More than Partners, Part 2: A Greener Glow of Home

by Ann McBride <amcbride@telocity.com>

Rated: PG

Submitted: November, 2002

*********************************

This rewrite of GGGOH is a sequel to "A Really Strange   Visitor." So there may be a few twists. <g> If you haven't   read ARSV, you might want to read it first. Otherwise,   there are things in here that will make you go, "What?!"   Many thanks to Marilyn, Anita, Kristin, and Wanda who   tirelessly beta-read this.

Since it's an episode rewrite, there is some dialogue from   the show. No copyright infringement intended.

Part 1

"Whoa! Watch it there, Jimmy!" Cat Grant called to the   young researcher as he bounded down the ramp into the   newsroom. "Start coming to work on time and people will   expect it," she teased, a broad smile lighting up her face.

"Is this cool or what?" Jimmy practically shoved his wrist   into her face.

"Hmm, I prefer leather," was the sultry reply.

"I wasn't talking about fashion."

"Neither was I," she purred.

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "The watch, Cat. It's a S.T.A.R.   Labs prototype. The Air Force needs help finding their lost   pilots, but I think we could use it to signal Superman."

"May I see that?" The auburn-haired gossip columnist held   out her hand.

Jimmy handed the watch to her and watched as she turned it   over, pushing buttons.

The young man looked across the newsroom to Clark's desk.   It looked like Clark and Lois were pitching a story to   Perry.

***************

"So here's this decent guy, a farmer, and he gets thrown   off his property by the feds who then start tearing up his   land with bulldozers," Clark explained.

Perry nodded his head in agreement. "Sounds like a story to   me."

"Let Clark go, then," Lois said. "I'll stay here and look   for some real news." She thought about going to Clark's   hometown on a story. Not a good idea right now.

Perry tried to placate her. "Now, let's keep an open mind   here, Lois. 'The Poisoning of America.' I'm seeing a Planet   special investigation."

"I'm seeing guys in overalls discussing hog futures," she   retorted snidely.

As Lois and Perry argued the merits of the story he had   been proposing, Clark was suddenly assaulted by a high-  pitched squeal. His ears protesting, Clark looked around   the newsroom in search of the source.

The editor kept talking about the proposed article. "The   way I see it, it's private property rights versus the   public good."

His partner continued to protest. "We've got that right   here in Metropolis, Perry. There's no reason to go to   Kansas."

"Urban and rural. Same story. Same problem. Sometimes it's   easier to see the situation in a microcosm, Lois." Noticing   the pained expression on Clark's face, Perry asked, "You   all right, Son?"

"Sure. Excuse me a minute."

Clark had finally located the source of the shrill noise   piercing his eardrums. He loped over to Cat and Jimmy. "Can   I see that?" he asked.

Cat handed him the signal watch as Jimmy eagerly explained,   "It's a prototype. It emits a high frequency signal. I   thought we could use it to signal Superman."

"Yeah." Clark found the right button and shut it off. "Why   don't you save that for a real emergency?" He threw the   comment over his shoulder as he returned to his desk in   time to hear Perry speak to Lois.

"I'm done arguing. One of you call Travel to make your   reservations. I want you on a plane this afternoon."

Lois rolled her eyes again. "Perry, it's *Smallville.*"

"You know, that's probably how the first reporter at the   Love Canal felt. Didn't that reporter pull in a Pulitzer   Prize?" With that caustic remark, the editor turned on his   heel and went back to his office.

"Come into the conference room a minute," Clark suggested   to his quietly seething partner. "We need to talk about   this in private."

"Fine," she grudgingly responded. She entered the room as   he held the door for her. "Thanks, Clark."

"You're welcome," he replied with a grin. "Lois, what is it   that's really bothering you about this assignment? Somehow,   I don't think it's the story."

"Clark, I'm a city girl, in case you haven't noticed. Why   would I want to go to the country? There are bugs and   snakes and things." She stared at the wall beyond his   shoulder, unwilling to meet his gaze.

"So your only objection to going to Kansas is that you   might run into a stray spider or two? Somehow, I don't   believe you." He paused a second, almost afraid to voice   his opinion. "Lois, you said to Perry, 'It's *Smallville.*'   I think you don't want to go to my hometown. And I guess   I'm not sure why," he said gently.

She shook her head. "Clark, I'm sorry. It's not that I   don't want to go to your hometown. I just don't know that   I'm ready to meet your parents. And even if we're there on   business, I see no way that we can avoid that. It would be   different if we weren't dating. But we've only been dating   for a month or so, and so it seems like it's too soon to   get introduced as your girlfriend."

"Lois, first of all, they'll love you, no matter what   context you're introduced in. Second, the only way they'll   know you're my girlfriend is if you decide you want to tell   them."

She shot a puzzled glance at him. "What's that supposed to   mean?"

"It means that I haven't told them that you're my   girlfriend. They know of you as my partner at work and my   friend."

"Why haven't you told them I'm your girlfriend?" she asked,   bothered by his comment. "Are you ashamed of it?" she   asked, a worried look in her eyes.

He shook his head in denial and shrugged. "I guess I'm like   you. We haven't been dating all that long. I think I wanted   to make sure you didn't dump me after a few dates."

"Oh. So they won't expect anything?"

"No, Lois. They'll just expect to meet my colleague from   work. I swear."

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. "And I won't be   subjected to the third degree from every other person in   town?"

His laugh rang out. "No, Lois. Just what do you think   people are like in small towns? And no, don't answer that.   It was a rhetorical question."

She sniffed loudly. "All right. I'll go, and I'll try to   stop complaining."

He relaxed visibly. "Good. Then let me tell you what I   didn't tell Perry."

"You held out on Perry?" she asked, surprised.

"Yeah. I was afraid he wouldn't let us go if I told him   what I really think is going on in Smallville." He shoved   his hands in his pockets and began to pace around the room.

"Clark Kent, spill it."

"Lois, you know how my parents' neighbor has EPA people   digging up his farm because of a pesticide clean-up?"

"Yes..." she began to reply.

"I don't know about what he did before I was born, but as   long as I've known him, Wayne Irig has been an organic   farmer. He doesn't use pesticides. Never has, as far as I   know."

"So why is the EPA out there looking for them?" she asked.

"Good question. The simple answer is that I'm not sure it's   the EPA."

"What?!" She was incredulous. "If it's not the EPA, then   who is it?"

"My dad called me because he was worried. He said that   Wayne had a tree that got uprooted last week in a storm. In   the hole, Wayne found some weird rock crystals. He sent one   of 'em to a lab in Wichita to find out what it was. That's   when the government showed up on his doorstep with an order   to conduct an EPA cleanup of pesticides. The Irig farm is   just a couple of miles from Shuster's field."

Lois's eyes began to sparkle. "And you think that just   maybe this weird rock has something to do with your ship?   And the government order..."

"Could be fake. Just like the warrant to search the Planet   was. You know, I never did find Trask again."

"And you think that we're going to find him in Smallville   this weekend?"

"I think it's a possibility. Judging from what we read in   that file, Trask thinks there's a connection between   Smallville and Superman," Clark reminded her. "So he may   have decided that having struck out here, he'll try to find   something in Kansas."

"And your dad's friend gave him the opening he needed when   he sent that crystal to the lab?"

"Right. So," he said, "are you okay with this trip now?"

She gave him a grudging smile. "I suppose. Should I check   to see if I can find my cowboy boots?"

"If you have some, yeah." His eyes twinkled behind his   horn-rimmed frames. "I'm glad you're okay with this. I   guess one of us better call travel."

"Yeah. Think the budget will cover first class?" she   suggested.

"In your dreams, Lois. Anyway, it's all the same to me. I   just flat out hate flying."

She screwed up her face. "Wait a second. Did I just hear   you say you *hate* flying?"

"Yeah. With a passion," he admitted.

"But Clark, you're <Superman>" she mouthed. "You fly on a   fairly regular basis."

"Not in an airplane," he responded. "I hate it. I feel like   I'm in a flying coffin. It's horrible." He grimaced. "And   there's no way out of it this time."

Lois grinned at him. "Tell you what. I'll hold your hand on   take-off," she offered.

"That would be nice. Maybe then I won't be scared." He   smiled at the thought.

Shaking her head, she repeated, "You're a strange one,   Clark Kent." She swatted him playfully. "And now I better   call the travel department and get them to make our   reservations."

"That'd be fine. Do you want a motel room, or do you want   to stay at my folks'?" he inquired.

"Your folks' house? Won't it be an imposition?"

"No, I'm gonna stay there no matter what. It'd be easier if   we're together. You can have my room, and I'll sleep on the   couch."

She acquiesced. "All right. But don't you dare embarrass   me."

He smiled fondly at her. "No problem, Lois. I'll be on my   best behavior."

**********************

Lois leaned across Clark to look out the window at the   patchwork quilt of farmland thirty thousand feet below.

"America's breadbasket, Lois."

"Don' t tell me. 4-H changed your life." Her grin told him   she was teasing.

He chuckled at her comment. "What can I say, Lois? I'm a   farm kid."

"If I ever need a cow milked, I'll remember that." She sank   back into her seat and took his large hand in hers. "You   okay?"

"Sure. You've done a great job distracting me from the fact   that I'm stuck in here."

"Well, if I could have figured out a way to only make one   plane reservation, I would have," she whispered. "But I   couldn't."

He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, marveling   at the silky texture of her skin. "I know. And it really is   all right. I'm enjoying the time with you." He raised their   hands to his lips and gently kissed her hand. "We don't   normally get this much time with absolutely nothing to do   but sit and talk."

"Oh, Clark, sometimes you say the sweetest things." She   felt like she might just melt.

"I try, Lois, I try."

**********************

The diesel engine labored to pull the heavy freight train   down the track. Clark relaxed behind the wheel of the   rental car, enjoying the upgrade to a convertible that the   agent had apologetically given them in Wichita. His   partner, on the other hand was practically twitching in the   passenger seat. Sitting behind a railroad crossing gate,   which Clark had refused to try to get past, was grating on   her nerves.

After Lois's third or fourth comment about the country,   Clark replied, "Joke all you want, Lois, but take away   Middle America and what have you got?"

"Art, music, theater..."

"Crime, drugs, poverty."

Lois settled back against the car seat. "How long is this   going to take?" she asked, inclining her head toward the   train that was slowly inching along the track.

Suppressing a laugh, Clark answered, "It takes as long as   it takes."

"I didn't realize Zen was so popular in the country," she   muttered.

Clark smiled indulgently at her. "It always takes people   from the city a while to decompress. Fortunately for you,   the annual Corn Festival is this weekend."

Lois looked unconvinced. "This is a good thing?"

"Sure. We'll get to see the Corn Queen pageant, the Husk-  Off. The Corn-O- Rama. Popcorn, creamed corn, corn-on-the-  cob. We're in luck." The expression on his face was   blissful--tinged with mischief.

"Be still my heart," she finally said with a smile. She   eyed him suspiciously. "You didn't concoct this story just   to have an excuse to come home for the Corn Festival, did   you?"

"Lo...is! How can you even suggest that? I'm hurt, Lois,   really hurt, that you would think I would lie to Perry like   that." He bit his tongue to keep from laughing.

His partner rolled her beautiful eyes. "Clark, you're   hopeless," she laughed.

He joined in her laughter just as the last railroad car   passed the gate. It slowly rose as the red lights stopped   blinking. Clark put the car back in drive and pressed the   accelerator. "If we don't get on out to the Irig place, you   may be spared the festival."

"No, not that," she emoted dramatically, one hand placed   over her heart.

****************

Clark eased the convertible to a stop in Wayne Irig's   driveway. An attractive middle- aged woman was standing,   clipboard in hand, at the barricade blocking access to the   property. The two reporters got out of the car and   approached her.

The woman's identification badge identified her as Carol   Sherman, EPA field agent. "Sorry. This site is closed to   the public," she informed them briskly.

"We're not the public. We're the press," Lois snapped.

"We've already issued a statement to the local paper," Ms.   Sherman rejoined.

Clark decided it was time to step in. "I'm Clark Kent. This   is Lois Lane. We're from the Daily Planet." He smiled   warmly at her.

Responding to his friendliness, the agent replied, "I'm   Carol Sherman, EPA Field Liaison. What's a newspaper like   yours doing here?"

"That's why we're called the Daily *Planet.* We cover the   world," Clark added.

Thawing even more, Ms. Sherman explained, "What you're   seeing here is an ecological risk assessment. During the   sixties, the owner used a lot of pesticides; and we're   concerned about seepage into the local ground water."

"Polluting wells or something?" Lois asked.

"That's right. No big story here, I'm afraid." Ms. Sherman   sounded apologetic.

"We'll need to talk to the property owner," Lois demanded.

"Mr. Irig's been given relocation money during the testing.   He didn't say where he went."

"Well, I'm sure you've got that information somewhere.   We'll check back later." Lois gave her an insincere smile   and turned to her partner who was fiddling with his   glasses. "You ready?" she asked him in an undertone.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Let's go to town and see if he's   there."

"Sounds like a plan." Lois followed him to the car.

As they drove away, Lois turned to Clark. "All right, spill   it. What did you see in that big tent?"

He chuckled. "Well, if Wayne is on the farm, I didn't see   him. Didn't see Trask either. But..." he trailed off as a   rabbit darted across the country road.

"Cla...ark." Lois sounded impatient.

"But inside that big tent--there were a bunch of guys in   military garb that looked a heck of a lot like the guys on   that plane." He looked grave.

"So you were right. This is *not* a routine EPA ecological   assessment." Lois could have hugged him if he hadn't been   driving.

"Doesn't look like it. I would like to know where Trask   is," he continued.

"Me too," she said with a wry smile. "He's a loose cannon   if there ever was one." She wriggled into a more   comfortable position. "So, tell me more about Wayne Irig.   Other than that he's an organic farmer who supposedly used   pesticides all over the place."

"Well, he's a friend of my Dad's. Raises wheat and corn.   Before she died, his wife made the best caramel apples for   Halloween." He smiled wistfully at the memory.

"Caramel apples? I love caramel apples."

His eyes twinkled as he said, "Maybe we'll find one for you   at the festival."

"Oh, yeah. The Corn thing. I can hardly wait." Lois   reflected that what she had said was true. It would be   interesting to see Clark on his home turf. Perhaps she'd   figure out just what it was that made him tick.

Part 2

Colonel Jason Trask leaned on a table, glaring at the   sweating face of Wayne Irig. "Let's try this again. What   did you do with the rest of it?"

The stolid-looking farmer just stared back at his   interrogator.

"We have two possibilities. Either you buried it somewhere   on your farm or you gave it someone. Now, which is it?"   Trask's voice rose in frustration.

"I told you. There wasn't any more. Just the piece I sent   to Wichita."

Trask backhanded Irig across the face. "Wrong answer!" he   spat at his prisoner.

At that moment, Carol Sherman entered the tent and stopped   in her tracks, horrified at what she saw. "I thought you   said that Mr. Irig had been relocated," she managed to say   to Trask.

"He has been. This is his new location," the agent sneered.

Appalled, Ms. Sherman asked, "Since when does the   Environmental Protection Agency do interrogations?"

"It doesn't," came the terse reply. "But Bureau 39 does."

"Bureau 39? What's that?" the EPA worker persisted.

"That's on a need-to-know basis. *You* don't." Trask glared   at her through narrowed eyes.

"I needed a job, but not this bad." Ms. Sherman attempted   to extricate herself from the situation.

Trask moved toward her, ignoring his prisoner for the   moment. "Let me explain something to you. No one *alive*   has ever quit Bureau 39." He gave her an evil smile. "Now,   if you're still determined to quit, I'll accept your   resignation...with regret." He looked around the tent at   his operatives.

Ms. Sherman cast a frightened look at the agents, tensed,   then said, "No. I'm fine."

"Good. Then I assume there is a reason you interrupted me?"   Trask's voice was cutting.

"I just talked to two reporters from the Daily Planet. A   Lois Lane and a Clark Kent," she informed him.

A genuine smile briefly lit up his face. "Perfect. If Lane   and Kent are here, then Superman can't be far behind." He   paused an instant, considering his options. "If they   return, be sure to let me know immediately."

"Yes, sir." Sherman turned and left the tent, her spirits   oppressed. Just what had she gotten herself into?

Returning his attention to Wayne Irig, Trask changed tacks.   "All right. I'll believe you that you only found the one   crystal. But I don't for one minute believe you know   nothing."

The farmer continued to stare at the government agent with   bovine eyes.

"So, Mr. Irig, what do you know of any strange happenings   here in Smallville, back in 1966?"

Wayne Irig looked puzzled. "Strange happenings? Don't know   what you mean."

Trask leaned over the table, his face mere inches from the   other man's. "Strange things. Like shooting stars. Or   meteor showers. Or UFOs."

"Well, there weren't much goin' on that spring. Mebbe that   was the year we had lots of rain. Barely got to plant. Or   was that '67?" He shook his head. "Can't really think of   anything strange." His eyes brightened. "'Cept Bill   Shuster's cat. That was pretty odd, come to think of it."

"What about his cat?" Trask's paranoia was piqued. Given   the size of the spaceship they had discovered, whatever   creature was in it had to have been small.

"His cat had a three-legged kitten."

"A three-legged kitten?" Trask didn't know how to react.

"Yep. A three-legged, one-eyed kitten. Weirdest critter I   ever saw." Irig mopped his brow with a wadded-up bandanna.

Trask got in his face once more. "And what, exactly,   happened to this kitten?" he demanded.

Irig hunched his shoulders. "I dunno. Bill probably drowned   it. That's what people usually do with useless kittens."

The colonel's eyes gleamed with excitement. Maybe, just   maybe, this kitten wasn't really a cat. Maybe it was the   alien that had landed in Shuster's field. Of course, that   left the question of what had really happened to the   creature wide open. And where had Superman come from?

***************

"You see, Lois? I told you you'd like the Corn Festival,"   Clark eagerly commented to his partner as he looked with   pride around the Smallville town square. A band was playing   country rock under the gazebo in the middle, young ladies   were vying for the attention of the young men preening in   front of them, small children were taking part in the   carnival games, and in one corner, a portly farmer was   cheerfully grilling hot dogs, bratwursts, and pork chops.

"Uh huh," she said doubtfully. "Clark, why do I get the   feeling that any minute Dorothy is going to come skipping   through, Toto at her heels?"

His eyes sparkled with mischief. "No clue, Lois. Maybe   because Dorothy *wanted* to be in Kansas?"

Lois elbowed him. "Maybe this town isn't so backward. They   seem to have a female sheriff." She turned him toward a   buck-toothed strawberry blonde dressed in the tan and brown   uniform of a county sheriff.

"Rachel!" he called as he moved toward her, Lois on his   heels.

Hearing her name, the woman turned, a broad smile lighting   up her face. "Clark Kent! I didn't know you were coming   back this year!" She hugged him happily. "It's so good to   see you! How is life in the big city? And are you planning   to come to the dance tomorrow night?"

Clark gave her a last squeeze before releasing her. "Rachel   -- or should I call you 'Sheriff Harris' now? You look   great. Life in Metropolis is terrific, and yes, we're   planning on coming to the dance tomorrow." He drew Lois   forward. "Lois, I'd like you to meet Rachel Harris, one of   my oldest friends. Rachel, this is Lois Lane, my partner at   the Planet."

Lois held out her hand, eyeing the other woman warily. "How   do you do?" she said coolly.

Rachel shook Lois's hand heartily. "Nice to meet you,   Lois." Turning to Clark, she added, "Can you still two-step   and tush-push?"

"You bet, Rachel."

"Good, you can show me tomorrow night for old time's sake."

"Old time's sake?" Lois asked suspiciously.

"Yeah, Clark took me to his senior prom." Rachel grinned.   "So when did you two...?" She waved her hands in a vague   gesture, indicating the two reporters might be more than   just work partners.

"Oh, we're partners at work. We're here on a story." Lois   tried to sound indifferent.

"Ah." Rachel wasn't fooled. There was definitely something   more than just professional interest on Lois's part when it   came to Clark. She might have to do a little detective work   and make sure this city woman was good enough for her old   playmate. "I guess you mean that EPA clean-up at Wayne   Irig's."

Clark responded. "Yeah. We went by there, but the EPA   spokeswoman said he'd been relocated. I was wondering if   you knew where he is."

The sheriff shook her head. "Nope. You know Wayne. Ever   since Mrs. Irig died, he's kept pretty much to himself.   I'll ask around though." Her walkie-talkie crackled into   life. "Duty calls. You two have fun." She smiled at the   pair. "See you tomorrow night at the dance."

"Thanks, Rach," Clark replied. He watched her stride off   toward her cruiser parked at the edge of the square. He   wondered if she'd find out any more than he and Lois had   about Wayne Irig's whereabouts.

A muffled snort from his partner regained his attention.   Lois's eyes were lit with unholy glee as she said, "Tush-  push? Was she trying to tell me that you line dance?"

Unsure where she would go with an affirmative answer, Clark   tried to divert her attention. "How about if we sample some   of the local hospitality? I could go for something to eat."   He ushered her in the direction of the barbecue pit.

Lois took his arm and nodded in the direction of the solid   figure at the grill. "What do you bet that Mr. Regular Guy   there is really a cross-dresser?" she teased.

Before he could answer, a joyous voice called out, "Clark!"

He turned to embrace the woman. "Mom!"

As he let her go, she turned to Lois. "You must be Lois.   Welcome to Smallville." She smiled broadly.

Lois swallowed, hoping she didn't look as nervous as she   felt. "That's me. It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Kent."

"Martha, please." Clark's mother smiled delightedly at her.   "You sure are pretty." At Lois's blush, Martha turned to   her son. "It's all right if I tell her that, isn't it?"

He bit his lower lip to keep from laughing. "You'll have to   ask Lois, Mom."

"Thanks, Martha." Lois was embarrassed at the attention.   Lord only knew what the reception would be like if Martha   had known that she and Clark were dating.

Martha began to push them toward the barbecue. "Let's get   you two something to eat. You look like you haven't had   lunch."

His eyes twinkling, Clark said, "I don't know, Mom. Lois   thinks the cook might be a cross-dresser."

"Oh, honey. That's Clark's father." Martha was laughing   heartily. "I can't even get him to buy me a dress, much   less one for himself. Now, if it was a tractor..." she   spread her hands expressively.

Lois shot Clark a look promising later retribution. She   didn't know what had gotten into him. His normally teasing   manner was magnified. She muttered under her breath, so low   only he could hear, "Remember what they say about paybacks,   Kent," then turned a dazzling smile on him. Two could play   at this game -- right after she figured out just what game   it was.

*************

Darkness had fallen by the time the Kents and Lois arrived   at the farmhouse. As Martha led the way into the house, her   arms full of corn, she said, "Just an old farmhouse, but   it's home." Indicating an easel with a bright oil painting   on it, she added, "That's my latest."

Caught a bit off guard, Lois commented, "I like it. What is   it?"

Lois was chagrined when Martha replied, "It's a bowl of   fruit." Looking carefully at the expressionistic artwork,   Lois decided that it could be fruit. Just not any she had   ever seen. She wondered idly what would be her next   opportunity to stick her foot in her mouth up to the knee.

Her partner promptly took his unspoken cue. "Mom, Lois and   I are going to need to receive a fax, probably tomorrow."

Seemingly distracted, Martha murmured, "A fax," as she   moved toward a desk in the living room.

"Facsimile. It's a machine. People in one place put a paper   in and people in another place can get a copy if they have   a fax machine too. It's sort of... technical," Lois tried   to explain to Clark's mother.

"Oh, I know what a fax is. I was just thinking I better   check to make sure there's paper in it," Martha replied,   pulling the cover off the fax machine on the desk.

Once again tasting her toes, Lois stammered, "I...I didn't   mean...I don't even have a fax machine," as Clark   practically choked on the laughter trying to explode from   his chest.

Martha tried to soothe her with a kindly, "It's all right,   Lois. Out here these days, everyone has to have one." She   looked assessingly at her son and his partner. "Now, you'll   be in Clark's old room and he can sleep here on the couch,   unless you two are..." she trailed off, not quite sure just   *what* their relationship was.

"No, we're not." Lois shook her head in denial as she sank   down on the couch beside her irrepressible partner.

"Right. Jonathan, I could use your help," Martha told her   husband as he headed for the couch. "You can help me with   the blankets." She gently shepherded him up the stairs,   leaving the younger couple alone.

Grinning devilishly, Clark put an arm around Lois's   shoulders and said, "Not quite what you expected, is it?"

Her mouth tight, she replied, "Let's see, so far I've had a   glimpse of ritual crop worship, run into your high school   girlfriend, and insulted both your parents. No, not what I   expected at all. I couldn't have done better if I'd planned   it."

Pulling her close, he told her, "It's all right, Lois. My   parents love you."

"Ri...ight," she said skeptically.

"They do. *You* didn't hear what my mom told my dad."

"I'm not too sure I *want* to hear."

He dropped a light kiss on the top of her head. "She said,   and I quote, 'I love her.' So there."

Not completely convinced, Lois said, "I'd settle for 'I   don't hate her.' Maybe I should have let you tell them   about us. No, that would make more pressure." She turned   her face to Clark. "I just don't want to make a bad   impression."

Clark smiled tenderly at her. "Lois, they like you. A lot.   And they know that I like you. Everything is fine." He   gently slanted his lips across hers in a kiss that promised   much more for a later time. "More than fine." His hands ran   gently up and down her arms as he deepened the kiss,   stopping only when his hearing picked up the sound of his   parents coming back down the stairs. "Better now?" he   asked.

"Oh yeah." She sighed blissfully. "Did you really have to   stop?"

At that moment the sound of footsteps answered her   question. She was definitely not ready to get caught by   Clark's parents in a lip-lock on their couch.

Martha's cheerful voice said, "Lois, let me show you to   your room. Jonathan, you can help Clark make up the couch."   She followed Lois up the stairs.

"I want to show you something out in the shed, Son,"   Jonathan said as he handed Clark a jacket.

"You do?" Clark followed his father across the yard.

"You know that rock I told you about, Clark?" His father   sounded worried.

"The one Wayne sent to the lab in Wichita to be analyzed?"

"Right. Well, Wayne got concerned when the Feds showed up   at his place, so he brought the rest of what he found over   here for me to keep. He doesn't trust the government   people. The people at the lab say it's some kind of   meteorite, but no chemical composition they've ever seen   before. Since he found it just a couple of miles from where   we found you, I thought it might have some connection."   Jonathan led Clark into the storage shed and opened a heavy   metal box. "Wayne thought the crystals might be valuable.   Kinda looks like emeralds, doesn't it?" Jonathan stared   intently at the glowing green crystals.

As pain knifed through Clark's body, he gasped.

"Son, what is it?" Jonathan asked him, moving away from the   workbench. "Are you all right?"

Rapidly turning pale, Clark clutched his abdomen. "I don't   know, Dad. I feel really strange." As the pain and nausea   intensified, Clark slowly slid down the shed wall and lost   consciousness.

Leaving the deadly crystal on the workbench, Jonathan bent   down to check Clark's pulse, realizing as he did so that he   had no way of knowing if it was normal or not. Panic-   stricken, he did what any sensible man would do. He opened   his mouth and yelled, "Martha!"

******** Lois stopped and stared at the mirror, toothbrush   in hand. She suddenly felt odd, as if something were wrong.   Clark. Something was wrong with Clark. Pausing only to slip   her shoes back on, she clattered down the stairs. "Martha!   Where's Clark?" Her voice was shrill as she realized that   Martha was alone in the kitchen and her boyfriend was   nowhere to be seen.

"Lois, slow down." Martha's voice was calm. "He and his   father went out to check on something in the shed. They'll   be back in a minute. Want some tea or coffee?"

They younger woman shook her head. "Something's wrong with   Clark, Martha."

"Now, Lois, I'm sure Clark is fine," his mother replied   placidly. "What could possibly have happened to him? He's   just in the tool shed with his father."

Lois brushed past her, impatient to find him. "I don't   know, Martha. I can't explain it right now, but I *know*   that something is terribly wrong with Clark." She opened   the door and sped across the farmyard, coming to an abrupt   halt at the door of the shed. The sight that met her eyes   made her take in a sharp breath. Clark lay huddled on the   floor, his father cradling his head and shoulders.

"I was afraid to leave him," he said numbly. "Is Martha   coming?"

Lois shook her head. "I have no idea. What happened?" She   told herself to stay calm. Jonathan was obviously in shock   and more or less useless at the moment.

"I don't know, Lois. I just showed him Wayne Irig's rock,   and all of a sudden he was gasping in pain, and then he   just sort of fell down."

"Wayne Irig's rock? Where is it?" Lois swept the shed with   her eyes, finally seeing the ominous crystal glowing on the   workbench. She slammed the top of the box shut and sighed   with relief as it cut out the sickly green light. Her   pointed look at Jonathan Kent dared him to say something.

Jonathan looked stunned. "I didn't know what to do."

"Jonathan? Clark? Lois?" Martha's voice rang out as she   followed Lois into the shed. "What on earth?"

She pulled up short in front of the sight of her husband   still cradling her son on the shed floor. Lois was standing   by the workbench, an appalled look on her face, busily   fastening all the latches on the gray metal box that Wayne   Irig had left with them.

Part 3

With the deadly radiation no longer able to reach him,   Clark began to stir. "What happened?" he asked, looking   from his father to Lois's worried face.

"I'm not sure," his father replied. "I was showing you   Wayne's rock when you gasped and said you felt strange.   Next thing I knew, you were on the floor, unconscious. How   do you feel now?"

Clark struggled to sit up with his father's help. "I think   I feel a little better now."

Martha hurriedly tried to deflect attention from the   crystal. "You must have eaten too much barbecue at the   festival, Clark," she suggested as she shifted her eyes to   Lois. "Maybe it was too spicy."

Clark was beyond caring if his parents knew that he had   told Lois about himself. "Mom, it's all right. Lois knows,"   he managed to say. "You don't have to try to cover for me."

Deliberately obtuse, Martha responded, "Knows what? That   you can't eat too much spicy food?" She glared at her only   son.

"He means I know he's Superman," Lois broke in. "He must   have forgotten to tell you before." The emergency   apparently past, Lois went into action. "When did you first   feel weird?"

"When Dad opened that box. The closer I got to it, and the   longer I was near it, the worse I felt." He paused to   consider the possibilities. "You think that rock made me   sick? And if it did, why do I feel better now?"

His father said, "Lois closed the box up. That rock must be   like poison to you."

"Right. It must give off some sort of radiation that   affects only you. This case must be made out of lead or   have lead paint on it or something. Doesn't lead block   radiation?" Lois was busily looking around the shed.

"Yes, it does," Martha interjected. "Lois, what are you   looking for?"

"Somewhere to hide this thing. Where no one can find it,   even if they are really good at looking."

"Why?" Martha's tone was puzzled.

Lois's fatigue made her impatient. "Because there is a   psycho in town that wants to kill Clark. And if he finds   this, he'll be able to."

"Lois, we don't know that he's here. I didn't see him in   that tent," Clark added calmly.

"Yeah? What if there was a second tent that you didn't see?   And he was in there? That farm looked plenty big to me.   There could have been another tent." Lois's expression   dared him to disagree.

"All right. Maybe Trask is here. Probably is here," Clark   agreed when he saw her glare.

"So we need to find a place to hide this. Tonight." Lois's   voice was adamant.

"The root cellar." Martha's eyes lit up.

"The what?" Lois asked.

"The root cellar. It's really just a big hole in the   ground. People used to store potatoes and onions and   carrots in them. We haven't used ours in at least thirty   years." Martha moved toward a large storage cabinet in the   corner. "It's under this cabinet. We pushed this over it   when Clark was a baby so he couldn't get into it and get   trapped."

Jonathan moved to help his wife shift the cabinet.

"I don't see anything," Lois said, looking at the shed   floor.

"That's the point," Martha chided. "If you can't see it,   then this Trask guy won't either. There's a trap door to   it. You lift up here." She stuck a finger in a knothole in   the floor and pulled. "Lois, give me the box. It should be   safe here."

The young woman handed over the metal box with its deadly   contents. "Here you go."

As Martha and Jonathan replaced the cabinet over the trap   door and rearranged some farm implements to further obscure   the hiding place, Lois moved over and sat next to Clark.   Touching his cheek with her hand, she murmured, "You look   terrible. Are you sure you feel better?"

"Yeah. I don't feel like something is trying to cut me in   half, and I'm not unconscious. So, yes, I feel better. Not   good, but better," he tried to joke.

She looked at him, worry furrowing her brow. "We need to   get you into the house and into bed."

"You mean that?" A devilish glint lit up his eyes. "How are   you going to explain the change of heart to my parents?"

"Kent, I was speaking figuratively, and you know it," she   hissed, her fear for his health temporarily forgotten. "But   if you'd be more comfortable in your bed, I'd be happy to   take the couch."

He reached for her hand. "I was just kidding, Lois," he   said, unsure whether or not she was truly upset.

"Gotcha, Clark." She smiled warmly at him. "Don't *ever* do   that to me again."

"Do what?"

"Look like you're dead. My nerves can't take it." She stood   and reached her hand down to pull him up. "Come on. Your   folks are finished with the root cellar. Let's go back to   the house."

He struggled to his feet, a wave of nausea and weakness   coming over him as he stood. "Yeah. Let's do that."

The four of them made their way across the farmyard, each   one silently considering their next action.

**************

Martha and Lois helped Clark to a seat at the kitchen table   as Jonathan filled a pitcher with water. He placed it and a   glass on the table in front of his son. "Maybe this will   help."

His mouth full of the thermometer his mother had stuck   there, Clark mumbled, "Thanks, Dad."

A cool hand on his forehead, Martha remarked, "You're   burning up," just as the thermometer exploded. "Oh, my!"   she yelped in surprise.

"Don't get scared, Mom. You know my body doesn't work like   other people's," Clark tried to reassure her. He reached   for the pitcher to pour a glass of water, but his hand   trembled at the effort of lifting it. Setting it down with   a plunk, he muttered, "I've lifted a rocket into orbit   before. Now I can't even lift this." He sounded dejected.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll bounce back." His   mother's tone was reassuring. "How do you feel now?"

Clark thought a second and said, "Better. I think I feel   better."

"Good. Because while I'm sure you need some rest, we need   to all sit down and discuss the situation a little before   we go to bed." Martha's tone was now all business. She   stared pointedly at Lois and Jonathan until they took seats   at the kitchen table. "First of all, back in the shed, Lois   said she knows you're Superman. Either of you want to tell   me about that?"

Lois sighed. She supposed that she better do the explaining   since Clark still looked pale and strained. "It happened   about a month ago. Did Clark tell you about Bureau 39?" At   their nods, she continued. "While we were in 'seclusion' in   the conference room, I got to thinking. There had to be a   reason that this Trask guy had singled us out to   investigate and interrogate. When I tried to piece together   all the bits and pieces I knew about Superman, it seemed   pretty obvious that he must have a secret identity. There   were enough weird coincidences with Clark and Superman that   it suddenly hit me. Clark had to be Superman."

Martha and Jonathan stared at her, not sure whether to be   impressed by her powers of deduction or appalled at how   easily she had identified Clark as the Man of Steel.   "So..." Martha started to say something, but was   interrupted by Lois.

"So I told him that I knew while we were hiding from Trask.   And since Superman never lies, he couldn't deny it." She   smiled at the memory. "But don't worry. I'm sure I'm the   only one who has figured it out. I only did because we   spend so much time together."

"Maybe not," Martha said quietly. "I'm thinking this Trask   person may have figured it out too."

"I really don't think so, Mom. He just has this obsession   with Superman being the 'advance party' of an army of   invading aliens. He thinks Lois and I can get to Superman   because we're the only reporters who have actually talked   to Superman." Clark sipped at his water, the color slowly   returning to his face.

Lois bit her lower lip. "I'm not so sure, Clark. Remember   how he told you he knew you were lying? I think you are in   danger from him as Clark too." She took a deep breath,   knowing he was going to argue with her next suggestion. "I   think you should get on the first plane back to Metropolis.   That way, he can't hurt you, either as Clark or as   Superman."

"Lo...is," he began to protest.

"I'll take care of things here. If you're not around, maybe   he'll let down his guard."

"And maybe he'll put two and two together and send someone   after me in Metropolis. No way, Lois." He stared at her   obstinately. "Besides, if I go running back to Metropolis,   Trask will know that he's on to something. We definitely   don't want that."

His partner wasn't completely convinced. "True. But I   really don't want him getting his hands on you while you're   too weak to even lift a pitcher of water."

"I think Lois is right, Son. You need to get as far from   this Trask person as fast as you can." Jonathan voiced his   opinion.

Reminded of her husband's fear that someone might "dissect   Clark like a frog," Martha hastened to reassure him. "First   of all, we don't really know what this man thinks, right?"   She looked to Lois for support.

Lois nodded. "Other than that he wants to kill Superman."

Martha went on, "It seems to me that Clark is safer here.   At least here, we can help him if he needs us. If Clark   goes back to Metropolis while Lois stays here, he'll be   completely alone. I think he should stay right where he   is." With that pronouncement made, she turned to her son   and said, "Isn't it time for you to get some sleep? And   Lois, if you need anything, just ask. Come on, Jonathan.   Let's go to bed." She rose from the table.

"Is that the fax machine?" Lois thought she heard it and   rose to go check.

"Sounds like it. Why don't you go see if your message is   coming through?" Martha suggested as she took her husband's   arm. "Jonathan and I will see the two of you in the   morning. Goodnight, dears." She pulled her husband down the   hall to their room, leaving Lois and Clark alone in the   kitchen.

Returning to the kitchen from the living room desk, Lois   perused the papers in her hand. "This is it!" she exclaimed   excitedly. "Jimmy comes through again. A working list of   clean-up sites from the Environmental Protection Agency.   Guess what? Smallville's not on it." She handed the papers   to Clark.

He scanned them and whistled. "Man. This Trask is a real   piece of work, isn't he?"

"Yes. A dangerous piece of work. Clark, you cannot let him   near you. There's no telling what he'd do." Lois willed him   to agree with her.

"Yes, ma'am. Whatever you say, boss." His eyes twinkled   behind his glasses.

She gave him a wry look. "Why don't I believe you mean   that?"

"I have no idea. I thought we had already established that   I don't lie to you."

Lois swatted him gently on the arm. "Time for bed, Farmboy,   or you won't be any good to anyone tomorrow. And I think   we're going to have a lot to do."

Clark pushed his chair back from the table and stood.   "You're right. Let's get some sleep." He pulled her into   his arms and rested his head on hers. "What sent you flying   into the shed back there?"

Snuggling up closer, she said, "I don't know, exactly. I   was upstairs; and suddenly, I just knew you were in   trouble."

"The connection again?"

He felt her head nod on his chest. "I guess so." She pulled   back a bit and tilted her head to look at his face. "Clark,   it's so strange. I have *never* felt this way about anyone   before in my life. I'm aware of you on a subconscious level   all the time. I guess that sense of you felt disrupted."

Clark bent his head to press his lips to hers. "I'm sorry   you had to go through that, but I'm glad you came out.   Otherwise, I might still be unconscious on the shed floor.   I'm not sure that Dad would have thought to close the box."

She giggled. "I'm sure your mother would have gone to look   for you. She'd have closed it."

"If you say so. We really need to get some sleep." His   voice was tinged with weariness.

"I know. There is a part of me that really doesn't want to   let go of you though." She pulled his face back to hers for   one last kiss.

"Umm," he growled. "I'm feeling much better." As he began   to move his lips against hers, he heard her sigh in   contentment. Yes, he was feeling a lot better. He caressed   her back as he gently swirled his tongue over her lips.

*****************

"So, Martha. Did you hear me call?" Jonathan was sitting on   the edge of their bed removing his shoes.

She shook her head. "No. Lois came flying down the stairs,   practically screaming about Clark being in trouble and   needing help. I knew you had taken him out to see that rock   Wayne had brought over, so I tried to keep her in the   house. She shook me off and rushed out of here." Martha   smiled at the memory. "That young woman sure is a ball of   fire."

Jonathan looked bemused. "She said Clark was in trouble?   Why would she think that?"

His wife rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Jonathan. Sometimes I   think you must be blind."

"What have I missed?" he asked, still confused.

"Clark and Lois. You haven't noticed that our boy's in   love?"

"Well, I thought that the first time he told us about   Lois," Jonathan replied defensively.

"Yes. But she's in love with him, too. Can't you tell?"   Martha chuckled. "And they're both trying so hard not to   show it. This weekend could turn out to be great fun."

Jonathan still didn't get it. "Well, of course this weekend   will be fun. It's the Corn Festival. There's the dance   tomorrow and everything."

Martha snorted. "I mean Clark and Lois. It's going to be   lots of fun watching them pretend to be just friends. Come   on, honey. Let's get to bed." She pulled back the covers   and crawled in.

"Martha, I'm not too sure about that. I think you're wrong   about Lois." He got into his side of the big bed and turned   out the light.

"Oh yeah? Haven't you noticed the warmth in her eyes when   she looks at him? Or the way she took his hand while we   were hiding that box?" Martha's muffled laugh was drowned   out by her husband's kiss.

"No, and I don't care," he said, as he proceeded to show   her just how uninterested he was in their son's love life.

Part 4

"So," Lois began, as she stirred sweetener into her coffee   the next morning. "What do you want to do first today?" she   asked her partner. She noticed that he looked much   healthier than he had when she had told him to sleep well   the night before.

"I think we should call Perry and ask him to send out a   photographer. Maybe this time we can get some pictures of   whatever Trask is doing," he replied as he calmly spread   jam on his toast.

"You think he will?" she asked, skeptical.

"I don't see why not. He can send Jimmy if he doesn't think   he can spare anyone else. The kid is good enough for what   we need." Clark managed to "accidentally" brush Lois's hand   with his as he put down his mug, much to Martha's secret   delight.

"All right. I'll call Perry after breakfast. Then what? Go   out to the Irig farm or to City Hall to check out if there   are any permits or anything for pesticide use in the past?"   Clark made a gesture of indifference. "Whichever you   prefer. I don't think we'll learn anything at Wayne's right   now, but we might startle Ms. Sherman into giving something   away if we confront her about the EPA list we have. She   doesn't really seem the typical type to be part of Trask's   operation."

Lois nodded in agreement. "Let's go there first. It   shouldn't take long, and maybe we'll make 'em nervous   enough to mess up and let us catch 'em." She smiled at the   thought of having Trask squirming on a hot seat in front of   her. "But don't forget that you aren't invulnerable right   now. I don't want you taking any chances. You hear?"

"Okay. Why don't you go call Perry? And I'll help Mom with   the dishes. We should be ready to go in about ten minutes,"   he suggested.

"Sounds good." Lois left the kitchen and went in search of   her cell phone to make the call to their editor.

***************

"You don't have to help me," Martha informed Clark as he   carried the breakfast dishes to the sink.

"I want to, Mom." He gave her a quick hug. "Thanks for   taking things so well last night."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You mean your telling Lois that   you're Superman?" She giggled. "I've always thought you   should tell Lois. It's your father who worries."

"You have?" He was astounded.

"Of course. If you're going to be in a relationship with   Lois, she deserves to know the whole you, don't you think?"

"Mom," he began.

Martha chuckled. "You two really are adorable, you know."

"Wha..at?" He had a feeling he should have made the phone   call and let Lois do the dishes. His mother's face was   sparkling with mischief. He knew that expression. She'd be   on his case until either he relented and told her   everything, or she figured out the mystery herself. "Lois   is my partner at work. And my good friend."

His mother smiled sagely at his comment. She hung up the   dishrag. "Shouldn't you go find Lois? You said ten   minutes."

The sound of her laughter rang in his ears as he went in   search of his partner. He wasn't sure, but he thought he   heard her say, "Oh, honey. You just keep on thinkin' that."

************

Clark pulled the car to a stop at the barricade in front of   Wayne Irig's farm. He unlatched his seatbelt, then sat   staring over the tops of his glasses at something   presumably only he could see.

When he didn't immediately get out of the car, Lois turned   to him, concern in her voice. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

She reached out a hand to touch his forehead. "You feel   normal." The terrible fever he'd had the night before   seemed to have disappeared.

"I am normal," he replied as he tried to smile.

"And that's the problem?" she asked gently.

"Yeah. I've never been normal before," he explained wryly.   "It's kind of strange."

She smiled sympathetically. "I can imagine." She looked   across the farmyard to see Ms. Sherman coming toward them.   Lois patted Clark's arm. "Well, I'm sure your powers will   come back soon. That was a pretty big chunk of that stuff,   whatever it is, you know."

He tried to grin at her. "I guess."

"So everything's okay?"

"Yeah. Everything is fine."

"Well then, let's go." She opened the door and slid from   the seat. "And, Clark, don't do anything dumb, like trying   to pick up the car one-handed or something, all right?"

He jerked his head around at her comment. How had she known   he was thinking of trying just that? He got out of the car   and closed the door.

Ms. Sherman met them at the barricade. "Now what do you two   need?"

"And good morning to you, too," Lois said. "I just thought   I'd show you this copy of the current EPA cleanup list. You   will notice that Smallville isn't on it." She flourished   the fax triumphantly.

The field agent shrugged, resignation written all over her   face. "Look, we can match paperwork if you want." She   flipped open a folder and began to show various forms to   the two reporters. "This is our certificate granting access   to EPA Superfund status. This is the property rights   waiver. Here's the authorization from Smallville City Hall.   And this is the updated list of the one you've got. See?   There's Smallville right there." She pointed to the line on   the list.

"She's right, Lois," Clark commented dryly. There was   definitely an entry for Smallville, and it didn't look as   if it had been added on after the fact.

"May I see those?" Lois held out her hand imperiously for   the papers.

As the reporter looked at the contents of the folder, Ms.   Sherman explained, "It always takes Washington about six   weeks to figure out what the people in the field are up to.   I can make a call if you like." Her tone and demeanor were   helpful. She really hoped that the two reporters would go   back to Metropolis. Until they had arrived, things had been   going smoothly on her new job. Now she was faced with the   fact that she apparently wasn't working for the EPA but for   some bizarre, hidden federal bureau headed up by a nutcase.   If it weren't for her daughter, she'd try to become the   first to successfully resign from the agency.

Not believing a word that the other woman had said, Lois   came back with, "Do that. And while you're at it, we   definitely want to talk to Mr. Irig."

"I told you. He's been relocated during the disruption."

"But you didn't tell us where he went," Lois persisted.

"Because I don't know. Probably one of the motels." Ms.   Sherman willed the other woman to give up.

Lois was undeterred. "I doubt it. In case you didn't know,   this weekend is the Corn Festival. The motels for miles   around have probably been booked for weeks."

Ms. Sherman had had enough. "The government's got pull,"   she said, narrowed eyes showing that her patience was   wearing thin.

Clark placed his hand at the small of Lois's back. "C'mon,   Lois. We're wasting our time here. There are some other   things we can check out."

She allowed him to steer her toward the car as she took a   deep breath in an attempt to keep her temper. "I don't   trust that woman, Clark. She knows something she's not   telling us. Did you notice how she doesn't look us in the   eye? She's hiding something Clark, and I'd put money on it   being either Trask or Irig."

"Or both. I agree with you, Lois. But there's not much we   can do here right this minute. We need to go check out the   farm's history in town." As usual, Clark's was the voice of   reason.

"All right."

Gravel crunched beneath their feet. Lois slipped on   something and clutched Clark's arm.

As he looked down to see what had caused her to lose her   footing, he noticed the cowboy boots peaking out from the   legs of her jeans. "All ri...ight," he said with a grin.

A smile and a wink were Lois's reply.

As they drove away, Ms. Sherman entered a smaller tent   behind the one that Clark had X- rayed the day before.   Jason Trask was watching some of his men open a crate   marked Ultra-30. He turned when he heard her footsteps.

"They're back," she began.

"And?" Trask barked, irritated by the interruption.

"I think they believe me, but they want to see Mr. Irig,"   she explained.

"Tell them he'll be in touch." Trask turned his attention   back to the crate.

Ms. Sherman wasn't finished. "Look, If I'm involved in   this, I have to know what's at stake. In order to do my   job." If she were honest with herself or with Trask, she'd   have admitted that she wanted to know whether or not she   should blow the whistle on the colonel. So far, all he   seemed to have done was dig up this farm and push the owner   around a bit.

Trask made a decision. "Fair enough. I have reason to   believe there's a very important meteorite here in   Smallville."

The woman was more baffled than ever. "Meteorite? Why do   you need to keep it such a secret?" she asked.

Replying as if to a child, Trask said, "Because if I don't,   I will lose the element of surprise over Superman."

She was still confused. "What's Superman got to do with   this?"

"This, Ms. Sherman, was retrieved in Smallville, Kansas in   1966, not far from here." Trask's eyes gleamed with   excitement as he showed her the contents of the crate: a   tiny steel-blue space ship, marked with the same stylized   *S* that Superman wore on his suit. "The meteorite probably   landed here at the same time but wasn't discovered until   the latest storm. It seems reasonable to assume it comes   from the same source as Superman. The planet Krypton. It's   all here." The man's eyes gleamed with the feral glow of a   fanatic, as he read from the lab report: "Not of Earthly   origin. Periodic element 126. Emits an extremely high band   radiation that doesn't seem to affect humans. However, my   theory is that if a *Kryptonian* were exposed to a   significant piece for any length of time, the result could   be lethal." Trask looked smugly satisfied.

Still baffled, Sherman asked, "But why kill Superman? He   hasn't done anything hostile."

"His existence is hostile. He's the advance man... the   public relations guy. He's here to soften us up...for the   hoards to come. You understand this?" Trask's eyes were lit   with the light of a zealot, and his voice almost shook with   excitement.

Carole Sherman nodded tensely, aware that she had somehow   become mixed up with a homicidal lunatic who probably   *would* kill anyone who tried to resign from his   organization. Unsure how to extricate herself from the   situation safely, she decided to wait and see what else   happened. Perhaps those two reporters could help her.

*************

Lois slid onto a seat at a picnic table in   front of the "Smallville Coffee Shop" as Clark took the   seat opposite her. "Did you *really* have to say, 'Don't   mind my friend Lois. She's from Metropolis'?" She gave him   a mock glare.

He grinned sheepishly. "Well, you were coming off...a   little intense," he explained a little nervously.

"Clark, intensity might be a crime in Smallville, but in   Metropolis, it's a survival skill." Her expression dared   him to disagree. Tossing her notebook onto the table, she   commented, "All right. Four hours at City Hall. What do we   know?"

"We know that in twenty years, there were no permits and no   citations on the Irig property." Clark idly bit into a   potato chip from a basket on the table.

"Nothing to attract the attention of the federal   government," she stated.

"Nope, not until Wayne sent that rock to Wichita," Clark   agreed. "It makes no sense whatsoever for the EPA to be   here at all. Or for Smallville to be on the list."

Lois smiled in triumph. "Which means that the EPA list *we*   have is the real one, and Sherman's is a fake. Just like   that phony warrant was at the Planet."

Their discussion was interrupted by the arrival of an   attractive middle-aged waitress. As she plunked glasses of   ice water in front of them, she said, "Clark Kent! Your mom   said you were here for the Daily Planet. So this must be   Lois."

"How'd you guess?" Lois asked, resignation in her voice.

"I'm Maisie. How's the writing coming? I just love a good   novel. What kind is it?" The woman positively oozed   Midwestern friendliness.

Lois turned an incredulous eye on Clark.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he stammered, "I may   have just accidentally mentioned it to my mother..." A dull   red slowly crept up his neck and toward his eyebrows.

"Who just accidentally told everyone in town." Lois   completed his sentence, glad that he had the good grace to   blush.

Maisie tried to explain, "Oh, that's just Smallville for   you. Everybody knows everything about everybody else."

Lois couldn't resist the opportunity. "So why haven't I   heard any dirt on Clark here?" She took a large gulp of   water.

"Oh, with Clark, what you see is what you get," Maisie   cheerily replied.

Startled, Lois choked on the water and sprayed the table.   "I'll just bet it is," she managed to gasp as Maisie mopped   up the water.

"Here you go. I'll be back in a jif." She handed them menus   and headed back to the kitchen area.

"What you see is what you get," Lois mimicked. "I take it   she doesn't know," she whispered across the booth.

"Of course not, Lois." His eyes twinkled. "Except for that   one thing, she's right. My life is an open book."

"Uh huh. I guess I should be grateful that you didn't tell   your mother my novel is a romance," she said.

"Well, I don't see anything to be embarrassed about, even   if I had told her," he commented. "I think it's great that   you're writing a novel."

"You wouldn't if you ever saw it," she mumbled under her   breath, hoping he couldn't hear.

"Why? What's wrong with it?" he inquired.

She shook her head. "You think I'll ever get used to that   facet of you? *Please* tell me you're not telepathic," she   teased.

"Nah, you're the telepathic one, remember? And no, my   powers aren't back. You just said that too loud." He   decided to drop the subject of her novel. "Shouldn't we   decide if we're going to eat any lunch?" He reached for the   paper menu.

As she opened her menu, Lois heard her partner say, "Ow!"

She looked up to see him staring at his finger as if it   were that of a stranger. "I'm bleeding!"

"Haven't you ever had a paper cut?" she asked before she   realized that the answer would probably be...

"Not that I remember." He continued to stare at it. "It   hurts."

Lois laughed at his wounded expression. "Put it in your   mouth and suck on it. Trust me, no one ever died from a   paper cut."

Part 5

"There you are. Enjoy!" Maisie cheerfully deposited the   sandwiches Lois and Clark had ordered on the checked   tablecloth. "Do you all need anything else? Ketchup?   Mustard?"

Clark smiled and replied easily, "No thanks. We're fine."   As she walked away from their table, he turned to Lois.   "So, Lois, what do you want to do after lunch?"

She had just begun to reply when the shrill tones of her   cell phone interrupted her. "Lois Lane." She gave a   startled look at Clark and said, "Mr. Irig? Where are you?"   Mouthing the words, "He sounds strange," she listened to   what the missing farmer was saying. "I'm going to put you   on with Clark Kent." She handed the phone to her partner   and whispered, "He says he's near Salt Lake City."

Clark's stunned expression mirrored hers as he spoke into   the cell phone. "Wayne, this is Clark. Is everything all   right?" A minute passed and he said, "Is there a number   where I can call you back?" Apparently the reply was in the   negative, because the reporter twisted his mouth. Something   was wrong. "What did the government guys tell you about   your farm?" Another minute passed, then Clark said, "Wait,   Wayne!" He pushed the *end* button and handed the phone   back to Lois.

"Clark, you know Wayne Irig. Did he sound as weird to you   as he did to me?" Lois asked. "He said he didn't know where   he was. He had gotten in his Winnebago and started driving   west. Said he was going to visit his sister."

Her partner's eyes widened in surprise. "Lois, something   *very* fishy is going on here. And yes, he sounded very   weird." Clark thought of where he should begin.

"Fishy? Like what?"

"I don't know for sure, Lois, but something is definitely   wrong. Wayne Irig doesn't have a Winnebago, and he doesn't   have a sister. And that man has the best sense of direction   of anyone I've ever known. He and my Dad and his son Tom   and I used to go hiking together all the time. Wayne never   *didn't* know exactly how far we were from the trailhead or   what direction we needed to go. No way is he out west   somewhere and not know where he is." Clark shook his head.   "This is very strange."

"You think he was trying to tell us something?" Lois   demanded.

"I don't know. His inflection was so stilted, he could have   been reading a script..."

"That Trask gave him to read," Lois interjected.

"Yes." Clark's eyes lit up. "That's exactly what it sounded   like. And Trask might not know that I know Wayne and would   know that the whole conversation was wrong."

"Right. And how in the world did Wayne Irig know to call   *my* cell phone?" Lois asked suspiciously. "Who knows this   number other than you, me, Perry, and Jimmy?"

"Anyone who has looked at my rolodex in the last few   months," Clark replied, appalled at the possible   implications.

The two reporters stared at each other for an instant and   then said in unison, "Trask!"

"He certainly had the opportunity to go through my list of   contacts, including your cell phone number," Clark pointed   out.

"Why would he make a note of my cell phone number?"

"Why not? Lois, the guy's a psycho. There doesn't have to   be a rational reason for his actions. Looking for one is a   waste of time."

She rolled her eyes. "I guess. Ooh, he makes me mad every   time I think of him."

Clark brought the conversation back to the original   subject. "Fine. Let's find the man, and you can show him   just how mad you are." He looked at her plate. "You   finished?"

"Yes, why?"

"Then let's pay the bill and find my folks," he suggested.   "Maybe they know where Trask might be holding Wayne." He   knew it was a futile hope even as he spoke the words.   Anyone as deviously demented as Trask wouldn't be easy to   find, not even in Smallville.

She nodded her agreement and was sliding from the bench   when Martha and Jonathan arrived. She greeted them, then   said, "Clark, why don't you stay here and talk to your   parents. I've got something I want to check out on the   other side of the square. It won't take too long."

"Okay. See you in a few minutes." Clark smiled at his   parents as they joined him.

"That gal never quits, does she?" his father asked as Lois   strode off into the Corn Festival crowd.

"Not often, no," was the amused reply.

Worried about her only son, Martha asked, "How are you   feeling, honey?"

"I'm fine, Mom."

"Are your powers back? If they aren't, we should take you   to a doctor." Concern tinged her words.

"And tell the doctor what? 'Hi, I'm Superman in my spare   time and I ran across this green rock. I think it made me   sick and I've lost my powers'?" Clark asked in a good   imitation of his partner's babble. "I'm fine, Mom. I'm just   normal."

"But normal for you is super," his father whispered. "It   doesn't make sense. I don't see how your powers can be   completely gone just from being around that crystal."

"It might not make sense, but it's happened, Dad. Let me   show you." Clark rose from the table and made his way   toward the *Strong Man* attraction. Paying the carnival   barker, Clark picked up the sledge hammer.

"Ring the bell and win a prize," the man told him.

Clark tested the hammer's weight, then gave a hearty swing.   The ball inched past the mark for "Wimp" and edged up to   "Better luck next time." Refusing to take another chance at   it, he turned to his father. "See what I mean?" he asked as   they walked away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lois   handing a bag to his mother who had wandered away while the   two men played with the strength machine.

"Would you mind taking this back to the house when you go?   And could you please hang it up for me?" Lois asked Martha.   "I don't really want Clark to see it until tonight."

Sneaking a peek, Martha spied something made of burgundy   calico. "Is this that dress I saw you looking at   yesterday?"

"Yes, but please don't tell Clark," the younger woman   begged.

Martha chuckled. "I'd be happy to take care of it for you,   Lois. I think that color will look real good on you."   Taking the bag, she smiled. Lois was as transparent as   Clark when it came to hiding her feelings for her partner.   If only Jonathan could see what was right under their   noses. The one question was, were Clark and Lois aware of   their feelings, or did they actually believe their story of   being "just friends"? Martha chuckled all the way to the   car.

Upon her return, she had to laugh. Clark and Lois were   standing at the booth that was proclaiming "Desserts:   Cotton Candy, Caramel Apples, Sno-Cones, Funnel Cakes." She   could have sworn that Lois was the type to eschew dessert   under any guise, but to see her debating between those   particular choices was a real surprise. Lois finally   decided on a caramel apple. Martha was amused by the   blissful expression on the other woman's face as she bit   into the gooey treat. Lois was obviously more than just a   big-city reporter. Clark's attraction to her was becoming   more understandable by the minute.

***************

"So what's the plan?" Clark asked Lois as they drew near   the Irig farm.

"Plan?" Lois asked innocently.

Clark quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, plan. Once we get to   Wayne's place, what are you planning on doing?

"Do a little snooping on the other side of it. If Trask is   in the area, then Wayne has got to be with him." Lois   wrinkled her nose. "And we see if we see anything   suspicious."

"Great plan," he said with a wry grin. "I'm surprised I   didn't think of it."

"Well," she began somewhat indignantly. "Do you have a   better idea?"

"No, not really." He pulled the car over to the side of the   road. "Let's see if we can find anything."

The two reporters began to make their way toward the   central area of the farm through a stand of oak trees.   About one hundred yards from the house, they ran out of   cover. Putting a hand on Lois's shoulder, Clark whispered,   "You were right. There *is* a second tent. Look over   there." He pointed toward what appeared to a storage tent   behind the barn.

"I bet that's where Trask has got Wayne Irig," Lois hissed.   "Let's go get him," she suggested.

Before Clark could counter with a proposal to call in   backup in the form of Sheriff Rachel Harris, the duo was   startled by the sight of several men in camouflage fatigues   dropping out of the trees. They were the same men that had   been on the airplane when Trask had thrown them out of it.   They looked even nastier and more determined than they had   that time.

"Just who do you think you are?" she snarled at them. "Keep   your hands off me," she threw over her shoulder at a man   who had grabbed her arms and was pulling them backwards.   She kicked viciously backwards with her booted foot,   connecting with the man's shin. His grip on her arms   loosened as he fought the pain from her move.

She had almost succeeded in shaking him when she heard   Clark's strangled cry, "No! Lois!" She turned to see   another of the Bureau 39 agents pointing a rifle straight   at her head. She could hear the "click" as he let off the   safety. Not willing to get killed just yet, Lois ceased   struggling with a pang. She had been so close to winning   free. Her captor, having recovered his equilibrium, yanked   her around so that she saw another agent's fist connect   with Clark's abdomen just as he tried to pull free from the   man restraining him.

"You guys think you're so tough! Well, you aren't. You can   only win if you outnumber people and hit them while someone   else holds them. You're a bunch of wimps. You disgust me,"   she snarled at them. Her words were stopped by the sight of   the agent slamming his fist into Clark's midriff yet again.

"I suggest you refrain from making any additional   comments," the agent told her. "Since you don't seem to   care about your own safety, every time you open that big   mouth of yours, I'm going to hit your partner here. Maybe   you'll care more about his well-being than you do about   your own," the man commented snidely. The Bureau 39   operatives hustled Lois and Clark across the clearing to   the tent behind the barn.

Lois spoke to Clark in a low voice, asking, "Are you all   right? Believe me, *this* was not in the plan."

Her partner replied, "Yeah, I'll live. They just knocked   the wind out of me for a minute. What about you?"

"I'm fine." She grinned crookedly. "What do you bet we meet   up with Trask now?"

"No bet, Lois. I'm pretty sure we will," he answered dryly.

As they neared the tent, Colonel Trask came out, Ms.   Sherman following in his wake. "Well, well, if it isn't the   intrepid reporters," he boomed. "What brings you two here?"

"Our newspaper sent us to investigate an environmental   cleanup," Clark answered.

"And what are you doing here, Trask?" Lois almost snarled.   "I find it hard to believe that you've gone to work for the   EPA."

"You're right, Ms. Lane. I'm not here for my environmental   virtue any more than you are." His tone was almost genial.   "So why don't we cut the small talk?"

"Okay," Clark responded. "What have you done with Wayne   Irig?" He strained his eyes to see into the tent, but his   powers were still gone. Nevertheless, his concern for the   farmer remained.

Trask smiled. "I let him go," he stated in a matter-of-fact   tone. "Small town ties mean a lot. Anyone else would have   given up their contact in a minute. This man took sodium   pentothal and a couple of broken fingers and he still   didn't talk. Then it came to me. Let him go." He smiled   expansively. "So I did."

"And put a tracking device on him, no doubt," Lois spat   out.

Trask addressed the agent holding her. "Get her out of my   sight. She's annoying me."

Nodding his agreement, the man yanked her arms and pulled   her toward the main tent. As he dragged her away, she   called out to Ms. Sherman, "Did you really think that you   were working for the EPA? Or did you volunteer to become a   thug? Do you think your parents would be proud of you if   they knew what you are doing? Huh? Well, do you?"

"Lois!" Clark shouted as he struggled vainly to free   himself.

"Relax, Mr. Kent," Trask advised. "No one is going to hurt   her. My business is with you." He jerked his head in the   direction of the smaller tent. "Take him in there," he   ordered the agents holding Clark.

The man shoved Lois inside the main tent and tied her to a   chair, using plastic tie wraps to restrain her. "Keep your   mouth shut, and you'll be all right," he advised. After   assuring himself that she was unable to move from the   chair, he returned to the farmyard.

Alone with only her thoughts for company, Lois pondered her   next move. The tie wraps weren't too tight, but they were   tight enough that she couldn't get her hands free. And the   ones shackling her ankles together were even snugger.   Unless someone came to free her, it didn't look like she'd   be going anywhere any time soon. Worry for her partner   formed a hard lump in her stomach. There was no telling   what Trask would do to Clark, especially since the loss of   his powers had left him vulnerable to physical damage. Lois   willed herself to remain calm and think logically about the   situation. The expression on Ms. Sherman's face had been   odd as Lois had hurled her accusations at the woman. She   had looked almost stunned, as if Lois were giving her new   information. Perhaps she would prove to be a weak link in   Trask's operation. Lois settled back in the chair to plan   what she would say to Sherman the first chance she got.

Part 6

Trask directed a   malevolent glare at Clark as he said to the reporter, "I'll   make a deal with you. Give up the alien, and I'll let you   live." He eyed the agents training their rifles on the   younger man. "What do you say, Kent?"

Clark considered his options. Although they hadn't tied him   up, the guns pointed at his head were a pretty strong   deterrent to action at the moment. He could jump up and tip   the table that was between him and Trask into his captor,   probably disabling him for a few seconds. The likelihood of   getting to the tent flap before one of the other agents   shot him, however, was slight. In his current vulnerable   state, Clark couldn't really see taking the risk. Patience   might lead to another solution. He looked up at Trask and   spoke. "What makes you think I could do that, assuming that   I even wanted to? You seem to think that Lois and I have   some special way of contacting Superman, but truthfully, we   don't. He only comes when Lois screams...and then only if   he's around." His mouth twisted, as if he were   disappointed. For all he knew, Superman might never be   around again.

"Superman came to Smallville around the time you were   born," Trask explained angrily. "There has to be a   connection between you. You probably played together as   children." He gave an evil smile. "Tell me how to get to   Superman, and I'll let you live."

Clark shook his head in denial. "You're wrong, Trask. I'm   learning all this for the first time right now. I never saw   Superman before he arrived in May."

Trask whirled and pointed at the tiny spaceship. "Do you   see that ship? It was retrieved from Shuster's field in   May, 1966. Given that the front of it carries Superman's   shield, I'd say it's the ship he came to earth in. You have   to have known him all of your life."

"I can't help you here, Trask."

The colonel slammed his hand down on the table so hard it   rocked. "Damnit, Kent! I'm trying to save humanity from an   alien invasion! Are you too stupid to see that?"

"You're wrong, Trask," Clark protested. "Superman isn't 'an   alien invasion.' He's a man with special powers who is   trying to help humanity."

Trask leaned into the young man's face. He was so close,   Clark could feel the agent's breath on his face. "Kent, I   know your partner is impetuous and foolhardy, but I thought   you had more sense. It's obvious that Superman is just   softening us up to give us a false sense of security. Once   he's lulled us into complacency, he'll take over the world.   And no one will be able to stop him!"

"You've got no proof of that," Clark insisted. "Superman   has said he's here to help. I believe him."

The older man's eyes squinted as he looked at Clark.   "May...be the alien has taken over your mind. Perhaps it   has infused you with its power. Maybe Irig did tell me what   I wanted to know. That three-legged kitten..."

"No one has taken over my mind or infused me with his   power, Trask," Clark stated. "Maybe you've gone over the   edge and lost your grip on reality. Three-legged kitten?   You think Superman started out as the Shusters' three-  legged cat?" Clark wasn't sure whether he should be amused   or terrified at the leap of illogic Trask's mind had made.

As Trask raised his arm to plant a fist in Clark's face,   Ms. Sherman entered the tent. "We've got a location on   Irig," she said, sounding apologetic. "He's heading down   the access road to the home of a Jonathan Kent." She looked   away from Clark, unwilling to see his expression.

An evil smile spread slowly across Trask's face. "You   should have told me that it was a family affair, Clark. I   would have gone easier on you." The Bureau 39 agent began   snapping orders at the others in the tent.

As two of the other men shackled Clark's legs and wrists,   Ms. Sherman asked tentatively, "What about me?"

Annoyed, Trask barked out, "Help with the packing. We've   got to get clear of the area as soon as possible." He   turned to the men with Clark and snapped, "Put him in the   van. He's coming with me. The rest of you, get this place   cleaned up. I'll meet you at sector 10 as soon as I'm   finished at the Kent farm."

The agent gripping Clark's arm shoved him through the tent   flap and toward the waiting van while Trask stopped in the   farmyard to give some last minute orders. He failed to   notice the light hit the telephoto lens of the camera held   by Jimmy Olsen. Concealed in the stand of trees behind the   farmhouse and the tents, the young photographer had been   happily shooting pictures of the earth-moving equipment   when he saw Clark being hustled out of the tent and shoved   into a van. His hands cuffed in front of him and his ankles   tethered to each other only six inches apart, Clark still   struggled with his captors as they manhandled him into the   unmarked vehicle.

Jimmy snapped several photographs as he wondered what to   do. Getting police assistance seemed like a good idea, so   he quietly sneaked back through the woods to find his   rental car. Deciding to return to the town and call the   police, Jimmy felt his heart hammer every time he stepped   on a dry twig. He hoped to heaven that the sheriff's office   in this rural town ran to someone who was halfway   intelligent.

***************

"I still don't understand how that rock made Clark lose his   powers," Jonathan said to Martha as they put away some   tools in the barn after finishing the afternoon chores.   "All because I opened that box."

His wife laid a hand on his arm. "I don't understand   either, Jonathan. But he'll get through this. He's always   said he wanted to be normal. Maybe he'll be happier this   way."

Her husband shook his head sadly. "It just doesn't feel   right. Normal for Clark is super. So he's *not* normal." He   hung a rake on a hook on the wall. "And it's all my fault."

"Jonathan! Don't even think that. You had no way of knowing   what that rock would do to Clark. Don't blame yourself for   that." Martha's eyes flashed. "Besides, for all we know,   this is temporary. His powers could be back by now."

"I suppose." He still sounded dejected and guilty.

As Martha put her arms around him in silent comfort they   heard a truck pull up in the driveway.

"Jonathan! Martha! It's me, Wayne!" Their neighbor stumbled   into the barn, a bandanna wrapped around his broken hand.

Jonathan turned to him and said, "Wayne, what happened to   you? You look terrible."

"We got a problem. There's men up at my place with guns. We   need to call the police."

His friend tried to calm him. "It's all right, Wayne. We   need to get you to a doctor."

The farmer was insistent. "Jonathan, those government   people aren't looking for pesticides. They're looking for   more of those green rocks like the one I gave you. We got   to hide it."

Martha spoke up, "It's been taken care of, Wayne.   Jonathan's right. We need to take you to the hospital."

Irig held his ground. "Martha, those men, they're crazy!   They think Superman is going to lead an invasion of earth   by other superpowered people. They want to kill him! We   gotta go find Rachel Harris and get her to arrest them." He   looked wildly at his two neighbors who were staring at him,   dumbfounded. "Did you hear what I said? We gotta go find   Rachel!" The distraught farmer stumbled toward the barn   door, only to be forced back inside by an imposing man in   gray fatigues and combat boots.

The soldier was brandishing a wicked-looking semi-automatic   pistol as he said, "No one is going anywhere until you give   me Superman!"

The door behind him was blocked by more men in combat gear   who were carrying semi- automatic rifles. They took   positions near the doorway, guns ready for action. At a   signal from the leader, several other men herded the Kents   and Wayne Irig to a space on the floor and forced them to   sit down, back to back. They efficiently bound their hands   and feet and then wrapped a rope around the trio. Their   task finished, the men began to look around the barn.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Martha demanded.

"I'm looking for a large green crystal that I believe Mr.   Irig, here, must have given you for safekeeping," the   leader explained. "That crystal is important to national   security, and it's imperative that it be found." He eyed   the three people on the floor suspiciously. "If any of you   know where it is but don't tell me, then you are guilty of   conspiracy and lying to the FBI." Trask glared menacingly   at Martha.

"Don't look at me," she told him. "I don't know what you   are talking about, and what's more, I'm not sure that I   want to." Martha looked him over appraisingly. "Don't you   think that if you want to fool people into thinking that   you are in the army, olive green or khaki might be a better   choice? Gray is so..." She searched her memory for the   right word. "So *not* military." She shook her head sadly.   "It really is too bad, but you aren't going to find a rock   that doesn't exist or a man who lives in Metropolis in this   barn. You're just going to find a few tools and a couple of   bales of hay."

Goaded beyond the tenuous limits of his self-control, Trask   spat, "You better hope that I can find Superman here,   because otherwise, the three of you are toast." He turned   on his heel and strode angrily from the barn, motioning to   his men to follow him. "I'm not through with you people   yet," he spat at them over his shoulder.

The crazed field-director of Bureau 39 returned to the van   where Clark sat slumped, his shackled hands attached to the   ceiling. Throwing open the doors at the back of the   vehicle, Trask snarled, "Your situation becomes ever more   perilous, Mr. Kent. I have your parents now. If you want   them to live, you'll give me what I want."

Clark shook his head. "Trask, I *can't* give you Superman.   I have no idea how to get a hold of him."

The agent regarded him through narrowed eyes. "I don't   believe you. I told you before, I can tell when I'm being   lied to. And I'm being lied to right now. So, I'll put it   to you as plainly as I can. You give me Superman--I don't   kill your parents. You don't give me Superman--you're an   orphan." He bared his teeth in a twisted facsimile of a   smile. "It's really very simple, Clark." Shoving his hands   into his pockets, Trask whistled tunelessly for a second.   "See you in a minute. I have a fire to set."

He strolled away from the van, calling to an operative to   bring the gasoline. The two men poured a line of the   volatile chemical to the open doorway of the Kents' barn.   Sneering at the three people tied to each other, he said,   "I'll give you one last chance. Give up Superman, and I'll   let you live." He looked expectantly at the trio. "Well?   I'm waiting."

"And you're gonna wait a lot longer," Jonathan replied. "We   can't give up Superman. In case you haven't noticed, he's   not here."

"Is that your final answer?" Trask demanded angrily. "You   do no one any favors by refusing to tell me how to get to   him. Regardless of what you do, I *will* find Superman; and   when I do, I *will* remove him."

The venomous look in the man's eyes strengthened Martha's   resolve to save her son. "You're insane, you know. At the   very least, you suffer from narcissistic personality   disorder. Have you considered therapy? They can work   wonders these days with some of the new psychotropic drugs.   Of course, when you're delusional, I believe it takes some   really intensive in-patient work to make much difference."

Trask stared at her in disbelief as Jonathan muttered,   "Adult education is a marvelous thing, isn't it, Wayne?"

"Mrs. Kent, I believe that you are the one who is suffering   from delusions. You believe that Superman is here to do   good. I *know* that he is here to take over the world. Only   a fool would believe that he should not be stopped." He   turned on his heel and stalked to the door.

Returning to the van, he asked Clark once more, "Have you   made up your mind? Time is getting short." He pulled his   gun from its holster once again. "Your parents and that   farmer are about to be char-broiled."

Desperate to save his parents, Clark temporized. "You have   to promise to let them go."

Trask smiled indulgently. "Oh, I will. You can be sure of   that. I just want Superman."

Knowing that he was a fool to trust the word of a madman,   Clark swallowed and said, "I'm Superman."

"Really?" the agent asked, scowling. He aimed his gun at   Clark and cocked it.

"No! Trask!" Clark cried out in an anguished voice.

The man released the hammer and replaced the gun in its   holster. "That was real fear, Clark. Superman doesn't fear   guns. He's invulnerable to bullets. I think it's time for a   country barbecue." He smiled tightly. "Would you like to   watch? It should be interesting." He turned from the van   and headed back to the trail of gasoline in the barnyard.

********************

Seeing several people wearing the brown uniform of a county   sheriff's department, Jimmy pulled his car to a stop in the   Smallville town square. Leaving it double-parked, he raced   up to a large, burly man in uniform. "Sheriff, I need your   help!" he said breathlessly.

"Over hear," a feminine voice with a decidedly country   twang called to him from behind.

Jimmy turned to see a petite woman with strawberry blonde   hair holding out her hand for his keys. "Hank, put this car   somewhere legal, OK?" she said to her deputy as she tossed   him the keys. Turning back to Jimmy, she went on, "Okay, if   you've got an emergency, start talking."

Taking a deep breath, Jimmy related his tale. "I'm Jimmy   Olsen, from Metropolis. My friends have been captured by   this crazy guy named Trask. He wants to kill Superman, and   he thinks Lois and Clark know how to get Superman for him.   Anyway, he just put Clark in a van up at a farm owned by   someone named Irig. We gotta help my friends or he'll kill   them too."

As the young man paused for breath, Rachel interjected,   "Lois Lane and Clark Kent? This 'crazy guy' has them at   Wayne Irig's?"

Nodding, Jimmy went on. "Well, he did have them there. But   I saw some of his guys shove Clark into a van, so he may be   leaving the farm. But we gotta help them. Can you call the   National Guard? or the State Police?" He was getting   frantic.

Rachel called to another deputy. "Bill, round up Tom and   Joe, and meet me at Wayne Irig's. And tell John to get out   to the Kents'. This guy may be heading there." Jerking her   head toward her cruiser, she said to Jimmy, "C'mon. Let's   go." They entered the car and within seconds, Rachel was   pulling away from the curb.

*****************

Carole Sherman walked into the second tent where Lois,   strapped to a chair, was quietly seething. The erstwhile   EPA field agent had thought that her best bet might be to   just go along quietly with this Bureau 39 agent until she   got recalled by Washington. After all, she did have a   daughter to raise, and it was unlikely that the man could   actually kill Superman. She had thought that his idea about   the existence of a crystal from Superman's home planet that   might be lethal to the superhero was merely a fantasy on   the part of the delusional man...until she had seen some of   the other military types putting glowing green crystals   into a metal box. They had then loaded the box into the van   Trask was using to take Clark Kent to his parents' farm.   Ms. Sherman had no idea whether or not the rocks would   actually harm Superman, but she now had proof that they   existed. Perhaps it was time to rethink her decision to say   nothing.

Seeing the person she considered the weak link in the   Bureau 39 operation, Lois opened her mouth to speak.   "What's going on?" she asked, her worry and lack of   knowledge getting the best of her.

The other woman began rummaging in a drawer. "Ms. Lane, I   want you to understand something. *I* really do work for   the EPA. Apparently, Trask managed to get me assigned to   his little gig here to provide cover for them. You seem to   know him. Is he merely crazy or would he actually try to   kill Superman?"

Lois raised her eyebrows. What on earth was going on here?   Was Sherman the enemy or not? "Oh, he'd try to kill   Superman if he thought he had a weapon that could. He's   already tried to kill Superman back in Metropolis. He tried   to kill Clark and me, too. He's crazy all right, but he's   crazy like a fox."

"That's what I'm afraid of. If I help you, will you help   me? Trask has threatened me and my daughter."

"Of course," the reporter replied, glad to have an ally.

Ms. Sherman turned toward Lois, a large pair of scissors in   her hand. "Anyway," she went on as she calmly snipped the   ties securing Lois to the chair, "Trask has your friend's   parents. He's going to burn down their place."

Lois gasped in horror. "What about Clark?"

Ms. Sherman shrugged. "He has other plans for him. Trask   thinks that your friend can somehow make Superman appear.   Maybe he thinks that if he sets the fire, Mr. Kent will   summon Superman."

Wondering if Clark was even capable of "summoning   Superman," Lois asked, "And then what?"

"If Superman shows up, Trask is going to try to use this   green rock they found here to kill him," Ms. Sherman   explained.

Really worried now, Lois asked, "Do you mean the rock Wayne   Irig sent to the lab?"

"No. The Bureau 39 guys found some more rocks here when   they were digging. Trask has them with him and your   friend."

A sick feeling settled in Lois's stomach. Even if Clark's   powers had returned by now, if he got free from Trask and   returned as Superman to save his parents, the madman would   be able to use the rock to disable the hero. She reached   for her cell phone and dialed 911. Perhaps Rachel Harris   could save the Kents and Clark. One thing was clear to her:   time was getting short. Lois waited impatiently for the   police dispatcher to answer her call.

Part 7

"Base to Unit one," the voice squawked over the police   radio in Rachel Harris's cruiser.

"Unit one. Go ahead, Base," Rachel replied into the   microphone.

She listened intently for a second. "Put her on." Turning   to Jimmy, she mouthed, "It's Lois Lane."

The young photographer slumped in his seat in relief. If   Lois was able to call the police, things must be looking up   for her and Clark. Now, if only Lois was with Clark."

"I know. A kid from the Planet is here with me. He told me   there was trouble up at Wayne Irig's. We're headed there   now."

On the other end of the connection Lois hastily got out,   "No! Don't come here. Trask and some of his men have taken   Clark to the Kents' farm. I think they are going to kill   them. You need to get to the Kents'." She gritted her teeth   at the slowness of bucolic law enforcement.

"All right, Lois. But relax. I've got a deputy on his way   there now. So you don't need to get your knickers in a   twist." Rachel couldn't decide if she liked Lois or not,   and she sure didn't know if Lois was good enough for Clark;   but at least the Lane woman seemed to care about him and   his family. "Do you have transportation, or should I send   someone to get you?"

"I have a car. Thanks." Lois was worried sick about her   partner. Was there any way to get his attention? "Rachel,   can I talk to Jimmy?"

"Sure." The sheriff handed the radio handset to the   photographer.

"Jimmy, it's Lois. Do you have that signal watch on you?"   she asked.

He nodded.

"You have to press the button and talk, Jimmy," Rachel   reminded him.

"Oops," he said. "Yeah, Lois. Why?"

"I want you to press the button to signal Superman. Maybe   he can hear it from this far and come help us," Lois said   hopefully. If Clark heard the signal, he would know that   his powers had returned. And he would also be able to   figure out that help was on the way, even if he thought it   was only Jimmy. "All right?" she prodded.

"Right, Lois. Pressing the button now." Jimmy leaned out   the window of the police car and pressed the signal. "Sorry   about this, Big Guy, but I think this qualifies as an   emergency."

Rachel retrieved the radio handset and replaced it as she   swung the cruiser around to head toward the Kents'. She   hoped they would be in time. The Kents were fantastic   people; she certainly didn't want them terrorized by a   maniacal killer. She pressed harder on the accelerator and   tore off down the country road, her siren blazing and her   lights flashing.

******************

The erstwhile director of Bureau 39   spoke quietly to the other agents who had come to the Kent   farm with him. "I don't need any more help. You two go on   to the rendezvous in sector 10. I'll join you shortly." As   an afterthought, he added, "And you might call Sherman and   make sure they got everything packed up and moved from the   dig site."

The two men agreed to follow the orders and drove off,   leaving Trask with the van that was Clark's prison.

Knowing that Clark could see his every move from the van,   Trask very slowly and methodically pulled a book of matches   from his pocket. Gloating at his success at ridding the   world of at least the traitors to their race, the people   who had knowingly sheltered the alien, the Bureau 39 agent   removed a single match from the booklet. Gasoline, he   thought, should make a lovely fire-starter for the dried   straw and hay in the barn. Too bad that he still hadn't   smoked out Superman. Trask grinned coldly at his pun.   Perhaps the terrified screams of the trio in the barn would   summon the alien. When the Man of Steel arrived to save   them, he too would succumb to the justice meted out by   Trask.

It seemed to Clark that everything was happening in slow   motion as the madman drew the match head across the emery   strip and the tiny flame leaped into view. Just as Trask   threw the match onto the trail of gasoline, an ear-  shattering tone claimed Clark's attention. What the...?   Jimmy's signal watch? "I'm back!" he thought exultantly.   Clark smiled grimly and tugged his shackled wrists. The   metal bonds snapped at the assault. Ripping the leg-irons   from his ankles, Clark thought that having his ear-drums   tortured had never felt so good. He leaped from the van and   inhaled the flames racing across the barnyard toward his   parents and their friend. As he exhaled the smoke from his   lungs, he looked for Trask and his henchmen. Not seeing   them, he ran to the barn to free his parents. His fingers   worked at the knots in the rope, his back to the barn door.

"Clark, behind you," his mother warned. Clark whirled to   see an infuriated Trask striding back toward the barn.   "Just a minute, Mom," he said as he turned to meet his   adversary. Addressing the agent, Clark said, "Not another   step, Trask." Clark moved out of the barn, eager to   immobilize the man until the police could be summoned to   take him away.

Trask smiled genially. "Fine, Clark. I'll stay right here."   He stood at ease, his hands clasped behind his back, his   legs spread. "I suppose you think you've won."

Clark's mouth twisted in a grimace. "This wasn't about   winning and losing, Trask. This was about your obsession   with believing things that aren't true. Superman doesn't   want to dominate the world. And I think you know that. You   just can't give up the idea. I suppose you see it as a   failure." He reached out his hand. "Now, give me your gun,   Trask. You aren't going to be needing it."

The older man gave a chilly smile. "You're right. I'm *not*   going to need my gun. After all, *I* have this." He brought   his hands from behind his back and displayed several good-  sized chunks of crystal, all glowing with the sickly green   light that had characterized the chunk that Jonathan had   shown Clark the night before. Trask tossed one at Clark's   feet and was gratified to see the immediate affect on the   man.

As the pain knifed through him and he fell to the ground,   Clark thought despairingly of Lois and his parents. Once he   was out of the way, there would be nothing to stop Trask   from killing them too. But no, help must be on the way, he   thought. He had heard Jimmy's watch signal, which meant   that Jimmy had arrived from Metropolis. Somehow, Jimmy must   have found out there was trouble. All Clark had to do was   keep Trask occupied until help arrived. Barely able to   breathe, Clark scrabbled around on the ground, searching   for the crystal. Trying to ignore the searing pain he felt   as he touched it, Clark raised up on one arm and threw the   rock as far as he could into the fenced pasture beside the   barn. Hopefully his father's bull would prevent Trask from   trying to retrieve it. As the nausea and pain receded,   Clark gathered himself together. Without his powers, he   could still be killed by the other man. And there was no   telling what Trask would do, balked of the opportunity to   see Superman die because of the poisonous rock.

"Very clever, Clark. Or should I say 'Superman'?" Trask   sneered. He laughed derisively at the man lying on the   dusty barnyard. "You think you're so superior to us mortals   as you fly around, pretending to do good. The world thinks   you're a hero--a 'god in a cape.' But I know better. I know   you are just the advance man for the invasion to come. I am   curious about one thing. If you don't contact them, will   the rest of the Kryptonians invade? Or do they have to get   your signal?"

"You're wrong, Trask," Clark gasped. "There aren't any   other Kryptonians. There aren't any invasion plans."

Suddenly Trask's expression changed. His eyes blazed as he   shouted, "You lie! And you're going to die. You and the   traitors in that barn. The only question is: who should go   first?" The man pulled his pistol from its holster and   advanced toward Clark. Pausing only to drop another chunk   of crystal by Clark's body, he sneered, "This little piece   of home is going to be the death of you." He wheeled around   and took a step toward the barn.

Summoning every last bit of strength he had, Clark pushed   off the ground and dove at Trask, knocking him to the   ground. Fighting to gain control of the gun, the two men   wrestled across the barnyard. Clark wrenched Trask's wrist   backwards, causing him to drop the gun. Clark released his   hold on the man and went for the pistol. As Clark grabbed   the gun from the yard and turned to face Trask, the larger   man dove for him, causing him to lose his grip on the gun.

It flew out of his hand, and they both watched in dismay as   the .45 sailed through the air and landed on the other side   of the fence. As it hit the ground, the handgun went off,   its sharp report enraging the bull. Nostrils flaring and   eyes blazing, it charged the fence. The animal glared at   the two men who had disturbed his afternoon siesta. Clark   had never been happier to see evidence of Ferdinand's   occasional bad temper in his life. Apparently frightened by   the massive animal pawing angrily on the turf, Trask   quickly moved away.

"This is over, Trask," Clark stated. "You're going to jail   for attempted murder, murder, fraud, and who knows what   else."

"Wrong again, Superman." The look Trask gave him was   venomous. "You were right about one thing, though. I don't   need a gun." With that, he launched a furious assault at   Clark, a volley of karate blows raining down on the   reporter. A vicious kick to the abdomen had Clark bent   double, gasping for breath. "On second thought, I think   I'll kill your parents first. You'll really hate watching   them die, knowing that you were too weak to save them.   Without your superpowers, you're not even as strong as a   human being." The agent turned to return to the barn.

"No!," Clark cried as he grabbed at Trask's ankle. His long   fingers caught hold of the man's boot, and he wrenched as   hard as he could. A combination of anger and fear lent him   strength. He pulled the other man down, and once again they   were rolling around on the ground, landing blows whenever   possible. Each roll seemed to take them closer to the   nearby farm pond.

Trask, taken by surprise at Clark's determination, fought   furiously. His hands chopped at Clark's neck and his booted   feet kicked at his legs. Finding his footing, Trask hauled   both of them to their feet. A sharp left hook narrowly   missed Clark's nose, while a sharp kick to his shins by a   steel-toed combat boot caused the reporter's eyes to water   from the pain.

Knowing that his strength was fading fast, Clark took a   swing at Trask's jaw, connecting so hard that the man fell   into the pond at the edge of the yard. The larger man   pulled him into the water as went, and they continued to   thrash around in the pond, their water- logged clothing and   boots hampering their movements. Finally, Clark got the   upper hand and had Trask pinned against a large rock in the   middle of the pond.

His hair streaming, his glasses gone, his light blue denim   shirt plastered to his torso, Clark looked more like   Superman than Clark. As he clutched Trask's shirt in his   fists, he muttered through clenched teeth, "This ends now.   Do you understand? You will keep your wild ideas to   yourself, and if you ever get out of prison, you will stay   away from my family and friends. Is there any part of that   you don't understand?" He fairly spat the words at his   enemy.

"You better just kill me, Superman. I'll tell everyone I   meet that you're really Clark Kent." The fire in Trask's   eyes went out, and he looked thoughtful. "Or is it the   other way around? Is Clark Kent really Superman?" His mouth   twisted in a parody of a smile. "Like I said, go ahead.   Kill me."

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer every minute.   Clark sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whoever had   called the police and gotten them to the farm on time. He   turned his attention back to the man he was pinning to the   rock. "That's not how I work. You really don't know me at   all, Trask, or you would understand that." He took in a   gulping breath of air. "Now, if Lois had you here, I'd make   no guarantees about your safety. Lucky for you, it's me and   not her. I'll see you in court," he stated and released the   agent. Turning away in disgust, Clark stumbled to the bank   of the pond. The fight over, his energy spent, he could   feel the aftermath of the poisoning and the exertion.   Adrenaline no longer coursing through his veins, Clark   barely made it to shore. Finding his glasses, he replaced   them on his face and practically crawled onto dry land just   as several Sheriff's Department cruisers and his and Lois's   rental car pulled into the farmyard and stopped.

Exhausted, Clark stood by the pond, trying to summon the   energy to complete the climb back to the level ground of   the barnyard. He saw Lois jump out of the rental, but he   was too tired to even move just yet. He stared numbly at   her beautiful face, the face he'd thought he might never   see again, and was awed once more that she seemed to care   for him.

Just as he thought he might set himself in motion again,   she screamed, "Clark!"

He whirled to see the flash of light come from the mouth of   a small gun in Trask's hand. "Now where did that come   from?" he thought, as he felt the sting of a bullet crease   his upper arm. The sound of the shot was drowned out by the   much louder report of a police-issue Glock 40. He watched   in stunned surprise as Trask's eyes widened in shock at the   feel of the bullet slamming into his chest. The rogue   government agent opened his mouth to say something but was   dead before he ever formed the words.

Clark turned back to see Rachel staring at her own smoking   pistol, her eyes wide at what she had just done. Concerned   for his old friend who had just killed a man in order to   save his life, he felt relief when he saw one of the   deputies approach her and wrap a friendly arm around her.

Wearily, he took another step up the embankment but was   almost knocked off-balance by his partner barreling into   him. "Oh, Clark! I thought he was going to kill you," Lois   whispered in his ear as she wound her arms around his neck   and clung to him, sobbing. "I was so scared for you."

Returning her embrace, he spared a second to look past her   shoulder and check on Rachel and his parents. One of the   deputies, Hank he thought, was still hugging her and   telling her everything was fine. Another deputy was in the   barn, undoubtedly untying his parents and Wayne Irig.   Deciding he didn't care what had happened to Trask's body   or Carole Sherman or even Jimmy, Clark shut out the rest of   the occupants of the farmyard and concentrated on the   incredible sensation of being choked to death by his   girlfriend.

"Um, Lois, could you not squeeze quite so tight?" he   croaked. "I can barely breathe." He pulled her closer as he   spoke, making her wonder if he really meant what he had   said. Burying his face in her hair, he marveled at the   feeling of being alive after all that had just happened.

She didn't answer but unclasped her hands from around his   neck and threaded them into his hair. Tugging gently, she   pulled his head into position so that she could kiss him.   "Clark, I was so scared," she repeated right before she   pressed her lips to his, making any reply impossible. She   pressed her body into his sopping wet shirt, wishing she   could melt right into him and never be separated from him   again.

Long moments later, he pulled his head back so that he   could drink in the sight of her face. "Me too, Lois. Me   too," he whispered before kissing her again. Perhaps when   he had time to think about it, he'd remember that without   his powers, he was feeling a definite chill standing here   in the shade in his soaked clothing, to say nothing of the   burning sensation in his upper right arm where Trask's   bullet had grazed a furrow. But for the moment, he decided   he'd savor the moment of holding Lois in his arms and   feeling the incredible sensation of oneness that he always   felt when they embraced.

Part 8

It had taken Martha's startled cry of, "Clark! You're   bleeding!" to return him and Lois to awareness of their   surroundings and of the activity that was flowing around   the spot on the pond bank where they stood locked in a   tight embrace. Looking down at his arm, Clark realized that   not only was his mother correct, but that his arm hurt like   the devil. It hadn't taken too much persuasion on her part   for him to return to the house to get cleaned up, leaving   Rachel and her deputies to deal with the corpse that had   been Jason Trask and the other legal issues.

An hour later, Lois, Clark, Jimmy and the Kents were   sitting around the kitchen table in the comfortable old   farmhouse, nursing cups of coffee. Jimmy had been excitedly   regaling the others with the events he had photographed at   Wayne Irig's farm and less happily expressing his   disappointment that the signal watch hadn't managed to   alert Superman. Lois and Clark had exchanged wry glances at   the comment. Jimmy's signal had, in fact, reached Superman,   but there was no way they could ever let him know. Martha   was still anxiously trying to convince Clark that he should   go to bed to recover from what she persisted in calling his   "ordeal," but he was obdurately refusing to listen.

"Mom, I'm fine. Really," he added at the dubious look on   her face. "Besides, it's not that late. I promised Lois   she'd have fun at the Corn Festival before we ever left   Metropolis. I can't let her down, now can I?" He winked as   he grinned broadly at his mother.

"And you promised to 'tush-push' and 'two-step' with Rachel   at the dance," Lois reminded him with a self-satisfied   smirk. She had originally felt a pang of jealousy when   Rachel had asked for a dance the day before, but given that   the sheriff had saved Clark's life earlier in the day, Lois   decided to be magnanimous. He might give Rachel a dance,   but he'd be taking Lois behind the Dairy Freeze.

"Also true. Now, Mom, you cannot possibly expect me to   break promises to both of them, can you?" Clark's eyes   danced merrily behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

Martha grudgingly subsided. "All right. But don't complain   if you develop an infection in that arm," she reminded him.

Lois snorted in amusement as Clark confidently replied, "I   won't. Besides, it feels better already. It was just a   graze." A small frown tugged at the corners of his mouth.   "I really liked that shirt, though. And the tear is too   high up to cut off the sleeves and still wear it."

His partner patted his hand. "It's all right. I'm sure we   can find you another one just like it. Denim shirts aren't   really all that uncommon."

"I doubt it, Lois. I've had that shirt since college. It'll   take ten years to get a new one as soft." He looked   dismayed at the thought.

"We...ell," Lois began, "you could just not wear a shirt. I   wouldn't complain." She smiled impishly as Jimmy gave a   shout of laughter.

"I think she's got you on that one, CK," he teased. "So   what's this about a Corn Festival? And a dance?"

As Jonathan and Martha began to explain to the young   photographer about the treat in store for him, Lois and   Clark left the table and stepped out on the porch.

"Are you sure you feel well enough to go the Festival?"   Lois asked. "I'll understand if you want a quiet evening."   She searched his face for some sign that he was feeling   bad.

Clark shook his head. "I'm fine, really. My arm hurts a   little, but it's not that bad. And that is all that hurts.   My powers aren't back yet, but I do seem to be healing   pretty fast." He pulled her into his arms and held her   gently. "And I meant what I said in there. I really do want   to take you to the Festival and show you a good time."

She snuggled closer to him, mindful not to jar his left   arm. "Well, if you're sure. I just don't want you to have a   relapse or something." She gave a little giggle. "I know   it's not really funny, but you looked like a drowned rat   coming out of the pond. Did you know there was seaweed   hanging from your head?"

"Nope. But I'm not surprised."

"I'm so glad that you were able to fight him, even with   your powers gone."

He dropped a light kiss on her head. "I don't think I've   ever been so frightened in my life. Trask was completely   insane. Thank God, my powers were back long enough for me   to put out that fire. Can you imagine what it would have   been like if the barn had caught on fire?" He felt her   shudder at the thought. "And you would have been his next   target, if he hadn't been stopped."

"But he *was* stopped. So it's all right." She squeezed him   again.

"I guess." He sounded a little doubtful.

"What?" she asked gently.

"What what?"

"What's the matter? You don't sound very happy all of a   sudden for a man who just survived an attempt on his life."

He pulled away a bit to be able to look at her. "My powers   aren't back."

"So? They were gone for a good eighteen hours after last   night. I imagine that it will take that long again," she   reminded him. "And this time, you had to exert a lot of   energy in that fight. It's too soon to worry."

"I hope you're right. But what if Superman is needed before   they come back?"

Lois had to smile at his worried expression. "Think about   it. If your powers aren't back, you won't know that   Superman is needed. And I really don't think there are   likely to be any 'jobs for Superman' at the Corn Festival.   Do you?"

He hugged her tighter. "I guess not."

"Look at the bright side," she suggested. "Now you know two   things for sure. One, it's not your powers that make you a   hero. You proved that pretty convincingly today when you   beat Trask, a man who was bigger than you and trained in   combat."

Clark considered what she had just said. "I hadn't thought   of it that way. What's the other thing I know?"

"That I love you for yourself."

He gave her a sheepish look. "Did you really think I   wondered about that?"

"How could you not? But now you know for sure." She dimpled   up at him. "There are other things about you that are much   better than the superpowers."

"Like what?" he prodded.

"Like you're a fantastic kisser, and..." She paused to   watch the slow flush of embarrassment creep up his neck to   his face.

"And what?" Clark wasn't really sure he wanted to know, but   he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"And you look so cute when you're embarrassed."

Clark's laughter rang out. Gathering her close to him, he   said, "I love you, Lois Lane."

"And I love you, Clark Kent." She pulled away from his   embrace. "And now, if you will excuse me, I need to go get   ready to go to the Festival."

He stared at her, incredulous. "Lois, you look fine. Most   people there, including me, will be in jeans."

"I know. But I've been wearing these all day. I'll just be   a minute. Then we can go." She opened the door and headed   up the stairs to change.

******************** Clark, his parents, and Jimmy were   waiting at the foot of the stairs as Lois made her   appearance fifteen minutes later. Jimmy couldn't repress an   admiring whistle as she descended the stairs.

Her boyfriend was more direct. "What is *this*?" he asked   as his eyes widened at the sight of Lois in a clinging   maroon calico-print dress with a plunging v-neck. Her   cowboy boots clicked on the wooden stairs as she walked,   and a mostly unbuttoned long skirt showed tantalizing   glimpses of her legs above them. He could feel his pulse   beat faster at the sight. It was a good thing they were   going to be in a large crowd at the town square, or he   might not be able to keep his hands off her. "Lois, you   look fantastic. Is this what you were whispering to Mom   about earlier?"

She smiled almost shyly as she nodded and said, "Thanks.   I'm glad you like it."

Clark offered her his arm in escort to the car. "Ride with   my parents, all right?" he threw over his shoulder at   Jimmy. Maybe he and Lois would be a little late getting   back into town. There were some fairly long detours with   scenic parking spots along the way as he recalled. He   turned on the engine and slid the car into gear. They were   soon rolling down the gravel road to the main route to town   behind his parents' pickup truck.

"Don't even think it, Farmboy," she interrupted his line of   thought. "I know exactly what you're thinking, and it's not   gonna happen."

He choked back a laugh. "Oh really? Why don't you tell me,   then, if you're so smart?"

"You are thinking of taking the long way to town, probably   the one that goes by way of Wichita," she replied.

"Actually, I was thinking of Kansas City," he said with a   grin.

"Oh?" she raised an eyebrow.

"It's farther away," he solemnly informed her.

Lois giggled as she said, "And no stopping at the local   stream to watch the submarine races either."

"Lois, I'm hurt. We don't have those here in Smallville.   The stream isn't deep enough for submarines." His aggrieved   tone was at odds with the laughter in his gaze.

"Uh huh. Whatever. But no detours. Understand?" She gave   him a devilish look. "We can neck anytime. We can only eat   corndogs and cotton candy tonight."

"Ah, I see. You only love me for what I can give you."

"Yep. And I also expect you to win me a prize at a game,"   she told him. "One of those gigantic stuffed animals would   be good."

"Lo...is, that is not fair. Do you have any idea how hard   it is to win one of those?" He looked at her, a very   serious expression on his face. "You have to win about a   dozen smaller prizes and keep exchanging them for a bigger   one." His eyes widened, as if in awe. "It probably costs   twenty dollars to win one."

She swatted his right arm, glad that it wasn't his injured   arm that was within range. "Oh, you, you..."

"Wonderful guy?" he suggested.

Lois smiled at his sally. "Just drive, Kent. I want to   dance. And I certainly hope they play some slow ones too."   She looked dreamily at the horizon. "You know, I don't   think we've ever had a proper dance before."

"I can take care of that," he assured her. "And if they   don't play any slow dances, we can go into Maisie's diner   and play one on the jukebox."

"It's a deal." She settled back into the car seat and was   silent for the rest of the trip into town.

****************

The country band was playing loudly as the couple pulled   into a parking space right behind Martha, Jonathan, and   Jimmy. The decorations on the town square looked even more   festive with the lights on in the gathering dusk.

"Clark!" Rachel Harris hailed Clark from the area near the   dance floor. She had shed her sheriff's uniform and was   wearing jeans and a flowered blouse. She hurried over to   the group and gave Clark a hug. "I'm so glad you don't look   any worse," she told him. Then remembering the bond she had   noticed between Clark and Lois earlier in the day, she   released him and turned to the elder Kents. "And you two   look like you're feeling good too."

Martha gave Rachel a warm smile. "We're fine. What about   you?" She searched the younger woman's face.

"I'm all right, Martha. It was a bit of a shock at first,   to realize that I actually shot that man, but I know I had   no choice. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I'm just   glad that Clark is okay."

"Thanks for saving my son, Rachel." Martha smiled fondly at   her. "Is everything squared away?"

Rachel nodded. "Pretty much. Any time a law-enforcement   officer uses a weapon, he or she gets put on administrative   leave while someone, usually Internal Affairs, looks into   it to make sure the use of deadly force was justified. So I   get a few days vacation while the State Police conducts an   investigation. I should be back on the job before the end   of the week." She looked relieved as she related the news   to Martha.

Martha barely had time to reply, "That's good," when Clark   came up and asked Rachel to dance. The pair walked off to   the dance floor. Martha compared the sight of her son and   his high school friend to that of Clark and Lois and knew   he had made the right choice. Rachel was a lovely young   woman, but Lois was the one Clark really needed in his   life. Martha turned and went in search of her husband.   Perhaps he'd like to show the younger generation a thing or   two on the concept of line-dancing.

Waiting for the music to start, Clark looked down at his   old friend. "Rachel, I don't know how to thank you. You   saved my life. Probably my parents and Wayne's too. I think   Trask would have killed them all."

Rachel grinned at him. "Well, I did owe you one."

"You did? For what?" Clark was confused.

"For taking me to the prom. I know I wasn't the prettiest   girl in the class. You could have taken anybody. But you   took me."

"And we had a great time," he reminded her. "As to not   being the prettiest girl in the class--says who?" He   flashed a heart-stopping smile at her. "You looked pretty   to me. Still do, for that matter."

Rachel narrowed her eyes as she looked up at him. "Maybe.   But I think that Lois is more than just a work colleague.   Am I right?"

He couldn't lie to her. "Yeah. You're right. You always   were perceptive." He looked across the dance floor where   Lois and Jimmy were partnered. "Yeah, Lois is a lot more   than a work partner," he said softly.

"I'm glad, Clark. Be happy," she said a bit wistfully   before brightening once more. "Now let's show the city   slickers how to dance."

"You got it, Rach." He swung her into the movements of the   dance, a huge smile on his face.

******************

His dance with Rachel over, Clark took his place in the   line beside Lois. The band struck up the first chords of   the music, and the residents of Smallville began to do the   Electric Slide. To his amazement, Lois was dancing with the   best of them. A broad smile lit up her face as she threw   herself into the music.

"You actually know how to do this!" Clark exclaimed, his   facing showing his surprise.

Lois laughed happily. "Last year a girlfriend convinced me   it was a great way to meet guys," she explained.

"And was it?" he teased.

"Define guys," she laughed as they swung around in the next   direction of the dance. "I'm not sure if you realize this,   but a full set of teeth in a country-western dance club is   a rarity."

"So it's a good thing I've got all mine?" he asked, having   trouble holding back a laugh.

"Yes, it is. I only date guys with teeth, I'll have you   know." She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with   laughter. "And full heads of hair, too."

"I'll remember that if anyone ever approaches me about   becoming Mr. Clean," he swore.

The music ended, and they walked hand in hand from the   dance floor. "Time for some cotton candy?" he asked.

"You bet. And then you can win me that giant stuffed   animal." She smiled happily up at him. He finally seemed so   carefree. "You know, I don't know when I've ever seen you   quite so relaxed, so, oh, I don't know. So Clark," she   blurted out.

He grinned down at her upturned face as he wrapped an arm   around her shoulders. "That's who I am. Clark," he told   her.

He found her a giant cone of pink cotton candy, and then   allowed her to drag him back to the "Test Your Strength"   attraction.

"Win a prize for the little lady! Only one dollar!" the   barker called out.

"Okay, Clark," she said, her mouth full of cotton candy.   "Let's make this a day to remember." Lois fished in her   wallet for a dollar bill.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked. "You really think we   will forget today unless I win you a toy?"

"Yep, that's exactly what I think. Otherwise, it's just   another routine investigation for Lois and Clark." She   giggled at the shocked look on his face. A sudden thought   stopped her. "Is your arm in good enough shape for this?"   she asked.

At his exasperated nod, she said, "C'mon. Grab that   hammer," she commanded as she handed the dollar to the   barker.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. He wiped his hands on his jeans and   placed them on the hammer. A mighty swing made the ball   shoot up just a little short of the mark. Clark smiled   despite himself. He pulled a dollar from his hip pocket and   handed it to the carny. Another try and the ball shot up   even higher.

"Very close," Lois said as she handed a third dollar to the   barker. "One more try." She gave him a quick kiss on the   cheek for good luck.

Clark grabbed the sledgehammer with renewed determination.   He wound up, raised the hammer high, and gave it a powerful   hit. The ball shot straight up and rang the bell.

"Yes!" Lois cried excitedly. "I knew you could do it," she   said proudly.

Her boyfriend looked up at the top level that proclaimed,   "SUPERMAN!" He gave a short laugh.

The irony wasn't lost on Lois either, as the barker held   out two prizes for her to choose from. She looked from a   stuffed Superman figure to a cuddly black teddy bear. Clark   waited in suspense to see which she would choose. She   seemed to hesitate, as if having trouble deciding. Finally,   to Clark's great relief, she reached out and took the bear.   Snuggling it close, she beamed up at Clark. "Thank you, so   much."

As they moved away from the attraction, he mentioned, "You   looked like you had trouble deciding which prize to take."

"As a matter of fact, I did. I was thinking that the figure   could keep me company when you're not around."

"So you were going to pick the Superman doll?" he asked.

She nodded. "I thought about it. Then I realized that when   you're off being Superman, the person I miss is Clark. And   he's much more cuddly than Superman." She looked at him   with shining eyes. "So I took the teddy bear." She wrapped   her free arm around his waist and pulled him closer. "Shall   I call him 'Clarkie'?"

Clark squeezed her back as he said, "Don't you dare. Do you   have any idea how much I've always hated that name?"

"No, but I'll try to remember." She laughed again.

"Lo...is," he began.

She pulled him even closer. "C'mon, Clark. You still owe me   a slow dance."

"And I think I hear them playing one now," he said as he   moved back toward the dance floor where the strains of "My   Girl" could be heard.

As she swayed with him in time to the music, she could have   sworn she heard him say, "Now this is dancing."

*****************

Several hours later, Clark took Lois by the hand and   whispered, "There's something I want to show you."

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh? There is something we've missed   at the Corn Festival? I mean, we've seen the Husk Off, the   Corn Princess, the corndogs and the cotton candy. You won   me my bear, and we danced till my feet hurt in these cowboy   boots." She shook her head. "I can't think of a thing that   we've missed."

"Trust me, Lois. There is one thing that you have missed,   and I'd hate for you not to experience it before we go back   to Metropolis." He pulled her toward the car saying, "Trust   me, Lois. You'll enjoy it."

Laughing at the silly mood he was in, she went along with   his whim. Sliding into the passenger side of the car, she   kept on sliding until she was firmly seated in the middle   of the bench seat. "So where are we going?" she asked as he   put the car into reverse and backed out of the parking   place.

"You'll see," he said, a smug grin on his face.

A few short minutes later, Clark pulled the car into a   space behind the darkened shape of a small building.

Lois strained her eyes to see where they were. When she   finally figured out what the unlit sign said, she burst   into laughter. "Are you planning on giving me a hickey?"   she asked when she finally got control of herself, tears of   hilarity streaming down her face as she realized they were   behind the Dairy Freeze.

Clark's teeth gleamed in the darkness. "Would you like   one?" he asked, his voice seductive in the night. "I don't   think I've ever actually done that, but I'd be happy to   oblige you."

Lois seemed to ponder the question for a while before   replying, "Not really. I'd hate to listen to Jimmy all the   way back to Metropolis, wondering why I'd suddenly taken to   wearing turtleneck shirts." She turned to better see his   face. "I would like to spend some time alone with you,   though."

Her eyes shone with love. Threading her fingers into his   hair, she pulled his face down to meet hers. As he bent   forward, she could feel his soft breath on her lips and   smell his aftershave. It was something spicy. Knowing   Clark, it was Old Spice Aftershave. Whatever it was, he   smelled delicious she thought, as his lips moved gently   over hers. His right arm was around her shoulders, his hand   gently caressing her. He moved his left hand up to stroke   her silky hair. For long minutes they sat in the car behind   the Dairy Freeze, unable to tell where one of them left off   and the other began.

When they finally surfaced for air, Lois gently pushed a   stray lock of hair back from Clark's forehead. "You are so   beautiful," she marveled. "Like a painting or a statue."

"But I'm not, Lois. I'm just a pretty ordinary guy," he   reminded her.

"No, Clark. You're anything but ordinary. There cannot be   another man on this planet who kisses the way you do. You   could give lessons," she teased.

"Be happy to," he growled as he pulled her closer. "I'll   start right now." He placed his lips on hers and began to   teach.

The End.

Table of Contents

More than Partners, Part 2: A Greener Glow of Home

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8