

“You’re not as think as you drugged I am.”

The nonsense seemed to baffle Nigel for a moment and Clark took advantage. “Why did Lois shoot you, Nigel?”

“She wanted information.”

“Oh? What kind of information?”

“She wanted to know about – “ Nigel abruptly clamped his mouth shut as if abruptly realizing that he’d said the wrong thing.

“Come on, Nigel, spill it. Or do you want another thump?”

Nigel’s eyes almost crossed as he stared at Clark’s hand approaching his face. “No! I mean, no, don’t thump me. I could get a concussion.”

The paramedic frowned. “That’s very unlikely, sir.”

Nigel blinked. “I don’t think as strong as he knows he is.”

Clark and the paramedic both paused at that piece of gibberish. The paramedic shook her head at Clark and said, “I don’t think you’ll get anything more lucid from him than that, sir.”

Clark sighed deeply. “Okay. If Lois shoots Luthor, we’ll have a charge of obstructing justice to add to his crimes.”

Nigel’s eyes opened wide. “What? Wait! I have never obstructed justice! Not today, I mean.”

Clark smiled. “Look, Nigel, I’m all for you getting well so we can go a couple more rounds together, but it won’t happen unless you tell us where Lois went. Okay?”

Nigel held Clark’s gaze for a moment, then exhaled sharply. “Very well. The last time I saw her she was entering the LexCorp parking garage via the side entrance. From there she has access to almost every floor of the main office.”

“You think she’s going after your boss?”

“Probably.” Nigel’s mouth grew into a lopsided smile. “Perhaps we will all be quite fortunate and they will shoot each other. Would that not be a fitting end for such a bothersome woman?”

Clark licked his lips. “I don’t think it would be.” He reached out and patted Nigel on the leg. “You get well, okay? You need to be healthy so you can serve all those long sentences the judge is going to give you.” He turned to the paramedic. “What’s his prognosis?”

She shrugged. “Assuming the surgeons don’t find more damage than I think he has, and assuming that he doesn’t pop an artery on the way to the ER, he’ll live. He might not have full use of his arm without some extensive physical therapy.”

Clark smiled. “Hear that, Nigel? You’re probably going to live. Maybe I can come and cheer you on while you do your therapy.”

Ignoring Nigel’s drugged glare of death, Clark turned and hopped to the street. “Bill, I’m going after Lois. Nigel says she’s going to Luthor’s office to shoot him.”

Henderson frowned. “She’s already in the building or we’d have found her by now. And we can’t get in there without a warrant or a reported criminal act.”

Clark lifted one eyebrow. “I can get in. And I’ll call you on Perry’s cell phone when I find her. Wish me luck.”

Henderson shook his head. “Can’t let you do that, Clark. In fact, I can’t let you go in there by yourself at all.”

“How are you going to stop me?”

“Like this.” Henderson turned and took three slow, meandering steps away from Clark and put his hand on another uniformed officer’s shoulder. “Patrolman, I want you to stay with this man.”

“Which man, sir?”

Henderson turned and pointed at Clark, who by this time was nearly at the door at the end of the alley. “Oh, rats. It was that guy right down there. He’s pretty fast, isn’t he? Look, if you see him again, make sure you stay with him.”

The patrolman frowned and nodded. “Sure. Uh, how long do I stay with him?”

Henderson shrugged. “I’d say fifteen seconds should do it.”

Clark smiled to himself as he the door closed and cut off the rest of the conversation. Bill was a better friend to Lois than she knew. Maybe Clark could get them both to admit it to each other once all this was over.

First, though, he had to make sure this thing was actually over.

>>> Chapter Nine

Lex opened a large soft-sided briefcase and dropped a handful of file folders in the bottom, then reached down to his desk drawer to pick up several more. He’d thought about taking only the ones he knew would incriminate him the most, but at the last moment he decided to take as many as he could and destroy those he didn’t need later. As long as he had the blackmail material on the state and local officials and judges, he could carve out a new life elsewhere.

A soft click told him that his office door had opened. He straightened up with the files in his hands and said, “It’s about time you got—”

He stopped when he saw, instead of Nigel or Mrs. Cox, someone he didn’t recognize holding a magnum revolver in his hand.

In a surprisingly high and thin voice, the young man said, “Don’t put the files down, Lex. Just keep holding them.”

“Young man—”

“If you drop those files I will shoot you.”

The voice didn’t match the image of a LexCorp parking attendant despite the uniform. “Who are you?”

He pulled his cap off and tossed it away with his left hand. “You mean you don’t recognize the woman you claim to love, Lex? I’m completely devastated.”

It wasn’t a young man. It was a woman – Lois?

This was Lois?

He stared, open-mouthed, as she yanked the fake mustache from her upper lip, flinching as she did so. Without the cap and with an unobstructed view of her face, he realized that it was, indeed, Lois Lane pointing a pistol at his chest.

“What – Lois? What are you doing?”

“To use Nigel’s phrase, I’m climbing the food chain. And guess who I find as the apex predator?” She lifted the pistol and aimed it at his head. “I find you.”

He took a deep breath and held it for a long moment before letting it out slowly.

Upon reflection, perhaps Nigel was correct in his assessment of Lois as a threat instead of being a potential asset. He didn’t know how she’d breached his security and entered his office without being stopped, but he was certain he could talk her out of doing him any harm.

He began a turn toward his desk so he could put the files down. “Lois, my dear, let me explain what – “

She pulled the hammer back on the pistol and quick-stepped around the desk for a clear field of fire. “I told you not to let those files go, Lex. You drop them and I will shoot you. And this time I don’t think I’ll aim for an arm or a foot.”

He froze in place, the stack of files just inches from the desktop. He could drop them and snatch his favorite thirty-two caliber gold-plated semi-auto pistol out of his desk within a second. But if Lois was speaking the truth and not just trying to alarm him, she’d have time to shoot him at least twice before he could aim.

He looked down the exposed cylinder of her weapon, trying to see if she’d reloaded since the last time she’d fired it.

“I reloaded at the top of the stairs, Lex,” she growled. “I needed the breather. And I put the magnum rounds in this time. No thirty-eight special bullets for you. You know what kind of hole a three-fifty-seven magnum will make coming out the other side, don’t you?”

He nodded slowly, because he did know. He might have risked a thirty-eight bullet, but the magnum round would produce a crippling if not immediately fatal wound at this range. His only weapon was his voice, his only hope of escape were his next words.

“Please, Lois, let me speak. If you’ll tell me why you’re so angry, perhaps I can explain the situation to you.”

“Really?” she asked. “Can you really explain it all? I wish you would, Lex. Just step back a little. Slowly, now. You don’t want me to twitch my finger at the wrong time.”

He took three slow steps back and stopped. She fished in her jeans pocket with her left hand and pulled out a microcassette recorder, then pressed a button on the recorder and placed it on the edge of the desk. “This is Lois Lane, recording Lex Luthor in Lex’ private office. I’ve been working on my last story, the best one of my career, and I’ve tracked the man called ‘The Boss’ to his lair. Now I’m going to get a full confession, or at least one good enough to keep the investigation going.”

“Investigation? What investigation?”

“The one that the DA and the Daily Planet are going to cooperate on. The one that will condemn you to prison and destroy your organization. The one that will be my epitaph!”

Lex opened his mouth and smiled, then leaned toward her. She moved her hand to her right and pulled the trigger.

Even over the thunder of the discharge and the flash of heat and residue from the blast, the bullet whispered ‘wheet’ as it whipped past Luthor’s head and smashed into the wall behind him, destroying two shelves and most of the pieces of art on each one. “You don’t move unless I tell you to!” she screamed.

Lex knew his expression matched the one he’d worn the day Superman had fired his prized Colt .45 at his chest and then caught that bullet before it hit him during the days when Lex had been testing the hero, but he didn’t care. Lois was all but unhinged in her quest to bring him down, and he had to try something.

Then he realized – she’d referred to the investigation as her epitaph.

She still thought she was dying!

That was his ace in the hole, his leverage into her psyche, his escape pod. His get-out-of-jail-free card, if you will.

Lex relaxed and smiled warmly. “Lois, my dear, you don’t have cancer.”

She blinked once but the pistol didn’t waver. “What?”

“You don’t have cancer or anything else terminal. You’re at least as healthy as I am, perhaps more so.”

She tilted her head to one side. “I am, huh?”

“Yes, you are. Perry White told me himself. He said that your doctor confused your diagnosis with that of a comatose patient in a retirement center.”

Her eyes narrowed and she sidled closer to him. “Perry told you I’m not sick? That I don’t have terminal pancreatic cancer?”

“No, my dear, you don’t. Isn’t that wonderful news?”

“It would be fantastic news – if it were true.”

Lex’ mouth fell open. She didn’t believe him? “But – but it’s the truth! You aren’t sick at all!”

She shook her head slightly. “That’s pretty weak, Lex. You found out that I was on the warpath and you found out why, so you’ve been holding this in reserve just in case I got to you.”

“No, Lois, it’s really the truth! You can call your doctor and ask him!”

“Like I’d believe anything you told me right now!”

He lowered his voice and put as much charm in his next words as he possibly could. “My darling Lois, surely you believe that I love you.”

She straightened her head and the pistol barrel lowered – until it was pointing at his groin. “I think, Lex, that I’m going to shoot you right in the gonads for that particular insult.”

The phrase “Bad move, Space Cadet!” rang out in his head, complete with the original distorted computer-generated tones from the Phoenix arcade game. “No!” he cried out. “That – isn’t necessary!”

“Then you’d better answer my questions when I ask them. I’m not very patient these days.”

Before Lex could respond, a soft knock sounded at the door. “Lois? Is that you?”

“You come in here and I’ll kill your boss!” she snapped.

“It’s Clark. And I’d rather you didn’t shoot Luthor just yet, even if he sort of does still own the Planet and kind of still is my boss.”

“Clark?” she breathed. “Is – is it really you?”

“It’s me. May I come in?”

Lex was astounded to see her dash sudden tears from her eyes with her free hand. “Yes. Yes, Clark, come on in. But make it slow and easy, okay?”

“Nothing but.”

He slowly pushed the door open and stepped into the office, then eased the door shut behind him. His smile seemed to light up Lois’ face and she sobbed once. “Hi, partner,” he said softly. “You have this interview all wrapped up yet?”

Lex took a slow step toward his desk, hoping for a chance at his pistol, but Lois’ weapon snapped up again. “Last warning, Lex. Start talking or I just might pull this trigger until I hear a click instead of a bang.”

Clark lifted his hand. “That’s not necessary, Lois. We don’t need his testimony.”

“What?” snapped Lois.

“What?” blurted Lex.

Clark smiled at Lex. “Sorry, old man, but we just want you arrested. Nigel St. John is on his way to the hospital, and I’d guess he’s already made a deal with the DA to save his own skin. He’d much rather see you in prison than go to the gas chamber himself.”

Stunned, Lex asked the only question that occurred to him. “Hospital? What happened to him?”

“Oh, I shot him,” Lois offered. “Do you think he’ll live, Clark?”

Kent ignored Lex’ shocked expression. “The paramedics thought so. It was just his shoulder, but I doubt he’ll be able to fight as well as before. Especially at the age he’ll be after he serves out all of his sentences.”

Lex knew his mouth was hanging open again when Kent snorted quietly. Then the younger man continued, “Not only does the DA have Nigel’s testimony, he’s got Dr. Leibowitz’ confession.”

Lex saw Lois’ mouth spread into a cruel grin and he blurted out “But Nigel said he stopped the delivery of—“

Both Clark and Lois nodded in unison as Lex shut up – eight words too late. “That’s good news, Clark. What about Alan Robertson’s tape?”

“The DA’s office has it, and the prosecutors there would really like to talk to him. But it might be a little difficult to get him to testify. According to the FBI, he slipped onto a flight out of St. Louis International Airport yesterday afternoon. The flight went to New Orleans, and then on to Haiti. We have an extradition treaty with Haiti, but it’s a little hard getting people out of there at times.”

Lois chuckled. “Guess I scared him more than I thought.”

“Oh, you scared him, all right. He didn’t like talking to me at all, but I think he would have moved in with me and become my butler and personal toilet-scrubber to avoid another encounter with you.”

No one spoke for a long moment. Then Lois asked, “So what do we do with the Boss here?”

Clark slowly walked around the far side of the desk from Lois and her deadly aim. “I think we should tie him up and call Bill Henderson to come get him.”

Lex shook his head. “No police officer can enter this building without either an invitation or a warrant. And I’m not inviting them in.”

Clark slipped a cell phone out of his pocket. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll just tell him that someone tried to shoot you and poof! The police have their probable cause to enter the building in force and come up here.”

“But no one tried to shoot me!”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure Lois tried. That big hole in the wall behind you is proof of that.”

Even with Kent in the room, Lex could weasel out of this. Lois wouldn’t risk hurting her precious partner and friend. “No, no, that’s not what happened at all! Lois was showing me a weapon she’d found outside and it accidentally discharged. No one tried to shoot anyone.”

Lois lifted both eyebrows. “Well, I think I can fix that.”

She lowered her aim again and pulled the trigger.

The bullet slammed into the floor and exploded the carpet and wooden parquet under-flooring between Lex’ ankles. He went down in a painful heap and dropped the handful of files he was still holding.

As he curled into a ball and grabbed at his legs to check for missing or bleeding body parts, he heard Kent say, “Lois, don’t! You don’t have to do it this way!”

“Yes I do!” she almost wailed. “I have to do this! I have to take down the Boss! I have to stop him while I still can!”

Kent’s hands were suddenly on Lex’ legs, apparently also checking for injuries. “Yeah. About that, Lois, um – you don’t have cancer.”

“What? What do – wait a minute, that’s what he said!”

“It may have been the only truthful thing he’s ever said to you, but for once he was being truthful.” Kent stood. “You don’t have cancer. You’re fine.”

Having determined that he’d suffered no serious wounds, Lex opened his eyes and looked at Lois. The pistol was drifting downward and her hand was relaxed.

This might be his last chance. Lex rolled slowly to one side. If he could grab –

The sudden pain in his right wrist from a size eleven loafer stopped him. Kent looked down at him and said, “You be still, Lex, or I just might grab one ankle in each hand and make a Jean Claude Van Damme wish.”

“What?” grunted Lex.

“Think about splitting the turkey’s wishbone at Thanksgiving and you’ll get it.”

Van Damme’s signature move was the horizontal side splits. His legs could spread out to a straight line underneath him. Lex’ legs couldn’t do that without ripping and shredding muscle and sinew.

The image chilled him and he decided that resistance was futile.

He looked up at Lois and sighed when he saw her expression. Her tear-filled eyes were gazing at Kent as if he were the second-richest man in the world and had just offered her the moon. If only the man’s foot wasn’t cutting off all the blood flow to his hand, he might be able to snatch Lois’ pistol from her and shoot them both.

Then Lois lifted the weapon and pointed it at his face. “Go ahead and tie him up, Clark. I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you.”

Kent’s foot slowly came up and released his arm. The bones felt as if they’d been bent to their limit, and his fingers wouldn’t obey his instructions. Even if Lois had placed her pistol on the desk and walked away, he couldn’t have made his move now.

Kent came back with what looked like drapery cords. “Best I could find on the spur of the moment, Lex,” he said. “Hope they aren’t too expensive.”

“Do you care?” Lex growled.

“Not really. Now roll over on your stomach – come on! There, that’s a good criminal, good boy. Now put your hands behind your back if you don’t want me to pull them back there.”

Lex obeyed. Kent seemed to take an extra bit of pleasure securing the restraints on Lex’ wrists. “That’s – ow! – a little tight, don’t you think, Kent?”

“Nope. I think they’re just about perfect. Oh, Lex, you’ll need to see a doctor about those splinter wounds on your feet and shins. Most of them have already stopped bleeding, but we don’t want you to get an infection, now do we?”

Lex ignored the younger man’s sarcasm. “May I sit up?” he asked.

Lois shook her head. “I think you’ll be fine right where you are. Clark, could you call Henderson now?”

Kent smiled at her in the same misty-eyed, soft-hearted way that she’d beamed at him. “Of course. Would you mind putting your pistol on the desk? I doubt you’d want to get accidentally shot by the police now that you know you’re not dying.”

Wonderful, thought Lex. Bested by a mere woman. It was most humiliating.

He didn’t care how long it took, but he vowed in his heart that he’d have his revenge against Lois Lane and Clark Kent.

*****

Lois watched the police come in through the door, snickered as they replaced the woven silken cords on Lex’ wrists with metal handcuffs, saw them lift Lex up and take him away, and felt Clark’s hand on her shoulder the whole time. When it finally got down to just Bill, Clark, and her, Clark looked at Bill and said, “Can you give us a minute? I think she has some questions she needs answers to.”

Bill gave them both his patented world-weary glare. “I have some questions for her, too.”

“You have her tape recorder. It was running almost from the time she came in until you knocked on the door. There’s a lot of dead air in there, unfortunately, because Luthor wouldn’t answer any of our questions about his real businesses.”

“I can’t let a prisoner out of my custody, Kent. You know that as well as she does.”

“Have you arrested her?”

“Well, no, but that’s just a technicality at this point. She has to come with me, one way or another.”

Clark straightened and looked directly into Henderson’s eyes. “I give you my word that she won’t leave this office without you.”

Henderson hesitated, then shook his head. “Fine. Talk to her alone. Just don’t spread this part around, okay? I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks, Bill. I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”

Henderson turned and walked toward the door. “That’ll be a first. I’ll put it in my journal, save it for my memoir. Lois Lane was a good girl today.” He paused with his hand on the knob. “One minute. That’s all I can give you. I need to get some people in here to collect evidence, so don’t touch anything.”

Clark nodded. “That’ll be enough time. Thank you.”

As the door closed, they turned to face each other. She looked into his deep chocolate eyes and smiled, unable to think of anything to say.

He touched her cheek. “You’ve lost some weight.”

“Yeah. Haven’t been eating very well.”

He gave her a lop-sided grin. “I’m not surprised. And you’ve lost some hair, too.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Now that I’m not facing chemotherapy, I’m pretty sure it’ll grow back out.”

“I’m looking forward to that.”

“Hey, I kind of like it short. I may keep it cut back.”

“That’s your choice. Personally, I think you look good in hair whether it’s long or short.”

She giggled. “Thank you. It’s good to see you, too, Clark.”

He leaned toward her and kissed her on the forehead, then lowered his head to touch hers. “Lois, I can’t tell you how scared we all were.”

She closed her eyes and tried to hold back the tears. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t think I could take being fussed over by all of you, being treated like fine crystal, having everybody be so – so nice!” She looked up at him. “Even Cat would have been kind to me. I didn’t want to put her through that.”

He laughed softly. “And you’re so compassionate toward those healthier than you think you are.”

After a moment she joined him. “Yeah, that does sound pretty dumb, doesn’t it?”

“A little.”

She pulled back but kept her hands on his arms. “How long have you known I wasn’t dying of cancer?”

He tried to put on a frown, but she could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “Your doctor tried to call you at home and at the office the same day you disappeared. You didn’t answer, so he ended up calling Perry and told him you’d gotten a wrong diagnosis.” He straightened his arms and held her there. “And you owe Bobby Bigmouth big time. That was his friend Walt whose little toe you shot off.”

She felt her eyes widen. “What? Oh, no! I shot his toe off?”

“Yes. But before you panic, listen. The orthopedic surgeon on call repaired his foot and he’s walking just fine now, as long as he has his therapeutic shoe insert. Henderson talked to him about testifying against you, but Walt realized he’d have to reveal who sold you the pistol, so he declined to provide testimony. And none of your other – ah, ‘interview subjects’ – are in any position to press charges against you. Big Mike insists he accidentally shot himself. Alan Robertson is in Haiti and isn’t coming back any time soon. You didn’t shoot Jenna Leibowitz or Karen Carter, and their memories are still scrambled by whatever you gave them. So nobody is going to testify against you. Except maybe Lex, of course, and you didn’t actually shoot him.”

“Huh. How about that?” Another thought came to her mind. “What does Perry think of me now?”

“I think he said something about you being dumber than a box of rocks and that you’d better bring in the story of his career – and he said his, not yours – for him to talk the suits upstairs into keeping you on the payroll as a researcher. Assuming, of course, you stay out of jail.”

“Researcher?”

His face grew sad. “I think you’ve worked yourself out of investigative reporting, Lois, at least on the undercover side.”

She knocked his arms apart and dove against his chest. “Oh, Clark, I’m such an idiot! Can you ever forgive me?”

His arms enveloped her, warmed her soul, and pressed her against his solid body. “Maybe. Probably, even.”

She sniffed once and pushed her face further down into his embrace. “Thank you! Oh, thank you!”

“Hey, what are partners for, anyway?”

She squeezed him for all she was worth for a long moment, then leaned back. “That’s something we need to get straight, and this is as good a time as any. I’m not just your partner, Clark. I’m in love with you.”

She felt him grow still. “Lois – do you know what you’re saying?”

“Yes. I know exactly what I’m saying. And I’ve had lots of time to think about what you said to me in the park, too. I think you love me almost as much as I love you.”

His body relaxed slightly. “Well, there might be some disagreement there.”

She laughed. “I don’t care who loves who more! I love you and I want to marry you!”

His head rocked back and he laughed. “This is not at all how I expected this to go.”

“What did you expect? A romantic dinner, a walk in the park, a sudden shower drenching both of us, you kneeling in front of me in the rain, you offering me a ring, me saying something completely stupid like ‘not now’ and totally messing everything up—”

“What? What do you mean, ‘not now’?”

“No, Clark, no! That’s just what’s in my mind and I have no idea why it would be there. I’ve been thinking about this ever since I got that diagnosis. I was trying to wrap this up as quickly as I could so we could spend just” – she sniffed – “just a few weeks together. But now we can spend a lifetime together! I want to marry you as soon as we can find someone to ask me if I want to take this man.”

He nodded. “That sounds wonderful. But can we delay the public announcement until we get a chance to talk some more? There are a few things you need to know about me.”

She pulled his head down and kissed him softly. “I already know everything I need to know.”

His head slowly rose from hers and his eyes eventually opened. “Yeah. Well, there may be a couple of things you’ll want to hear before we buy the matching rings.”

“If you say so, darling.”

She pulled his head down again, but before their lips met, a knock sounded at the door. Reluctantly, she pulled away from him and called out, “Come on in, Bill.”

Henderson opened the door and slipped in. “Okay, Lois, it’s time to go downtown and answer some questions.” He looked at the bullet hole in the wall, the wrecked shelves around it, the broken ceramic pieces littering the floor, and he sighed deeply. “A lot of questions, actually. Come on.”

She nodded and followed him to the door, then stopped and turned. “Clark? I forgot to ask you what the doctor said was actually wrong with me.”

He smiled back. “You were a bit run-down and needed a couple of days of rest. That’s it.”

Her jaw dropped. “That’s it?” she barked.

Clark nodded.

“That’s all that was wrong with me?”

His smile faded a little and he nodded again.

“You mean that I did all this – this – this stuff because I thought I was dying and all I really needed was a good night’s sleep?”

Clark’s face smoothed over and he stood perfectly still.

Lois took two dangerous steps toward her partner. “Are you joking? Because if you are I’m going to rip something very precious to you from your anatomy! I will make you pay if this is some kind of gag!”

Clark actually looked alarmed. He lifted his hands in surrender, took a step back, and said, “Lois, I promise you that’s what the doctor told Perry. You’re fine, or at least you were before you started sleeping in fleabag hotels and eating who knows what out of the neighborhood trash cans.”

She stuck out her index finger and started forward again, but Henderson grabbed her arm and turned her around to face the door. And he didn’t let go of her until after Lex’ office door closed behind them.

“I’m getting you out of there, Lane, before you really do hurt someone badly enough for me to arrest you.”

“What? You mean – I’m not under arrest?”

“Not yet. But you are a material witness and you need to meet with the DA about your recent activities. So if you come along quietly, I won’t put cuffs on your wrists.”

She growled audibly and crossed her arms as they faced the elevators, but the absurdity of her emotional flip-flop with Clark got to her after a few moments. She started laughing softly.

Bill glared at her for a moment, then he broke into a thin smile, which for him was practically the equivalent of a full belly laugh. “Yeah, Lois, it’s funny now, but I don’t think Kent sees the humor yet.”

The elevator car arrived and the doors ghosted open. “He will, Bill. He will.”

As Henderson pressed the button for the ground floor, she leaned back against the wall and said, “I’ll make sure Clark sees a lot of things I’ve hidden from him up to now.”

Just before the doors closed, Lois threw her hand against the edge and forced them open again. “Bill! Please, fifteen seconds more.”

He took a breath and Lois was sure he was about to refuse, but instead he sighed and seemed to collapse in on himself. “You know he hunted for you the whole time you were missing, don’t you? I don’t think he slept more than four hours straight during that time. Perry told me that Clark would walk on water for you or drown trying to do it. I believe he would, too.” Bill tilted his head toward Luthor’s office door. “Go ahead. But if you don’t come this time I will have to arrest you for real.”

She grinned grabbed him in a quick hug. “Thanks! Be right back.”

She sprinted across the open office area and dashed a tear from her eye. Just as she reached for the doorknob, the door opened inward and Clark stood there with a startled look on his face and a cellphone in his hand. “I’ll tell you the rest later, Perry,” he said to the phone. Then he closed it and eyed her cautiously.

“You haven’t come back to yell at me again, have you?”

She answered by leaping against his body, locking her arms around his neck, and plastering her lips against his. After a moment, he wrapped his arms around her and melted into the kiss.

After about ten seconds and fifteen all-too-brief years, Lois lowered her head to his massive chest and squeezed tight. “I have to go, Clark. Will you wait for me?”

“Of course I will. You shouldn’t even have to ask.”

“No. I mean – “ she pulled back and looked him in the eyes “ – I might have to go to prison for what I’ve done. I don’t know how likely it is that I’ll end up behind bars, but it might be some time before I’m free. In a legal sense, that is.”

“Lois, you don’t – “

“I need to know if you’ll wait for me. Even if I have to spend several years in prison! I can serve whatever sentence they give me if I know you’ll be waiting for me when I get out.”

His smile softened and his hand found her hair. “I waited more than a quarter of a century to meet you, Lois. I’ve waited almost a year to hear those three wonderful words from you, and I would have waited many more if I had to. If it means that we’ll be together, I can wait for you as long as I need to.” He drew her close again and put his lips next to hers. “I love you, Lois Lane.”

She felt the tears come again. She felt his lips on hers. It was the nearest thing to Heaven she could imagine. She was on top of the world.

Then she felt Bill Henderson standing next to her. A quick glance to one side confirmed it – she’d run out of time. His face spoke volumes about her abuse of his generosity.

Well, that and the handcuffs he was brandishing.

She almost giggled as she brushed away her tears. “I have to go, Clark. Wait for me.”

He planted a quick kiss on her mouth and stepped back. “As long as it takes. No matter how long it takes.”

Bill took her hand and moved the cuffs toward her wrist, then stopped. “Do I need these, Lane?”

“No,” she smiled. “I’ll come peacefully, Inspector.”

As she entered the elevator again, she turned to see Clark enter beside her. “You shouldn’t be here, Kent,” Bill muttered. “We usually allow only attorneys to go downtown with material witnesses.”

Almost unconsciously, her hand entwined with Clark’s. “Don’t worry, Inspector,” Clark smiled. “You have her for the duration of the investigation. But I’m going to have her for the rest of our lives.”

She leaned against the man she loved and put her other hand on their joined ones. Her eyes closed of their own accord and she blessed the day she’d barged into Perry’s office so he could see her. Then she heard Bill try to stifle a chortle and fail. “I never thought I’d see the day when Lois Lane wrapped up a story holding hands with a man she claimed to love. Let me be the first to wish the two of you the best of luck. I have a feeling you’re both going to need it.”

Lois didn’t voice the thought, but it still ran through her mind. She loved Clark. Clark loved her. And she wasn’t dying any time soon. How could she possibly be any luckier than she was at this moment?

“Bill,” Clark asked, “what do you think will happen to Lois? Will she serve time?”

Bill sighed. “I don’t know and I don’t want to get your hopes up. But I’ve seen a couple of other cases similar to this, and the DA is usually willing to make deals with citizens who pull stupid stunts like this as long as it’s the first time and there’s a low probability of repeating the behavior. Of course, you shot a bunch of people, Lane, and that might change things.”

She shrugged. “Nobody died, Bill, and I didn’t keep anything I took.”

“Those may be the only things that keep you out of prison. But I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a long probation and maybe some hefty fines.”

“She probably saved a lot of lives doing this.”

“You know that’s no excuse, Kent. She’ll still have to face the music.” The elevator stopped and the doors slid open as Bill shook his head. “Maybe if you get the right judge and the right attorney and the Iron Maiden isn’t mad enough to lock you up and lose the key.”

“Who’s the Iron Maiden?” asked Clark.

“Deputy Assistant District Attorney Mayson Drake. She hasn’t been there eight months and that’s her reputation. If she gets your case, Lane, you’ve got a real tough uphill battle to fight.”

She felt Clark grip her hand tighter as he led her across the building’s entrance lobby. “We’ll get through it together, Bill,” he said. “I told her I’ll wait for her and I meant it.”

“Yeah, you just remember that when Drake files a notebook full of charges against your girlfriend. Worst case scenario, she’ll face trial for grand theft auto, multiple counts of assault with a deadly weapon, vigilantism, illegal possession of a handgun, trespassing, intimidation, interference with police investigations, unlawful restraint, and who knows what else. That can add up to a lot of years behind bars.” Bill paused and looked into Lois’ eyes. “I’m not trying to scare you, Lois, but you need to know what might happen to you.”

Lois turned to Clark and smiled again. “I’ll face it, Bill, whatever it is. With Clark in my corner, I can face anything.” She lifted their joined hands and kissed his knuckles. “I’m the luckiest woman in the universe.”

>>> Epilogue

Bailiff Alphonse Deaton stood to his full five feet seven inches of height and bellowed, “Hear ye, hear ye, court is now in session, Judge Robert B. Parker presiding. All rise!”

Everyone in the packed room rose to his or her feet as His Honor Judge Parker strode to the bench. He paused a moment to gaze out over the crowd, just as he had the previous three sessions, then gathered his robes and sat.

“Be seated, everyone,” Deaton commanded. He waited until everyone else was seated, then he moved to his place beside the bench, ready to do whatever the judge required of him.

“We are now adjudicating the case of the People vs. Lois Lane.” Parker picked up the sheet of paper in front of him. “Will the defendant please rise?”

Lois and Rhonda Albright, her attorney, both stood. “Ms. Albright,” said the judge, “this piece of paper states that you and your client have arrived at a plea agreement with the District Attorney’s office. Is that correct?”

“Yes it is, Your Honor.”

“Hmm. Assistant District Attorney Drake, do you concur with Ms. Albright’s statement?”

Mayson rose and nodded sharply. “The People agree, Your Honor.”

“Very well. This agreement states that Lois Lane, defendant in this trial, has agreed to testify in regard to what she learned last April and May about the criminal activities of a number of people, including one Lex Luthor. In return, the defendant has agreed to a probationary period of three years, less time already served, for one count of grand theft auto and two counts of endangering the public by discharging a firearm within the city limits. She will remain within this jurisdiction unless granted permission by either this court of the District Attorney’s office, and will keep said authorities apprised of her living address at all times. She is also required to remain gainfully employed for the duration of her probation.” Parker shook his head and sighed. “Should she complete this probation as indicated, the defendant’s record will be expunged.” He lowered the sheet and glared at Mayson. “Is this accurate?”

Mayson ground her teeth. “It is accurate, Your Honor.”

“Has your boss signed off on this deal? If the defendant completes her probation, her record will contain nothing of her recent activities.”

“My boss and I are fully aware of this, Your Honor.”

Parker sat back and entwined his fingers across his ample stomach. “Counselor, this is a most generous plea deal on the part of the State of New Troy and the city of Metropolis, especially since Ms. Lane stands accused of shooting at least four people, shooting directly at another, and threatening to shoot at least two more. There are also possible kidnapping and forcible detainment charges involved in this case. Not to mention things like trespassing, illegal entry of private property, carrying an unlicensed firearm within the city limits, and destruction of personal property. Can you give me some of the reasons why you would even consider making this offer?”

Mayson hesitated, then straightened even more. “Your Honor, the people whom the defendant is accused of actually shooting either can’t be located within our jurisdiction or have declined to offer testimony in this case on advice of counsel. Neither we nor the police have located any corroborating witnesses to the other shootings or threatened shootings. The two victims of her – I’m sorry, the alleged victims of her alleged threats to allegedly shoot them also refuse to testify, both on medical grounds and on advice of counsel.”

“Medical grounds?”

“The alleged victims of the alleged threats can’t remember clearly what happened. Apparently – I’m sorry, allegedly – they were given a sedative which interfered with their short-term memories. The two alleged victims cannot – or will not – corroborate each other’s stories.”

Parker sighed deeply. “So, Ms. Drake, you’re left with a defendant against whom almost no one will testify, but who is willing to offer her testimony in turn against a number of alleged criminals? And this is why you’ve given up on this case?”

Mayson closed her eyes and paused for a moment as her lips moved. The bailiff thought she was counting to ten, but he didn’t know why.

She opened her eyes and exhaled. “Your Honor, there are extenuating circumstances. The defendant is an investigative reporter for the Daily Planet, and this kind of case would fall under her purview at work. She was also operating under the incorrect belief that she was suffering from a late-stage fatal cancer, one from which she would have died within a few short weeks. The District Attorney’s office is also of the definite opinion that Ms. Lane is most unlikely to repeat her actions for any reason.”

“I see. And why, Ms. Drake, would your boss make that assumption?”

Mayson turned her head and glared at the defendant. “Aside from the facts that the defendant has no prior criminal record, has freely confessed to all of her illegal activities, and has in the past garnered numerous awards for bringing other criminals to justice – the legal way – she plans to get married as soon as she can.”

Parker’s eyebrows rose. Bailiff Deaton’s eyebrows also rose. He’d never before heard that particular piece of information included in a plea bargain review.

The judge leaned forward and spoke sharply. “Ms. Lane?”

“Yes, Your Honor?”

“What would you do if I declined to accept this plea bargain agreement? You do understand that I can do that if I see fit, don’t you?”

“I do understand that, Your Honor. I guess I’d go through a trial on some or all of the charges you mentioned earlier.”

Parker nodded. “And what about your testimony against these other defendants? What would happen to that?”

“I would still testify, Your Honor.”

Parker’s voice showed his surprise. “You would?”

“Yes, sir.” Lois’ voice rose and carried through the room. “Because I believe that justice is more important than my own comfort. I believe that our city deserves to be free of the criminal organization and the corruption that has been choking it for so many years. I want to see Metropolis free, even if I’m not.”

Deaton looked at the defendant with new respect. He’d heard all kinds of excuses, rationalizations, explanations, justifications, and the occasional confession from many on trial for their freedom in the last dozen years, but he’d never heard this before. His opinion wouldn’t make any difference to the judge, he knew, but Alphonse Deaton believed this woman. He believed that she’d do what she thought was right, irrespective of the judge’s decision.

He glanced at Judge Parker, who had sat back in his chair, his mouth open slightly and his eyes wide. Apparently this was something new to him also.

After a long moment, Parker grasped his gavel and raised it, then hesitated. “Ms. Lane, is the man who is willing to marry you in the courtroom today?”

Behind Lois, a broad-shouldered man wearing a conservative suit and a tie with an Escher design on it stood and raised his hand. “I’m here, Your Honor.”

“And what is your name?”

“Clark Kent, sir. I also work for the Daily Planet.”

“I see. And you believe that you can keep this young woman out of trouble for the next three years?”

Kent smiled and his gaze slipped to Lois for a moment. “I sure hope so.”

Deaton could see a tiny smile trying to work its way onto the judge’s mouth. “Young man, do you understand what you’re letting yourself in for? I have a hunch this woman would be very difficult to break to harness.”

Kent smiled wider. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I plan to marry her instead of throwing a saddle and bridle on her, isn’t it, sir?”

Deaton almost smothered his laugh, and he was more successful than the judge was. Parker let the chuckling go on for several seconds, then he banged his gavel once. “Okay, folks, quiet down. That one’s on me for laughing. Just don’t push your luck.”

Parker held the gavel horizontally, the handle in one hand and the hammer end in the other. “Ms. Drake, I am going to sign off on this deal.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Mayson said.

“Just a minute. Ms. Lane, do you understand that you will be on probation for – let’s see – two years, eight months, and about twenty days? That you can’t leave the state without permission from this court, that you can’t afford so much as a parking ticket in that time, that you can’t cross the line into anything which is the least little bit illegal without being immediately incarcerated?”

“I do, Your Honor.”

“I certainly hope so, both for your sake and the sake of that brave young man behind you.” Parker lifted the gavel and whacked the wooden block on his bench. “So ordered. Ms. Drake, you will see that Ms. Lane is – hey!” He smacked the gavel down twice more as the crowd noise grew. “I’m not finished, people! Quiet down!”

As the noise level retreated to an anticipatory buzz, Parker continued. “Ms. Drake, you will make sure that Ms. Lane is introduced to her parole officer, that she is made aware of her reporting schedule, and that she signs all the necessary paperwork.”

“I’ll make sure of it, Your Honor.”

“I mean you will personally accomplish all these tasks, Ms. Drake.”

Mayson’s expression of horror almost made Deaton laugh again. “B-b-but – Your Honor, that’s not my—”

“Don’t tell me that’s not your job, Ms. Drake! For this defendant, it is your job. You submitted this plea deal, got it approved and talked me into it, so you get to walk it all the way through to the end, and you’ll have to make sure every ‘I’ is dotted, every ‘T’ is crossed, and every tiny detail is seen to with the utmost alacrity and precision. Do you understand?”

Mayson’s teeth ground together again, but she answered, “Yes, Your Honor, I understand.”

“Good,” intoned Parker. “And don’t make a habit of putting deals like this in front of me. You’ll ruin my reputation as a fierce defender of Lady Justice.”

“Of course, Your Honor.”

Parker slammed down his gavel once more. “Court is adjourned.”

Deaton immediately stepped forward and called out, “All rise!” When the judge was out the door, Deaton walked to the defendant’s table and gestured with his hand. “You’ll need to accompany ADA Drake, ma’am, to get the process started.”

“Oh.” The woman looked startled. “Do I – will they take me to another cell somewhere?”

“No, ma’am, just to the DA’s office for some paperwork. As long as you keep your nose clean, you won’t see the inside of a cell again unless you bring it on yourself.”

“Thank you. I promise not to do that.”

Deaton lifted one eyebrow. “Don’t give me that promise, Ms. Lane. Give it to the tall bright-eyed and handsome man standing behind you.”

Her eyes brightened and she smiled slightly. “You mean Clark?”

“No, I was talking about Denzel Washington. Of course I mean Clark! Me, personally, I hope I never see you sitting or standing at this table again.”

The defendant smiled at him – another first, he mused. “Thank you, sir,” she said. “I promise you that I’ll promise him.”

Lane’s attorney leaned in and touched her arm. “You’ll be fine now, Lois. Call me in the morning so we can meet and go over everything once more. And bring Clark with you if you can. This will concern him too.”

Lane nodded. “Is ten o’clock too early, Rhonda?”

Albright shook her head and grinned. “Not for me. Just don’t keep your handsome young man out too late.”

*****

Mayson all but snarled at Lois as they strode down the hallway. “You do know what a pain in the butt you are, don’t you?”

Lois didn’t look at Mayson. “I’m sorry. I didn’t do all this just to irritate you.”

Mayson grabbed Lois’ elbow and yanked her to a halt. “You might just as well have done – never mind.”

Lois was surprised at the quick move but didn’t react. “May I have my arm back, please?”

Mayson huffed at the wall and released Lois’ arm. “You know, you’re almost as bad as Superman.”

Lois’ eyebrows rose. “Almost as bad as Superman? What does that mean?”

Mayson spun and pointed her index finger at Lois’ face, then lowered it and stepped closer. “No. You are worse than Superman. You’re both vigilantes, you both think you’re doing such very good things for the city, you both think you’re helping the police, but at least when he brings them in they aren’t bleeding all over the place!”

“I’m not going to do anything like this again. Not ever. Not even if I get a real terminal diagnosis in the future.”

Mayson crossed her arms and stepped back. After a long moment, she said softly, “I know. If I thought you might, I wouldn’t have pushed for this deal.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t do it for you.” Mayson’s face changed as if she’d said more than she’d intended, then she touched Lois’ elbow and took a step down the hall. “Come on. That paperwork won’t sign itself.”

“Wait, please.” Lois stopped them in the hall, looked both ways to see if anyone was watching them closely, then moved closer to her companion. “What did you mean, you pushed for this deal? I thought it was the DA’s idea all along.”

ADA Drake’s eyes narrowed. “My reasons are my own. You have no right to question me about them.”

“Rights? No, I don’t. But this feels – it’s personal, isn’t it?” Lois’ felt her eyes widen as she realized something. “You don’t like me, not one bit. And it isn’t just me, is it?”

“Look, Lane, if you want to serve your time behind bars, I can go back to the judge and make sure you—”

“It’s Clark.” The words popped out without deliberate intent, but when Mayson’s face shifted and her eyes softened, Lois knew she was right. “You want Clark! Or at least you want a chance with him. Right?”

“You don’t get to—”

“I’m right, aren’t I? You’re in love with Clark. And I’d bet he doesn’t have the first clue how you feel about him.”

Mayson’s face suddenly fell and she turned away with her hand beside her mouth. Lois reached out but at the last moment decided not to touch her. “Mayson, I’m sorry. If it were any other man, I’d tell you to open up to him. But this is the man I love, the man I want to marry as soon as I can. And you know that. I’ve told you, he’s told you, your boss has probably told you, so why would you let me out of jail? Why would you make it easy for me?”

Mayson sniffed hard. “B-because if you – if you went to prison he’d wait for you. He wouldn’t look at another woman. He’d visit you every chance he got and encourage you and promise to wait for you and – and I couldn’t compete with that. No one could. But if you were free, maybe – just maybe – he’d get tired of you and your danger-magnet ways before you could put a ring through his nose. And – and I’d be there for him to talk to, get closer to, be friends with, and maybe even fall in love with.”

Lois waited a moment, then said, “You know that’s not going to happen.”

Mayson dashed at her eyes with a vicious swipe. “Long shot, yeah, but those were the only odds I could get. And don’t get cocky! If I thought for one second that you were a danger to the public you’d be on bread and water and in solitary for the duration of your sentence. Everything the judge said in there was the truth.” She turned to Lois with dry but reddened eyes. “I refuse to allow anyone to be a danger to public safety. I don’t believe you’re a danger, except for your habit of jumping in with both feet before you know if you’re headed toward water or acid.”

Lois almost smiled. “I hope I’ve learned my lesson in that regard.”

“You’d better have. Or I just might join you in the prison exercise yard. I doubt the judge would be so accommodating to either of us next time.”

“How about we get that paperwork done instead? That way neither of us has to be introduced to the joy of busting rocks.”

Mayson gave her a look that was half-way between irritated and amused. “You know we don’t do that anymore.”

Lois shrugged as she fell into step beside the attorney. “Just as well. I sunburn easily.”

This time Mayson actually smiled without meeting Lois’ gaze. But Lois didn’t care. She was marrying Clark Kent, the man who on occasion disguised himself as Superman to save lives and help people, the best man on two planets, and not even a confession from a potential competitor for his affections could dampen her day. In a matter of days, if not hours, she and Clark would be exchanging vows, rings, and promises for their joined futures.

On top of that, Lex’ empire had all but disintegrated. Even if Lois had chosen not to testify against him, the number of witnesses and victims who had come forward after his arrest had astounded even Clark. It seemed that nearly every person of influence in Metropolis had accused Luthor of wrongdoing, and his chances of ever being free were so close to nothing that they weren’t worth computing.

And that didn’t take into account what he’d tried to do to her personally. She would have testified against the lying snake even if he hadn’t tried to seduce her into marrying him. And the overpowering urge to gargle her tongue out at the slightest hint of any memory of his kisses was finally starting to wane.

The two women stopped in front of a door labeled Asst. DA’s Office. Mayson touched the doorknob, then looked at Lois. “One more thing, Lois. Clark doesn’t get to hear any of what I told you. Agreed?”

Lois tilted her head and asked, “Hear what? I don’t remember you telling me anything.”

Mayson’s expression softened. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

Lois waltzed through the door as Mayson opened it. “And I plan on collecting as soon as I get back to my desk at work. There are a couple of stories I’ll need information about, and I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Be careful about promising something you can’t deliver. You’re on probation, remember?”

“I don’t think my parole officer would object to you and me sharing the occasional lunch.”

“Gaahhh!” grunted Mayson. “Please let’s not end up friends.”

A crooked smile surfaced on Lois’ mouth. “That works for me, too. Now where are those papers? I still have to call my mother and tell her I’m getting married without her input on the wedding plans.”

Mayson’s grin turned evil as she indicated a stack of papers written in legalese. “Really? In that case, maybe you need more sympathy than I can give you. I know how my mother would have reacted.”

Lois picked up a loose pen and leaned down to sign the top page where Mayson was pointing. “If I need police protection, I’ll give you a call.”

“Have Clark call me.”

Lois stopped writing but didn’t look up. “My memory would have to improve first.”

“Ugh. I’d rather owe you one.”

“Done. Next page?”

“Slow down, Lois, you’ve got quite a few pages to go.”

“No problem. I’ll just pretend I’m signing the marriage license.”

Mayson didn’t answer, but Lois knew it wasn’t over between them. It was going to be an interesting competition between them as they both worked for truth and justice. They’d never be close friends, but Lois was sure she could work with Mayson to put the bad guys behind bars where they belonged.

As long as Clark wasn’t around Mayson too much.

And as long as Lois was around Clark a lot.

# # #

The following story –

“While I Slept”

by – VirginiaR

was Nominated in the:

Best Revelation Story

category

for the

2014 Annual Kerth Awards

While I Slept

By VirginiaR. <lc.virginiaR@gmail.com>

Rated: G

Submitted: May 2013

Summary: Clark learns the truth about what happened when Lois spent the night. Extended scene from the episode "The Prankster." Clark's POV.

***

Clark spun back into his shorts and t-shirt as he landed on his patio. He had already scanned into his apartment and saw that Lois was still asleep. He carefully opened the door to his apartment and floated just above the floor inside, so not to wake her. Quietly, he shut the door. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was getting late.

He had overslept; with Lois asleep in his arms, he didn't really want to move off the sofa and return to his bed alone. Then there had been that call for help about an hour ago. He had covered Lois with a blanket before zipping out.

With one last gaze at Lois, Clark super sped into the kitchen to start the coffee maker and then raced into the shower. Two minutes later, he stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He was showered, his teeth were brushed, his face heat-vision smooth, his hair styled like Clark instead of Superman, and a pair of glasses sitting firmly in place. Another quick scan showed him that Lois was still asleep. He was about to spin into his suit, his tan suit with the beige and grey striped shirt, and the muted patchwork patterned tie, when he heard the first note of the ring of his phone. A fraction of a second later, his suit was on, and he was pulling the phone out of its cradle.

"Hello?" Clark whispered.

"Hey, Clark. Wow, the phone didn't even ring," Jimmy said. "I've got that information you wanted from Griffin's parole officer."

"What did he say?" Clark asked.

"The only address Griffin had given him was his father's toy store," Jimmy replied, giving Clark the address.

"Okay. Great!" Clark said. He saw Lois stretch from where she lay on the sofa. He lowered his voice again. "Tell the Chief we're on it. Thanks." He set down the phone.

"Who was that?" Lois asked, while yawning.

Clark realized that he hadn't buttoned his top button of his shirt while getting dressed and fastened it now as he walked into his kitchen to get Lois a cup of coffee. "That was Jimmy. Griffin's parole officer called this morning. The only address he has on him is Griffin's father's toy store.

"Toy store?" Lois echoed, as she sat up and started to put on her shoes. "I thought Griffin's father was a nuclear physicist. Didn't Griffin follow in his footsteps?"

"Apparently, he's retired and gone into the toy business," Clark explained, watching as Lois picked up a piece of cold pizza and stuck it into her mouth. "It's not far from here," he went on as he handed Lois a cup of coffee. "How'd you sleep?"

"I had really weird dreams," she said, taking a sip of her coffee.

Clark chuckled. "Maybe it's the pizza."

"I doubt it," she said, taking another bite of cold pizza. "I dreamed I was a cocktail waitress, and Griffin was a bartender, and all of the sudden, he was trying to shove me into the blender, and I'm screaming 'we don't serve blended drinks here'."

Clark picked up the box of pizza from the coffee table, and then removed the pizza slice from Lois's hand. "Let's hope it was the pizza."

"Hey! That's my breakfast," she complained.

"I'll buy you a donut on the way to the toy store," he said, setting the pizza box on the counter of his kitchen.

"What's the rush?" Lois said, taking another sip of her coffee. "Griffin's not there."

"What do you mean, 'Griffin's not there'?" Clark asked.

"Well," she said, standing up and moving to the other box of pizza still sitting on the dining room table, flipping it open, and taking another slice of cold pizza. "Griffin knows we're on to him. I told him that last night when I correctly guessed it was him on the phone."

Clark nodded. "So, of course, he wouldn't be at the one address his parole officer has."

"Exactly," Lois said, biting into the pizza. "Anyway, the blender wasn't the weird part of my dream."

"It wasn't?" he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. "What was?"

She bit into the pizza and stared at him while she chewed. "You telling me that you were in love with me after you saved me from the blender, and flattening both it and Griffin with one punch."

Clark's jaw dropped. Where had that image come from? He cleared his throat and tried to think what to say to that. "That's some imagination you've got there."

"Then I dreamed I woke up, and you told me that you loved me and wanted to marry me," she went on as if he hadn't said anything.

"Oh, really?" he said, wishing his voice hadn't cracked.

Lois waved her pizza in the air. "Don't worry, I told you that I wouldn't marry you until after we dated," she said.

His heart was pounding so loudly in his chest now that he could only hear it and Lois's voice.

"You agreed that we should date for a while before we got married," she said, taking another bite of her pizza.

"Oh?" he said, glancing away. He was afraid if she looked into his eyes, she would read the truth there.

She set her pizza on the pizza box and walked up to him. "And here's where the dream really gets weird."

*It wasn't weird yet?*

"That's when I discovered that you weren't awake. You were actually talking in your sleep," Lois said.

"I was... *what?* I don't..." Clark said, shaking his head. *No, that would be really bad.* Worse than those times he had floated in his sleep. Okay, maybe not worse...

She set her hands on his chest. "And I told you that I loved you too."

"You loved me?" he repeated.

"I *love* you. Present tense, but since I am telling you what happened in my dream, it sounds like the past tense," Lois clarified, running his tie through her fingers.

"Right. Like a brother," he said, nodding and pointing a finger at her. "I've heard that one."

Lois was standing much too close. Her legs and hips now rested against his. He was unable to move, unable to get away, unable to think, and unable to breathe.

"I told you 'yes'."

"Yes?" Clark echoed. *Yes to what?*

"Yes, I would marry you after we dated a while," she said.

"Oh, you will? That's nice," he said, his voice cracking again. He cleared it. "Was that the weird part? Us getting engaged?"

Lois shook her head. "No."

"No?"

"The weird part was you announcing that you're Superman," she said, staring straight into his eyes.

He gulped. "*I'm* Superman? I said that? That's some dream," he said, scooting out from between her and the counter. "We should really get going and interview Griffin's dad."

Lois picked up her half-eaten piece of pizza, and took another bite. "*And* discovering that I wasn't really asleep, and you really were talking in your sleep."

Clark froze, wincing.

"So, Clark," she said, circling back around so that she was in front of him. "If I told you that I really *do* love you, and not like a brother, would you tell me the truth?" she asked, taking another bite of pizza and looking at him directly in the eye.

"Pinch me first," he murmured.

"Why? To see if it hurts?" Lois asked, cocking her head to the side.

"No, to see if *I'm *dreaming."

THE END

Please check out the prequel "While You Sleep..." -- which is Lois's POV from the night before.

Gratitude: Many thanks to Mrs. Luthor and IolantheAlias for their infinite patience while I freaked out about this (these) story (stories). The best Betas ever!

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Jerry Siegel & Joe Shuster created the characters in this story as they were portrayed on the *Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman* television series, developed by Deborah Joy LeVine. I borrow the characters from time to time from Warner Bros, DC Comics, and the heirs to Siegel and Shuster, when they invade my psyche and demand I write what they tell me. Much of the dialogue from this story came from "The Prankster" episode written by Grant Rosenberg, which I then blended up and let spray over my story.

This Story was inspired by the old Romantic's song "Talking in Your Sleep" written by The Romantics. (1983).