Shades of Gray

By: C. Leuch <isuleuch@hotmail.com>

Rated: PG-13

Submitted: February 2002

This is an elseworld tale that came about after I asked the  question, "What if...?" The characters are not mine, but  the story is. WARNING: this story also contains a WHAM and  alludes to some violence.

Thanks to Missy, Adam, and Shayne for BR-ing and offering  support at various points along the line. Feedback is  always welcome. Hope you enjoy!

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Part 1

Sunlight filtered in through the heavily tinted windows of  the office, rare streams of light that only appeared in  late morning as the sun cleared the building across the  street, before it continued overhead and masked the office  in shadow once again. Even though those rays appeared for  only a few hours a day, they were the one thing that had  made this particular office, above all others that had been  available in the vast concrete jungle that was Metropolis,  attractive. The sunlight was a symbol, a sign from above  that even the bleakest of lives could have some brightness  in them, and that was comforting somehow.

The brunette woman who called that office her own leaned  back in the large leather chair she sat in, letting the  rays send light across her face. Her life was the kind that  had seen far too little sunshine, mired more in shadows and  darkness than anything else. A distant, bleak pain, a pain  that had been present almost as long as she could remember,  penetrated her whole being, and not even the invigorating  rays of the sun could drive that away. That pain had  consumed her, driven her, led her. In and of itself it was  almost soothing, a reminder of what she had in her life at  one point, a memory of the happy times. But those happy  times had only made the aftermath that much more bleak.

The warmth of the sun allowed her to relax momentarily, and  the memories, good and bad, before and after, began to  course through her mind. A part of her wanted to cry, but  the tears had dried up long before. The past was gone in  any case, and there was no use dwelling on it. All she had  now was the present, and the future that stretched out in  front of her. The future held so many opportunities, so  many chances to make things right with the world, to atone  for the past....

The ringing of the phone on her desk drew her out of her  trance. Her eyes popped open and darted across the  cluttered surface of her desk before finally finding the  phone. Her hand quickly reached out and picked up the  receiver before the phone had a chance to ring again.

"Lane here," she said curtly. The number of the direct line  to her office was known only to a few people, most of whom  she had no wish to speak to at the moment.

"Lois," came her sister's wary voice over the line. Lois  knew right away what a call from Lucy meant, and  immediately she felt her brows knit together as a look of  concern came over her face.

"Another one?" Lois asked, knowing the answer before it  even came.

A sigh was audible from her sister. "She just got in here,  and she's in pretty bad shape. You should probably come  down," Lucy said, the long-suffering tone in her voice not  lost on her sister.

Lois's eyes once again focused on the desk in front of her,  this time landing on the large pile of notes that sat in a  position of prominence at the center. "I have something to  take care of first, but then I'll come down," she replied,  hanging up the phone after hearing the grunt of approval  from her sister. Wasting no time, she reached under the  desk and pulled out a briefcase, unceremoniously shoving  the papers into it. She stood up, her petite form projected  onto the floor in shadow, the angle of the sun's rays  distorting her outline. The symbolism was ironic, but it  was not something to be dwelt upon at the moment. Without  another thought, she strode quickly across and out of the  office.

***

To the untrained eye, the newsroom of the Daily Planet was  a chaotic place. From the time the sun went up until long  after it went down again, people could be seen bustling  about - reporters en route to the next big scoop, visitors  with tales of woe that they hoped would make the pages of  the next edition, janitors, copy boys, all moving in random  paths throughout the newsroom. Those who weren't moving  around sat at desks of their own, slumped over a keyboard,  typing furiously. By and large the desks that dotted the  floor of the room were left unoccupied, but large cluttered  piles of paper that they all invariably contained spoke of  stories in progress, projects to be returned to in due  time. A certain energy fueled it all, a driving force that  seemed to emanate from the corner office belonging to Perry  White. From time to time the editor would stick his head  out of the office door and bark orders, sending the  newsroom into a renewed frenzy of activity.

Not everyone in the newsroom that morning was hard at work,  however. One young man, his hair a little too long, his  suit a size too large, leaned back in his chair, a distant  smile on his face as he observed the morning activity. It  was only his second full day of work at the Planet, and he  still couldn't shake a sense of giddiness at the thought  that he was really working at the newspaper that set the  standard for every other one in the world. The vibrancy of  the big city had brought him to Metropolis, and a  reputation for fairness had brought him to the Planet. He  didn't want to question his good fortune, but at the same  time he couldn't help but feel that at any second he would  wake up and find that it was all a dream. At least he could  enjoy it while he still had the opportunity, he thought as  he took a sip from his coffee mug, his eyes wandering  around the office.

Observation had always been a keen talent of his. It wasn't  that he was an introspective person, necessarily. It was  just a habit he had picked up all those years ago, when he  began to realize that he wasn't like everyone else. Afraid  to expose himself to others, he had simply faded into the  background, watching, observing. Eventually, his natural  sociability would get the best of him, and he would let his  guard down. Invariably he would do something that a normal  person had no business doing, and he would have to move on  before others linked the incredible feat to him. But now he  was in Metropolis, in the job of his dreams, and he wasn't  going to move on from here. There was just something about  Metropolis that felt different from the other places he had  been, something that compelled him to want to stay, no  matter what may come.

A slap on his back brought him out of his stupor, and his  head snapped around to get a look at who interrupted his  thoughts.

"You aren't going to last very long here if you keep  staring off into space, Kent."

"Hi, Ralph," Clark said, a twinge of annoyance in his  voice. Of all the people he had met at the Planet the day  before, Ralph had been the most obnoxious. He had  immediately latched on to Clark, trying to buddy up to him  while at the same time letting him know who was top banana  in the newsroom. Clark had taken it all in stride, not  questioning anything that was told to him, but his  sensitive ears told him that Ralph, who Clark quickly  figured out had only been employed at the Planet for a  month, was full of hot air.

Ralph shoved a donut in Clark's face. "Here. I thought you  might want this before you get started on your next  assignment, because boy are you going to need it."

Caught off guard, Clark blinked a few times, trying to  focus on the donut that was dangled a couple of inches in  front of him. Hesitantly, he brought his hand up and took  it, shooting a questioning glance at Ralph, who smiled and  pointed toward the conference room.

"She's not my problem anymore. You can have her."

"Her? Who...?" Clark craned his neck to try and see into  the room, but he couldn't. Ralph followed his gaze and  chuckled.

"Your worst nightmare."

Clark allowed himself a wry smile. Unless she was some sort  of government agent in a white lab coat, he seriously  doubted that whoever this person was could come even close  to being his worst nightmare. His curiosity had been  piqued, though.

"But who is she?" he asked, fighting the sudden urge to  pull down his glasses and x-ray into the room.

"Her nickname around here is 'Mad Dog Lane,' but don't let  her hear you say that," Ralph started as he leaned against  Clark's desk, his voice lower than it had been. "She's a  private detective. Whenever one of her clients makes her  mad, or even if they just want to air some dirty laundry,  she comes over here and talks to us. It's usually good  stuff, but she's the type that wants to look over your  shoulder when you write something to make sure that it  suits her. Can you image, a PI editing your copy?" Ralph  snorted. "It's a Planet tradition to pass her on to the new  guy, because none of the rest of us can stand her, so she's  all yours, and she's waiting in the conference room. Have a  blast."

Ralph gave Clark a quick pat on the shoulder before pushing  himself away from the desk and making his way across the  newsroom. Clark frowned. This woman - Mad Dog? - sounded  eerily like someone he had known back in Smallville. She  was not happy unless she had a hand in everything, and  nobody told her what to do. It was her way or no way at  all. Underneath the exterior, she had been a good person,  though, and she had been one of the few close friends he  had had through his adolescent years. For some reason that  he couldn't comprehend, she saw something in him that  nobody else had, something that compelled her to share her  inner self with him in exchange. But he never told her his  deepest thought and secrets, about the extraordinary things  he could do. He had felt guilty at not being able to give  her the same level of confidence that she had given him,  and after a while they drifted apart.

Clark had to blink to bring himself back to reality. As  brusque as Lana tended to be with people, nobody had ever  referred to her as 'Mad Dog.' He had certainly met many  people over the years that could qualify for that title,  and by and large he had been able to handle them just fine,  although it was never particularly pleasant.

He glanced at his editor's office, wondering what Perry's  take on the woman was. Given the fact that half of what  came out of Ralph's mouth so far had not been firmly  grounded in truth, Clark wondered exactly what the  situation was. He was hesitant to take an assignment based  on nobody's word but Ralph's, but on the other hand, it  wasn't as if he had anything better to do. A story was a  story, even if it came with a potentially irritating  source.

As he rose out of his chair, he remembered the doughnut  that was still in his hand. He looked at it quizzically for  a moment, turning it sideways before finally setting it  beside his coffee cup on his desk. Maybe Ralph wasn't all  bad, he thought as he made up his mind to indulge in the  treat as soon as his interview was over. Grabbing a pen and  legal pad, he made his way toward the conference room.

He took a deep breath, telling himself again that what  Ralph had said about her was probably exaggerated, before  pulling open the door to the conference room. A brunette  woman stood on the other side of the room, staring intently  out the window. She looked innocent enough, he thought as  he cleared his throat, causing her flinch ever so slightly.

"Hi, my name is Clark Kent. I assume you're...Miss Lane?"  He said, adding a note of confidence to his voice.

She stood up straighter and turned to face him. As soon as  he caught sight of her, he felt the muscles in his jaw  begin to go limp. Time seemed to slow down as he watched  her shoulder-length hair swing and bob at the turn of her  head. The woman that stood in front of him was the most  striking person that he had ever seen, although if someone  had asked him, he wouldn't have been able to tell them why.  He had seen many people similar to her in his travels -  similar build, similar hair, similar features. But there  was something about her, maybe something in her eyes, that  just made him feel like he had never felt before. Something  about her made him want to drop everything and hold her  tight, draw her close and never let her go....

"So you're the new guy around here, huh? I don't think I've  seen you before. So what did you do to get stuck with me? I  bet you stole some other reporter's story or something. Or  maybe you're just too new to know what you got yourself  into. How long have you been here, anyway?" She said  rapidly as she made her way toward the conference table in  the middle of the room.

Her words brought reality back to him quickly. He tried to  respond to her, but no words came out of his mouth, and his  mind drew a blank. He smiled at her for a moment while he  let his thoughts gather, watching as she became suddenly  flustered.

"This is my second day, you're right about that. And I'm  sure I have no idea what I've gotten myself into," he said,  the smile still firmly planted on his face. Something in  the back of his mind tried to break through, a warning that  perhaps the flirtatious tone that he had taken on was not  exactly the best to be using with a source.

Her eyes grew wide and her cheeks flushed. She diverted her  eyes away from him, bringing them to rest on the briefcase  that was sitting in front of her on the table. Her hand  came up to brush a strand of hair away from her face, and  for a moment Clark felt like he was going to melt into a  pile of mush on the floor right there.

She took a deep breath and looked at him again, her  composure back. "I'm rarely wrong about things, Mr. Kent.  My job is to look beyond the external, to find out the  truth about people." She motioned to her briefcase. "And  I'm going to hand you the biggest story of your fledgling  career, that is if you would like to sit down and get some  actual work done." With that, she sat down and opened the  briefcase.

The engaging woman that he had seen just moments before had  been replaced with the more serious one in front of him.  The tone in her voice had been almost cold, and he could  see why Ralph could think what he did about her. But those  eyes, those deep, expressive, brown eyes still held the  hint of something else. The conference room of the Daily  Planet was no place to pursue any budding feelings,  however, especially when they had met literally seconds  earlier. Taking his cue from her, he dropped his teasing  smile and approached the table, giving her his undivided  attention.

***

As Lois exited the Daily Planet through its trademark  revolving door, she welcomed the openness of the outside.  Never had a room felt so close as that conference room had  just moments before. It wasn't that it had been crowded,  necessarily - it had just been her and that greenhorn  reporter, alone in the fairly large space, the ceiling  rising far above them. But even so, she had found it hard  to catch her breath. Her heart still pounded hard in her  chest, even as she tried to tell herself to calm down.

Before today, the Planet had always just been a place she  went as part of her job, a job that she did better than  probably anyone else in the city. She knew she was  demanding, and she tended to be abrasive with the reporters  that she gave stories to, usually through no fault of their  own. There had been a time, before, that she had wanted  nothing more than to be a reporter herself. The excitement  of chasing down a lead, of peering into the dark shadows of  men's souls and finding the truth that laid within, and  then putting into print for the whole world to see held a  great deal of excitement in her mind. But somewhere along  the line, the idea of drawing any more attention to herself  than was absolutely necessary became repellent. The plans  she had laid, after, had demanded that she be  inconspicuous, so she chose instead to be a private  investigator. She still could find out those dark secrets,  but her name would not be associated with them. A part of  still had an affinity for the newspaper business, and  that's what had compelled her to use the Daily Planet, the  most respected of all newspapers, as the recipient of her  exclusives. But she suspected that that same part of her  held some resentment for reporters, and that was what  caused her to treat them so badly. At least, up until now.

She was used to the revolving door of new reporters that  the Planet threw at her, but today she had met someone new,  and something happened. The earth could've shook, lightning  could've come down from the sky and struck her, but she  still wouldn't have been able to draw her eyes away from  his. On the outside, he looked for all the world like a kid  dressed up to play reporter. His entire demeanor oozed  innocence, but when he spoke, his voice, with its teasing  quality, was one of someone who was not an innocent at all.  As she had given him her story, he had taken notes  dutifully, and had asked just the right questions in just  the right places, betraying a keen intelligence beneath his  boyish good looks. She hadn't known what to make of her  feelings toward him - she had never felt anything like it  before - but she had her suspicions about what it might be,  and it scared her. She had tried to hide her attraction  toward him and retreat to the professional demeanor that  she had always been able to fall behind in the past, no  matter what her emotional state. But she knew it hadn't  been entirely successful, and she could see the desire  reflected in his expressive eyes.

The meeting had gone surprisingly smoothly, nonetheless. He  had been as professional as she, and she just assumed that  once they parted company, that would be the last time they  saw each other. She would leave, he would write up the  story, and the next time she arrived at the Planet, she  would be passed along to the next new reporter. She tried  to tell herself that that would be the best course, that  her activities wouldn't allow her to get close to a man,  but that didn't stop a part of her from being disappointed  at the thought. But then, as she had her hand on the door  of the conference room ready to leave, she heard him speak  her name.

"Miss Lane," he had said, ever polite. She had closed her  eyes, realizing that she had never actually told him her  name. Somehow, having him call her 'Miss Lane' just didn't  seem right.

"Lois. My name is Lois," she had said as she opened her  eyes again and turned to face him.

"Lois," he had repeated softly, a stunning smile spreading  across his face. She could feel his eyes boring into her, a  thought that she knew should've made her uncomfortable, but  which had instead made her feel...special somehow.

"I was wondering if you would like to go to lunch," he  said, his face taking on a wistful quality. He seemed to  become aware of himself after a moment, and his expression  quickly flashed until he once again appeared to be the  consummate professional. "To, ah, discuss the story," he  finished.

"Yes," she heard herself say even before she had a chance  to process his words. Would she like to go to lunch? Was he  asking her on a date? Sure, he had amended his question to  make it sound like a business proposition, but they both  knew what it would be. She felt almost giddy at the  thought, but then she remembered the phone call by her  sister earlier that morning. "I mean, yes, I would," she  started, pausing to catch her breath. Why did she feel so  lightheaded when she looked at him? "But not today. I have  some business to take care of."

His whole demeanor seemed to change with her words. His  head dropped, and suddenly it was as if the linoleum on the  floor was the most interesting thing in the world. His  overly large sports coat slipped to the side, off his now  slumped shoulders. Her eyes had grown large as she realized  what her words must've sounded like to him.

"Tomorrow. Let's go tomorrow. Maybe by then you'll have an  actual story written to discuss," she said, resorting to  some mild teasing. That had restored his spirit. He nodded  mutely in agreement, his smile once again present, as she  told him the time and place before leaving. Even though she  didn't look back at him once on her way out of the  newsroom, she had known somehow that he was watching her,  and it hadn't bothered her at all.

So, she thought as she looked up toward the open sky, it  was a date. How long had it been since she had her last  date, she wondered as she started walking toward her  sister's office. It was probably college. She had turned  away her fair share of men in the meantime, not interested  in so much as the thought of dating. Her sister had teased  her about it, but Lucy, more than anyone else, understood  her reasoning for it. Lucy understood her motivations for  almost everything in life; she had been her anchor.

Reluctantly, Lois's thoughts came back to the reasons why  she was heading over to see her sister in the first place.  As the smiling face of her friend at the Planet faded into  the background, she felt her chest tighten up and a  familiar heaviness return to her being. She stopped  abruptly as the full force of her burden returned to her.  The same feeling of pain that she had lived with for so  long, the same pain that the rays of the sun or the melodic  strains of even her favorite song hadn't been able to  dispel for years had left, she realized. Dissolved in an  instant by the devastating smile of Clark Kent, reporter.

She staggered toward the nearest building and leaned  against the wall, contemplating what that revelation meant  to her way of life, to her sister, to the plans they had  made, after. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath,  clutching her hands to her chest, looking to her heart to  guide her as it always had. The pain was what drove her  every day. If that were to leave on a permanent basis,  banished by her love for a man, what would be left for her?  She had wanted to accomplish so much, but had barely even  started along the path she had chosen. At the same time,  however, the freedom that she had just felt during its  absence had been incredible. She willed her mind to summon  Clark's face, and as it did, the weight of the world begin  to lift again. She felt several long abandoned facial  muscles begin to pull her lips up into a smile as thought  of their lunch date the next day surfaced. She didn't  really know him at all, yet he had this effect on her for  some reason that she couldn't comprehend.

His face rematerialized in her field of vision, but as she  mentally reached out toward him, it was replaced with that  of her father, and instantly the smile faded from her face.  Her eyes popped open and she frowned as she saw that the  sun had slid behind a dark cloud, casting the street into  shadow. Irony reared its ugly head again, she thought as  she stood up straight and started to walk toward the  street. She raised her hand to hail a cab, no longer  feeling energetic enough to walk toward her new  destination.

The ride seemed interminably long, her mind thrown into a  state of confusion. A million thoughts floated around in  her head, warring with each other. Each was significant in  some way, but none was able to fully capture her attention.  On any other day, she would expertly turn her concentration  on sorting out the thoughts, answering each in turn, and  making sure that everything fit into her carefully plotted  out future. Control, of her thoughts, of her actions, of  everything, was her way of life, since, and it would have  to remain so. But...what if she didn't want to control  everything anymore? What if she just wanted to step aside  and let her inhibitions go for once?

That thought got pushed to the back of her mind as the cab  pulled up to an unassuming brownstone in the once  fashionable Garden District. The townhouses that lined the  street were all very similar in a way, but they had subtle  differences, slight ornamentation and a stateliness to them  that set them apart from those in other areas of the city.  So many in the endless line of houses cried out for a  little attention, just enough to wash away the grime  accumulated in the century since their erection, and let  some of the dignified beauty shine though. A few had  received care, and they stood out like polished jewels  among the rest.

Lois paid the cabbie and climbed out of the car, heading  straight for the door of the nearest brownstone. It was a  little shabbier than the rest, the paint peeling away from  the window frames and the brick crumbling ever so slightly  around the edges. The sign that hung over the door, though,  was in pristine shape, its perfect blue lettering  announcing to the world that the house belonged to the Lost  and Found Agency.

Lois supposed that most who knew her would not consider her  to be a compassionate person, and indeed, her actions  tended to say just that. But the Lost and Found Agency had  been her gift to the city. Financed largely with her own  money, the agency helped those who had lost their families,  giving them a place to stay if they needed it, a comforting  ear to voice their problems to, and, most importantly, an  ally in the search for truth. It was the type of place that  she desperately wished had existed for her and her sister  to go to, after. If she had had a place like this to come  to, a shoulder to cry on and tell her that everything was  going to be all right, maybe her life wouldn't have been  consumed with the quest to bring down the man who had  ruined the lives of her and her sister.

Of course, the agency also served as her primary source of  information about the activities of that man. He had killed  her parents, and she had known ever since the night they  died that he would continue to kill those who got in his  path. A part of her had hoped that wouldn't be true, but  throughout the years she had found that it had been. She  couldn't count anymore the number of families that had come  through the door, families who no longer had a mother or  father or child because of one man's quest for power. It  broke her heart, but at the same time hardened her resolve,  her desire to make sure that it didn't happen again.

Her sister Lucy manned the facility, even though there was  no personal gain for her in doing so. Lois might have been  the inwardly compassionate type, but Lucy had always been  better with people. She also had a keen intellect, as well  as the same well-developed sense of vengeance as her  sister. For that she had put her education on hold, taken a  variety of part time jobs that were well beneath her  ability, and ran the agency. Lois didn't know what she  could possibly do without her sister - she had been her  rock, her confidant, her best friend and partner in all  senses of the world. And now Lucy had found another kindred  soul, their family wrenched away from them by the same man  that had taken theirs, too.

Lois pulled open the door and entered the parlor of the  mid-sized townhouse and stopped. A woman sat on the couch,  her shoulder length blonde hair a tangled mess and her face  red and tear-streaked, locked in the embrace of Lucy Lane.  The familiar sound of long-practiced words of comfort  reached Lois's ears, and she cleared her throat slightly to  announce her presence. She had seen too many scenes like  this, all eerily similar, but each equally powerful. It  never failed to wrench her heart, seeing the tearful souls  who came to her agency for refuge. A small part of her  relived her own experience every time she saw someone new.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, she  slowly made her way toward her sister and the blonde  stranger, who hadn't even seemed to register her presence  yet.

"Hi, my name is Lois Lane," Lois said gently as she sat  down on the edge of the couch. She tried to meet the  woman's eyes, and after a moment was able to.

"Angel Harris," the blond replied with a sniff as she  released Lucy.

"My sister is a detective, and would like very much to help  you find the person that did this," Lucy said, her hand  lingering on Angel's shoulder. The shadow of anxiety that  had clouded over Angel's face seemed to lift at the  lingering touch, and she nodded. Lois didn't know how her  sister could have such a positive effect on others. They  came from the same place, but somehow had managed to be  complete opposites in their relations with others.

"Tell me everything," Lois said, her compassionate  expression genuine.

"Well," Angel started, as she brought a hand across her  eyes to wipe away the remaining tears. "My husband Ron was  a top scientist at Lexlabs. In fact, he had recently gotten  the attention of Mr. Luthor himself, who had asked him to  work on some sort of special project for him. Then Ron just  disappeared."

It was a tale that Lois had heard over and over again.  Change the profession, change the name, but the story was  the same. It was her story, too, she thought grimly. A new  task began to present itself to her as she sat back and  listened to the remainder of the tale.

***

The Lexlabs biomedical engineering division was housed in a  quiet office building in the Metropolis Riverfront  Commercial District. It was an area of town that bustled  with life during the normal business day, but as the sun  went down, the workers retreated to their suburban homes  and the once busy neighborhood became a virtual ghost town.  Transients came and went under the cover of darkness, often  choosing to make their beds in the well-kept alleys,  unnoticed by even the most sophisticated security systems,  which were much more interested in keeping the interiors  safe. The sparking whiteness of the buildings, their  interiors safe and pristine, contrasted with the dark gloom  that existed around them.

A figure in black made its way through the empty streets,  ducking in and out of the long shadows, ignored by local  vagrants who didn't pay much attention to anyone who wasn't  wearing a badge. The dark coat the figure wore had been  carefully chosen for its generic qualities, but the way the  tightened belt made it cling to the figure's waist gave  away a very feminine form. An oversized black hood covered  the figure's head, drooping down and obscuring her features  from even the closest observer.

The woman in black made her way to the Lexlabs building and  slipped into the side alley, mentally reviewing the  building's security schematics. Upon reaching an access  door, her gloved hand drew an instrument out of her coat  and waved it at the keypad immediately next to the door.  After a few short moments, a small green light blinked on  the keypad display, and the door popped open without  ceremony. The mysterious women disappeared into the  building for several minutes before exiting again out into  the night. She closed the door firmly behind her before  heading back down the street, hopping from shadow to  shadow.

As her form drew further away, the Lexlabs building  exploded in a large ball of fire. The blaze engulfed the  structure, casting an orange light on the neighborhood, its  flames licking the dark sky in hypnotic rhythm. Only a  minute passed before another figure in black, this one  unquestionably masculine, swooped down from the sky. A  quick exhale of cooled air squelched the flames, and the  man shot back up into the heavens, his figure masked  against the dark sky. Those who had assembled around the  burning building, the dregs of society who were all but  invisible to the average citizen of Metropolis, mumbled in  shock as they tried to comprehend what had just happened.  Some spoke of an angel who came from the sky, others told  of a miracle. Their mumbled words did not escape the ears  of the woman in black, who drew back her hood in surprise  as she directed her gaze toward the now charred remains of  the once proud office. Angel or not, thought the woman,  whose shoulder length brunette hair now poked out from  around the edges of the hood, her job had been  accomplished. Drawing her hood back up around her head, she  let herself smile for the second time that day as she  walked down the street, away from the former lab, toward  home.

***

Clark closed his eyes and shot further and further up into  the sky, feeling the air begin to become cooler and thinner  around him as he climbed even higher. He made himself stop  after a few moments, knowing that he was far enough above  the earth to be safe from his demons. Taking a deep breath,  he opened his eyes, and was surprised to see how small  Metropolis looked beneath him. It wasn't the first time  that he had viewed it from this particular vantage point,  but having lived there for a few days, his view of it  changed somehow. The lights stretched out along the  numerous roads that crisscrossed the city looked like a  great, shining spider web silhouetted against the dark  surroundings. The beauty of the sight was almost  overwhelming, just as much so now as it had been the first  time that he had seen it. But he knew now that beneath it  all were stories, faces, lives, all intertwined in a  glorious soap opera. Floating in the air above it,  observing the spectacle that was Metropolis, made him feel  calm, almost at peace.

Clark held up his left hand and watched it tremble  slightly. Well, maybe it hadn't calmed him as much as he  had thought. He closed his eyes again and tried to gather  his thoughts. He had been on his way to his parents' house  for dinner when he heard the explosion. He wasn't very  familiar with the city yet, but a quick scan of the area  where the explosion had occurred told him that it was a  significant commercial area. If the fire were to get out of  hand, millions of dollars in equipment and goods could've  gone up in smoke, leaving thousands of people without jobs.  It wasn't exactly a life or death situation, at least not  yet, but he couldn't just let the fire burn when he had the  ability to stop it.

He hadn't bothered to think of the consequences of his  actions before making his move, and hadn't even looked to  see if there would be any possible onlookers around. He had  just assumed the area was deserted, and had flown down to  put out the fire. It was as the flames were finally being  squelched that he had heard the excited murmurs. Dirty  faces were illuminated by the dying embers, many more than  he would've ever expected to be there, all looking at him  with an unrestrained sense of curiosity. In his panic he  had fled. The exhilaration of being able to use his  abilities to help had quickly been replaced with the raw  fear of discovery. What if those people told others about  his existence? He had never actually used his powers in  front of others before, but now....

The thought made Clark's eyes pop open, and he immediately  saw that his hand was shaking even more violently that  before. He sighed and lowered it to his side. The idea that  one careless action on his part could end his private life  as he knew it tended to have that effect. Maybe what he  needed at that moment was to go home and have a good, home  cooked supper, and enjoy his anonymity while he still  could.

With that, he shot across the sky, heading westward toward  the golden plains of Kansas. The miles passed by in the  darkness below him, interrupted by the occasional glare  from a town. As he continued over the Midwestern states,  regular dots of lights from small farmsteads spread out in  his vision, but he found that he wasn't really paying  attention to the hypnotic pattern they created.  Inexplicably, the face of Lois Lane, private detective, had  worked its way into his field of vision. The brief time  that he had spent with her had been a taste of heaven, and  more than once during the course of the interview he had to  tell himself not to get lost in her voice. Only time would  tell whether their acquaintance would turn into a  relationship, but unfortunately his time was now running  short. Images of the Daily Planet, his place of employment  for only two days, yet the one place that he had wanted to  spend the remainder of his career at, also worked their way  into his consciousness. He had told himself just that  morning that he wouldn't run. Of course, that was before he  had put out a fire in front of witnesses. But, he thought  as he balled his hands into fists, he didn't want to run.  He didn't want to leave the job he loved and the woman that  he felt a strong kinship toward. There HAD to be a way to  stay.

Maybe his parents would be able to help him think of a  plan, he thought as he spotted their farm on the horizon.  Applying a burst of speed, he quickly made his way there  and landed in the yard beside the house.

The pleasant aromas of freshly cooked food were the first  things to greet him as he opened the door. There was  something about walking into the warmth of his mother's  kitchen and the meal that invariably awaited him there that  had always comforted him. Home was a place of safety for  him, the place where he could find the only two people in  the world with whom he could truly talk to about anything.  No matter what events happened in his life, they always let  him know that everything was going to be okay, and gave him  that bit of support and confidence that allowed him to go  back out and face the world again.

He would need that boost of confidence now more than ever,  he though grimly. He let the screen door close behind him  with a slight thud, and immediately he heard his mother's  voice call out his name.

"Hey, Mom. I'll be right in," he said as he leaned down to  take off his shoes. When he stood up again, she was  standing in the kitchen doorway, looking anxiously at him.  Despite his sour mood, he felt a smile creep across his  face.

"Welcome home, honey," she said as she opened her arms  slightly. He strode across the kitchen and embraced her,  finally feeling his anxiety begin to ease.

"Supper smells great," he said as he pulled away from her.

"It's more than I get these days," Clark heard his father  grumble from the living room. With one arm still around his  mother, Clark craned his neck to get a better view into the  room.

"Hi, Dad," Clark said, a small smile beginning to play  across his face. The more things changed, he mused, the  more they stayed the same. Many was an evening during his  childhood that he would come home to a scene similar to  this. The fact that he could step back into the same world  and the same experiences, even after so many years of being  out on his own, made it almost seem as if he never left.

Jonathan's gruff tone disappeared as a small grin appeared  on his face. "Hi son," he replied. "Good to see you again."

"So how is Metropolis?" his mother asked as she ushered him  toward the kitchen table. Clark felt his smile falter as  the thoughts of his experience that night began to return.  Was there an easy way to broach the subject, he wondered?  He wanted so badly to tell them what had happened, but at  the same time, he wanted to take sanctuary in the pure  normalcy of being there, at home. And, he knew, a part of  him hoped that if he ignored it long enough, it would just  go away.

"What's bothering you, honey?" his mom asked as he sank  into the chair. He saw his father shoot a questioning  glance as he entered the kitchen and make his way over to  the table. Clark looked up at her, momentarily surprised at  the ease with which she seemed to read his thoughts. But  the shock faded as he realized that he had never been able  to hide anything from her. She could read him like a book,  they both could. It was part of what made them such a  close-knit family.

Clark sighed and looked back and forth between his parents.  The smell of the meal lingered in the background, and his  stomach longed to dig in. But he knew that nothing would  happen until he let them know about the fire. "Something  happened tonight," he started. Lowering his gaze to his  empty plate, he continued. "On my way home I saw a fire in  a commercial district in Metropolis. I couldn't just let it  go, so I put it out. I wasn't thinking, I didn't look....  People saw me."

He could see his parents' mouths draw into straight lines.  Every time it was something similar - a fire put out, a  tourist saved, a natural disaster averted. He just couldn't  help himself. He knew it was hard on them, his constant  running, but he didn't know what else to do. No matter what  the circumstances, though, they would always offer their  unconditional support, even if they didn't necessarily  agree with what he was doing. It used to be that his father  would offer dire warnings of laboratories and military men  coming for him after pulling one of his "stunts", but Clark  hadn't heard those in several years. It was unnecessary; he  knew the consequences. He sometimes wondered if his parents  didn't partially blame themselves for the constant  upheavals, for his apparent paranoia about being caught. He  could see it in their taut expressions, even now, and he  tried to offer a reassuring smile to them.

"I don't want to move this time," Clark said, eliciting  somewhat startled expressions from each of them. "I don't  know what it is about Metropolis, but..." he sighed and  leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and fixing  his parents with an intent gaze.

"I can't explain it, but somehow I feel like my destiny is  there," he said quietly. He dropped his eyes again as he  let all the emotions he had felt during the flight over  course through him. "I just can't go. There has to be a way  to stay, just this once."

After a moment, he felt his mother's hand touch his arm,  and he looked at her. Her expression was soft, and she gave  him a small grin as their eyes met. "We'll think of  something," she said as she gave his arm a slight squeeze.  Clark shifted his gaze to his father, and he could see him  give a small nod.

Clark smiled and finally allowed himself to relax. His  problem wasn't solved yet, but with the support of his  parents, he was sure to find a way, somehow. With that, his  mother set the food on the table, and they began to eat.  The topic of conversation shifted to the more mundane, and  all traces of their earlier conversation seemed to  disappear.

As supper finished up, Clark helped his mother with the  dishes before wandering outside. His dad was sitting in the  large swing on the porch, staring upward. Clark sat down  next to him and followed his gaze, drinking in the sight of  the stars shining in the endless sky, a reminder of how  insignificant they ultimately were compared to the  immensity of the universe.

"I forget how beautiful the night sky is out here," Clark  said, his voice somewhat wistful. Every corner of the earth  offered a unique view of the heavens. Each was spectacular  in its own right, but in the end, there was something about  the sight of the stars from the farm where he grew up,  where he had learned about the constellations, where he had  learned about his heritage, that moved him. "In Metropolis,  the only stars you can see are riding around in limos."

Jonathan let out a small grunt. "You're the one who wanted  the rat race," he said.

Clark smiled at the comment. It was just the type of  statement that he would expect from his father. Jonathan  Kent was born and raised in the country, and only a true  force of nature would ever cause him to leave the land that  he loved so much. He just didn't belong in the city. The  gentle pace at which life in the country moved suited him  in every way. Clark could understand that, but had always  felt that he himself was destined to move on to something  bigger and better. He loved waking up to nothing but the  sound of the wind blowing through the brush outside, and he  loved going to sleep under the clear blanket of stars.  There was nothing in the world like standing in the  serenity of a field of sweet-smelling wheat, gazing up at  the clouds as they floated in the sky, left alone to your  thoughts. It was calming, comforting, but it just wasn't  what Clark needed. He needed the vibrancy of city. An  infinite number of lives experienced an infinite number of  events, and each held a story to be told. They all moved  him and inspired him in their own way, and he had never  felt so alive as he had in his two short days in  Metropolis.

"I did. I do." Clark paused for a moment and looked over at  his father. "I want to finally settle there, but...." he  sighed as his father sent a curious glance his way. Running  his hand through his hair, Clark turned back toward the sky  and continued. "Being able to put out that fire tonight was  exhilarating. To think that I was able to save those  businesses, possibly to save the lives of those  people...it's the best feeling in the world, helping people  like that."

Clark pushed with his feet and the swing began to rock back  and forth ever so slightly. "I wonder sometimes why I was  given the abilities that I have. I used to think that it  was a curse, and lord knows that my life has been chaotic  because of them. But there's so much beauty in the world,  and I've seen a lot of things that nobody else on Earth has  ever seen. There are so many things that I could never have  done without my abilities, but even so, I doubted their  purpose, until tonight. I can help out, Dad. I can use what  I have to make the world a better place. I want to do that,  but I don't want to lose myself and my privacy because of  that."

Frustration welled up inside him as he began to  subconsciously pick at the peeling paint on the swing. His  father remained oddly silent for a few moments, and Clark  finally turned toward him. Jonathan was looking into the  sky, a curious expression on his face.

"Dad?" Clark asked. His father wasn't generally an  introspective person, but when he did take the time to sit  back and devise a plan, it was usually brilliant. Clark  felt a glimmer of hope well up inside himself as he waited  for his father to answer.

"Remember those stories I used to read to you when you were  a boy? They were from old comic books that I had collected  when I was a young man. Stories of men who would fight  crime, superheroes, some of whom even had powers, much like  yours. They put on fantastic disguises to hide their real  identities from the world."

"I remember," Clark said slowly, old memories of brightly  colored books seeping into his mind.

Jonathan continued, a corner of his mouth curving upward  and his voice far off. "They would go on some of the best  adventures, fighting criminals and saving lives. I used to  wonder what it would be like to do what they did. But then  I grew up, and saw the stories for the fiction that they  were." Jonathan took a deep breath and sat up a little  straighter, turning his focus to Clark.

"Even so, I wonder if something like that might just work  for you."

Clark let himself consider the possibility for a moment. It  would certainly allow him to do everything that he wanted  to do, but his father was right. He would basing his  existence on comic book stories, for goodness sakes. "I  don't know, Dad. People aren't going to be gullible enough  to not see past the costume."

Jonathan's eyes twinkled, and he gave Clark a smile before  continuing. "I think you'd be surprised," he said. "All it  would take would be a little acting. You did a few plays in  high school, as I recall."

Clark nodded. He had indeed, although he was no actor. For  one, he was a terrible liar, and he knew it. Putting on a  disguise, pretending to be someone he truly wasn't...that  was a lie if he ever heard one. He just didn't know if he  could pull it off.

"Besides, who would believe that someone who can do what  you can do would be walking among us, living a normal  life?" Jonathan continued to smile at Clark, and as the  possibilities began to become clearer, Clark began to smile  himself. A secret identity...it was very tempting. It would  allow him to do what he was capable of, so long as nobody  found out.

Clark leaned back and silence descended upon them as they  rocked back and forth for a few minutes. As a hundred  thoughts shot though his head, a single shooting star  streaked across the sky above them. The heavenly sign  seemed to sweep all his fears away.

"I think you're right." Clark looked over his shoulder into  the kitchen. As much as he wanted to do what his dad was  suggesting, he needed his mother's help. "I don't want to  rush into anything, though. Give me a day to think this  over. I can come back tomorrow night, that is if Mom is  willing to help make something up for me."

Jonathan patted Clark on the knee before bringing the swing  to a stop. "That's something you can ask her yourself. But  let me tell you, if it means two fresh cooked dinners in a  row, then I'm all for it."

Clark chuckled and stood up alongside his father. "Thanks  for helping me, Dad."

"It was my pleasure. Come on, let's go get some dessert."

The two entered the house, each eyeing the apple pie that  sat on the stove. Clark didn't need a day to think, not  really. He was very excited at the prospect of taking on  another identity, especially if it meant that he could use  his powers freely. The night that had started out so  bleakly was coming together nicely. And tomorrow could only  get better. After all, he did have a lunch date with Lois  Lane.

***

Part 2

Lois sat at the table of an outdoor caf‚, her hands  subconsciously fiddling with the business card of Clark  Kent. Around her, couples chatted together, oblivious to  the rest of the world. She could see the adoration in their  eyes when they looked at each other, and a part of her  longed to see someone give her that look, if only once.  But, she reminded herself, such desires were selfish at  best, especially for someone in her position. There were  greater things in the world than love, and the path that  her life had taken destined her to be alone.

She wondered why she had even bothered to come. As she had  a chance to fall back into her old routine the previous  day, she had felt a renewed sense of purpose. The feelings  that had been dredged up upon meeting with Clark Kent  seemed so far away, that she wondered if she had even  experienced them at all. She probably would've dismissed  them outright if it were not for the flutter that her heart  felt upon even thinking his name. Even so, she knew  academically that they couldn't get involved. The missions  she embarked on upon the darkness of night were known only  by her sister, and in a deep recess of her mind, she feared  what would happen if anyone else found out about them. They  would be frowned upon by anyone with any sense of values,  someone like Clark. He wouldn't want to be involved with  anyone like her, not someone as innocent as he was. She  couldn't stand the thought that if they somehow got  together, she would end up corrupting him. Or even worse,  they would form a commitment to each other, then he would  find out about her activities and reject her. She had known  loss in her life, but she didn't think that she could  handle another one. When she gave her heart to someone, she  wanted it to be a guaranteed relationship for life. So  today's lunch would be business, purely platonic, and she  would let him know not to expect anything more from her.  Yes, she thought as she looked as his card again, if  circumstances had been different, then maybe.... But she  couldn't change what had happened to her all those years  ago.

Her eyes were diverted to the day's edition of the Daily  Planet, which lay on the red and white checkered tablecloth  in front of her. "Messenger Disaster," the bold headline  screamed. The horrific picture of the aftermath of the  space shuttle fire accompanied the article, which covered  the whole front page. On its own, what happened to the  shuttle was a tragedy, but a small article buried in the  society pages gave the story a deeper, more ominous  dimension. While the shuttle sat burning at Cape Canaveral,  Lex Luthor hosted a charity ball, attended by the crŠme of  Metropolis society, and announced his plans for "Space  Station Luthor." His vision was framed as a generous offer  to help EPRAD in its time of need, but Lois knew what his  true motivations were. The timing was just too  coincidental.

The shuttle disaster also had ties to the death of Ron  Harris, husband to that poor woman who had come to the Lost  and Found Agency the day before. His occupation as a  scientist at Lexlabs had immediately raised a red flag in  her mind. Rummaging through his office the previous night,  she had found research notes about different drugs, drugs  that were nearly impossible to manufacture on Earth, but in  the vacuum of space, without the presence of gravity, they  could be made quite easily. Those research notes, along  with correspondence between Mr. Harris and his superiors,  had been carefully tucked inside her jacket, evidence that  would be used in her crusade. Then she had blasted the lab  to smithereens. She should feel guilty about arson, she  knew - it was a crime, after all. When the dawn broke,  there would be a hundred or so people without jobs,  scientific knowledge gained through careful testing would  be lost to the world, and possibly millions of dollars in  specialized equipment would have been destroyed. But it was  all worth it if it meant the possibility that even one life  would be spared from the hand of Lex Luthor.

The motivation for the murder of Ron Harris had been  immediately evident to Lois upon examination of the  evidence. There would be large amounts of money to be made  if the drugs they were testing were to go into production  on the space station. Most of the memos seemed to indicate  that the whole notion was meant to be theoretical, and that  the testing was purely in the name of science. But Mr.  Harris had openly questioned his superiors about what  Luthor's motives were in continuing the testing. Challenges  like that were likely what got him killed, especially  judging from the dates on the memos that she had seen. One  thing that Lois had found over and over again was that one  didn't threaten Luthor and live. She couldn't prove that  any threats were made, of course, but Mrs. Harris's  description of her husband's personality had seemed very  familiar to her. It was much like the personality of her  father, a man who hadn't been smart enough to keep silent  with questions of his own.

The information that had been taken away from Lexlabs had  been filed with all the rest that she had gathered  throughout the years. Like so many other cases she  investigated, the evidence was circumstantial. She had so  much circumstantial evidence against him, it was hard not  to see him for the monster that he was, but circumstantial  evidence wouldn't get him convicted of his crimes. His day  would come soon, she knew. Some day he would slip up,  forget to cover some of his tracks, and then he would  finally be brought to justice. Until then, she would  continue to follow his every step, continue to collect  evidence, and continue to make it difficult for him to do  business in Metropolis.

As her mind drifted back to her latest bit of handiwork, a  frown began to appear on her face. An article in the metro  section of the paper mentioned the fire, but it was  overshadowed by the reports of a flying angel who had come  to the rescue. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she  wouldn't have believed such an outlandish tale. There were  no photographs, no evidence that he had been there at all  except for the sketchy eyewitness reports from the vagrants  who had seen him, and a smoking pile of ashes that signaled  where a fire had once raged. Those that doubted the story  of the flying miracle man were hard pressed to find any  other explanation for how the fire could've been stopped.  The fire marshal was looking into the case, of course, but  he was quoted as saying that he had never seen anything  like it in all his days. It was like some sort of miracle.

As the thought faded from her mind, Lois looked up from the  paper, and saw that Clark had finally arrived at the  restaurant. He was talking with the hostess at the  entrance, and obviously hadn't seen her yet. For a moment  she forgot to breathe while she took in his form. The  feelings that had been so easily forgotten the day before  came back in full force, and she found that her focus of  attention was narrowing, zeroing in on him and him alone.  As she looked his way, the hostess pointed toward her  table, and Clark's gaze found her. For a moment their eyes  locked, and she felt a connection like nothing that she had  ever felt in her life. They stared at each other, drowned  in the sight of each other, the rest of the world far away.  Then she blinked, and the connection was instantly broken.  As he finally started walking toward her, the warning that  had been so prominent earlier began to come back to her.  Reasons why they couldn't be together, reasons why they had  no future. But, as she looked upon him again, those reasons  seemed very far away. The only thing that seemed close to  her at that moment was her awareness of him, and the  lightness of spirit that she was suddenly feeling. As he  approached the table, a ray of sun broke though the clouds,  illuminating him while at the same time leaving the other  areas of the outdoor caf‚ in shadow. In a life so filled  with symbolism, Lois couldn't help but recognize the sign  that was given to her. Maybe this lunch wouldn't be purely  platonic. Maybe their future wasn't completely doomed. And  maybe, even if it was, she could let herself enjoy this  day.

"Hi," he said with a smile as he sat down across from her.  She favored him with a grin of her own, wondering how it  was that he affected her the way that he did.

"Hi," she replied, feeling her cheeks redden under his  stunning grin. A silence fell over them for a moment while  they simply looked at each other. A million different  topics of conversation whirled around in Lois's head, but  she couldn't bring herself to start any of them. She  wondered what his interests were, what his thoughts and  feelings were about people, politics, the state of the  world in general. What was his favorite song, his favorite  color, his favorite book? There were so many things that  neither of them knew about each other, things that shaped  perceptions and conversations. But how did one go about  finding those things out without being direct?

It suddenly occurred to her that her lack of social  interaction had left her woefully inadequate in situations  such as this. She had never felt the need to date, and,  truth be told, she never thought that she ever would. What  did people say in situations such as this? Lois felt  herself beginning to panic as Clark's dark brown eyes  remained glued on her, his expression becoming more  concerned. Maybe her earlier resolutions about getting  close to this man had been for nothing - how could they  ever be in a relationship if they couldn't even talk to  each other?

"Lois, are you all right?" Clark spoke suddenly, jarring  her out of her thoughts. Feeling an ache in her hand, she  looked down and saw that she was clutching the upper corner  of her copy of the Daily Planet so hard that her knuckles  had turned white. She quickly released her grip and tried  to calm her racing heart.

"Umm, yeah I'm fine," she said, giving Clark a small smile.  "I'm just...well, I, ah, don't go out to lunch with  strangers very often."

Clark nodded slightly and gave her a reassuring look.  "Yeah, I guess I don't, either." His lopsided, somewhat shy  smile reassured Lois, and suddenly she didn't feel quite so  nervous anymore. She recalled the first time she had seen  him yesterday, and how boyish he had seemed to her. As she  watched, he fidgeted slightly, and that boyishness seemed  to reappear. It was a trait that she found very charming,  although she couldn't for the life of her figure out why.  In many ways he was her polar opposite. She had been  hardened by life in many respects after the death her  parents, having to work to support herself and her sister.  They never had a permanent home, or anyone to love except  for each other. Clark, on the other hand, looked almost as  if he had come straight from a more innocent time, when men  opened doors for women, pulled out their chairs in  restaurants, and stood as they entered the room. She could  practically see his mother doting on him, sewing his  clothes, straightening his ties. But she thought she could  sense that his life hadn't been without its trails, too.  Maybe it was a look in his eyes, a gesture, the way he  seemed to look at other people. It was another one of those  things that she wanted to find out about him.

She suspected that there was still a part of herself,  buried deep inside, that was a lot like him. If her past  had been different, they might have been a lot more alike.  That smile of his shed lights on parts of herself that she  hadn't even known existed, and it felt good, she realized.  In finding out about him, in just being with him, she was  finding out more about herself.

"So, how did you like the article?" he asked as he sat up  taller in his chair. His eyebrows were raised in  expectation, and Lois found herself smiling. She had almost  forgotten about the information she had given him the day  before, and the story it had led to in the edition that was  sitting in front of her. She had worked with literally  dozens of reporters at the Planet throughout the years, and  although she had given them all equally powerful  information, the way that had translated to copy had varied  greatly between them. Each had a different style, a  different way of approaching the subject, all of which  contributed to the impact of their writing. Most of the  reporters that wrote up her work left her wondering how  they had managed to make their living in their profession.  Cases that Lois had found interesting and compelling, often  left her with a bad taste in her mouth after the article  was published. It was for that reason that she had begun  looking over their shoulders, letting herself edit what  they wrote. But for some reason she hadn't bothered with  Clark.

As it came to be, she hadn't needed to. The story that he  had written was wonderful. He had obviously done some  research of his own to add to her information. He hadn't  taken sides, even though her notes had been very one-sided,  and the article that he had written turned out to be very  balanced and informative, written so well that it almost  seemed poetic. He had a definite way with words, and she  was pleased to say the least.

"It was good," Lois said, and although her comment was less  than gushing, it elicited a pleasant smile from Clark.

"Really? I guess I expected you to be a little harder on  me," Clark said sheepishly. Either he was extremely modest,  or he didn't know his own talent, Lois figured. She could  see him as the modest type - it fit in with his boyish  charms.

"Well, you have talent, I could tell just by the way you  interviewed me," Lois said in her most supportive tone. "I  can't say as much about some of the people I worked with  there."

His grin was stunning. Lois wasn't the type to pay  compliments normally, but seeing the effect that it had on  him made her wonder if it wasn't something that she should  do more regularly. "It's just a shame that my first story  for the Daily Planet had to be on the same day as that  space shuttle disaster. My article was shoved way in the  back," he said, his smile falling away.

Lois nodded and opened her copy of the paper. "Yes, right  below the story about the lab fire," she said, almost  choking out the last words as she realized what she was  saying. She hadn't meant to mention the fire, at least not  now. The last thing she wanted was to get mired in some  conversation about how awful arson was, or what a shame it  was that the business had been burned. It would be hard for  her to hide her feelings about the situation, to filer  everything so as not to give away her involvement. He had a  way of breaking down her barriers, of making her feel  things that she had no business feeling.

As she kept her gaze on the paper, waiting for his  response, an uncomfortable silence developed between them.  She looked up and could see a wide-eyed, panicked  expression had come over his face as he stared down at the  article. He seemed to feel her eyes on him, and after a  moment he shifted his gaze to her, an obviously forced  smile forming on his lips.

"Uh, yeah, that lab fire. That was sure something, wasn't  it?" he said, equally forced enthusiasm in his voice. His  eyes implored her to change the subject, and Lois couldn't  help but wonder what was wrong. Maybe he was scooped out of  the story by another reporter. Maybe he had some sort of  family member or close friend lose a job in that fire.  Whatever the reason was, Lois felt more than happy to  oblige his silent request.

"Yes, very unusual. But that fire article, well, it wasn't  nearly as good as yours was. Of course, you got your  information from the best source in town, so I guess that's  no surprise," Lois said, surprised at the somewhat teasing  air that she had taken on. Clark seemed to appreciate it,  though. Again his manner changed at the drop of a hat.

He brought his elbows onto the table and rested his chin on  his palms. A twinkle formed in his eyes as he regarded her  for a second. "You know, I heard that you were tough to  deal with. I didn't expect such high praise from someone  Ralph referred to as 'Mad Dog'."

Lois felt a momentary flash of anger before she steadied  her emotions. That he would even tell her such a thing was  usual in and of itself, given what that twerp Ralph must  have told him. "I can assure you that at least half of what  comes out of his mouth is exaggerated," Lois said, trying  her best to keep her annoyance from showing.

"Yeah, I know," Clark said, a reassuring smile on his lips.  "It's really too bad that the only information that I have  about you came from him. Tell me, who is Lois Lane, Private  Investigator, really?"

She regarded him for a second. "I thought this lunch was  going to be business," she said, trying to make her words  as stern as she could. A part of her did want it to be just  business, but she just couldn't ignore the strange  attraction that she had to him.

Apparently something in her voice gave away that she was  less than serious. A part of her was growing to really like  that half smile he gave when he was teasing someone. "Well,  it has been, hasn't it? If you want, you can tell me all  about your investigative business. It doesn't matter to me,  I just want to know more about you."

Behind his light manner, she could sense a certain  seriousness to his words. He really was interested in her,  who she was, what made her tick. Lois was caught off guard  by that thought for a second, and she blinked a few times  as the gravity of that set in. Nobody had ever cared enough  to want to know about her. It was a frightening prospect,  but as she looked at him, she decided that maybe she did  want him to know about her life, or at least the part that  she didn't mind making public.

"Only if you tell me about yourself, too. You might have  half-baked information from Ralph, but that still gives you  an advantage. All I know about you is that you're a good  writer who likes to ask strange women to lunch."

Lois watched as his nose wrinkled slightly with amusement,  and she found her smile again. "It's a deal," Clark said,  as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes were focused on  nothing but her, the intenseness of his gaze boring into  her as she began her story.

"It was late November, 1978, and the winter had already  began to make its presence felt, when Sam and Ellen Lane  made their way through the back alleys of Metropolis's  Garden District...."

***

Clark wandered back toward the Daily Planet, his attention  focused far away from the bustle of people on the sidewalk  around him. Thoughts and emotions were warring within him,  all focused on the beautiful creature that was Lois Lane.  He had gone to lunch with her, hoping that he could somehow  get to know her better, and ended up getting more than he  had bargained for. The story of her childhood, of the  events that had driven her to become a detective, was  hauntingly chilling. She had felt such pain in her life,  yet somehow, she hadn't let it make her cynical. She had  even opened a shelter for those who had lost their  families, like she had. The moniker of "Mad Dog" was the  last thing that he would've ever thought of for her. There  should be more people in the world like Lois Lane.

He had told her his life story, too, or at least the parts  that he let the rest of the world know. He didn't tell her  about his heritage, or about the special things he could  do. Maybe he would in time, who knew. All he did know is  that he had a good time, and it seemed to him that she had,  too. Neither of them mentioned another lunch, but she had  given him one of her business cards, one that had both her  home and business numbers on it. That's not something that  someone who had no interest in ever seeing him again would  do.

His life, although it had been full, had something missing  from it. He had seen exotic places that so many people only  dreamed about, lived in cultures that few knew even  existed, and done things that no human could do. He had  learned enough to last him a lifetime, yet he didn't really  have anyone to share it with, aside from his parents. When  the time came and he found the person who was right for  him, then he would let her know everything about himself,  what he had done and seen and been. The only problem was  that he hadn't even remotely found anyone who he felt that  connection with, at least, not until Lois had come along.  Up until a few hours earlier, he wasn't sure how he felt  about her, either, except that she made something inside  him take notice. But after lunch.... He was feeling things  now that he had never felt before. He didn't know if it was  love, per se, but something about her just felt right.

One of his talents was the ability to interpret emotions,  to channel them through himself to tell a story. With every  story, he felt what the victim was feeling, but he never  let those emotions overrule his objectivity. He would draw  on them as he told his tale, letting them fall away as he  finished his story, letting them become distant shadows in  his memory. As Lois spoke, he absorbed her emotions, too,  but unlike all his previous experiences, her pain moved  him, touched his heart, and made him want to pull her close  to him and ease all her suffering. As far as Lois was  concerned, he knew he had no objectivity, and he knew that  the effect her story had on him wouldn't be leaving him.  Maybe someday he would be lucky enough to be allowed to  hold her in his arms, and to be the one that would make her  pain go away once and for all. He vowed to call her that  night to make an appointment to see her again.

He brought his attention back to the world around him as he  entered the Daily Planet building. As he walked through the  famous revolving door and into the lobby, a shabbily dress  man ran toward him, his eyes frantic.

"You must help me," the man said as he reached up and  grabbed the lapels on Clark's jacket. Clark looked around,  seeing the usual bustle of people in the lobby, many of  whom seemed to have taken an interest in the disturbance  the man was causing. Of all the people at the Planet at the  moment, he couldn't help but wonder why he had been singled  out. Whatever the reason, the man seemed terrified of  something.

Clark put his hands gently on the man's shoulders in a  gesture of comfort. "Help you with what?" Clark asked,  making eye contact with the man. This seemed to have a  further calming effect on him. Clark felt his grip loosen  on his jacket, and some of the wildness of the man's  demeanor seemed to disappear, although Clark could still  sense his urgency.

"The Messenger. If it's allowed to be re-launched, it WILL  explode again, you must believe me," the man said.

The Messenger story, the big headline of the day, was in  the laps of the best and brightest senior reporters at the  Planet. Unfortunately, that didn't mean him, at least not  yet. "Sir, if you want I can take you upstairs and talk to  a few of the reporters who are handling this case," Clark  started, but the violent head shaking of the man stopped  him.

"No, they wouldn't listen. None of them would listen. But  I'm telling you, for all those people who will be on board.  Please," he said. The tone in his voice softened, and he  took a shuddering breath. The concern on his face was  evident. Whatever his story, he seemed to truly believe  what he was saying, and he seemed truly concerned for the  passengers. Clark liked to think that he was a good judge  of character, and nothing about this man raised any alarm  bells in his mind.

Clark looked around the lobby, and noticed the small coffee  stand and the unoccupied tables that surrounded it. "Why  don't you come over here and tell me about it," he said,  gently leading the man toward a table. The man smiled, a  look of relief coming across his face.

As they sat down, the man related his story to Clark. His  name was Samuel Platt, and he had been an engineer for  EPRAD until recently. He claimed to have been fired in a  conspiracy, a cover-up that extended all the way to the  upper levels of the organization. According to Platt, what  had caused the explosion the previous night was a problem  with engine coolants, a problem which he had outlined in a  report to management, but which they had openly  disregarded. That was right before his firing, right before  the trip to the office of his supervisor, a Dr. Toni  Baines, who had started interrogating him.

"The interrogation started out innocently enough, but as I  sat there, answering her questions, I suddenly felt queasy  and the room began to spin. They had drugged me, probably  spiked my coffee. I don't remember a whole lot between then  and the next morning, but I do seem to recall a dark room,  and people asking me things, things about what I knew and  who I told it to. When I did come to my senses, I found  myself in an alley, and a cop was standing over me.

"I was arrested and charged with drug possession. They  found a bag of heroin on me, although I had never so much  as seen that vile substance before then. Baines and her  people planted it on me when I was drugged, I'm sure. It  ruined my career, and it ruined my family life. Nobody  believes what I'm saying is the truth, but it IS Mr. Kent,  I swear it."

Clark took a good look at the man, and then closed his  eyes. The story was fantastic, and seemed too contrived to  be true. Drugging employees and setting them up on  narcotics charges to get them out of the way, those were  things that only happened on bad TV shows, weren't they?  But as he opened his eyes once more, he could see the  intelligence in the man's eyes. He might be dressed like a  bum, but during his tale, Clark could sense a keen  intellect, a real knowledge of what went on at EPRAD.  Although he knew it defied any and all logic, Clark found  that he actually believed Platt's story.

Clark sighed. "Do you have any proof?" he asked. Although  he thought that Platt was telling the truth, nobody else  would believe the tale without proof of some sort. Even a  copy of the report he sent to Baines would be helpful,  especially if coupled with actual evidence from the  destroyed ship.

Platt's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes, I do. But I need to get it  together. If you could come by tonight, I can give it to  you," he said. They agreed on a time and location, and  Platt left. Clark watched him as he walked out of the  building, all traces of the frantic man he had seen earlier  gone, replaced with someone who was calm, poised, even  friendly. As Platt disappeared into the crowd, Clark  finally made his way up to the newsroom.

After stepping off the elevator, he headed straight to the  desk of Edwardo Friaz, the man in charge of the Planet  investigation of the Messenger disaster. Friaz seemed to be  lost in concentration, reading one of a number of reports  that sat in manila folders on his desk. As Clark  approached, he reluctantly tore is gaze away from the  report, a somewhat annoyed expression on his face.

"What is it...Kent, right?" he asked.

"I just ran into a man in the lobby who claimed to know the  reason that the shuttle blew up..." Clark started, only to  be interrupted by Friaz.

"Crazy balding man, looks like he's been sleeping in a  cardboard box for a while?" he asked. The description might  be a tad overly dramatic, but it was Platt, all right.  Clark only nodded, and Friaz drew is lips into a slight  frown, finally setting the report he had been reading on  his desk. "He tried to sell that story up here, but none of  us were buying it."

"But maybe he knows something. He said he used to work for  EPRAD," Clark said, before he noticed Friaz shaking his  head, a long suffering look on his face.

"Listen kid," he said, his voice patronizing. Clark sensed  the lecture that was to come, concerning the tidbit of  newsroom canon that he had apparently broken. "Since coming  into work today, I've gotten at least twenty calls or  visits from kooks like him who claim to have insider  information on some conspiracy involving the Messenger.  After you're around here for a while, you'll see that we  just don't have time to investigate all of their wild  claims. Most of them are just whack jobs looking for  attention, nothing more."

With that, Friaz gave a dismissive hand gesture and  returned his attention to his file, ignoring Clark as if he  had never been there at all. He probably had a point, Clark  thought. There was no way that they would even want to  devote the time and effort to investigating all of the wild  stories that people off the street brought into the  newsroom, but he just knew that this one was genuine. It  was at least worth a cursory look, especially if it meant  the lives of the future passengers.

His mind made up, Clark sat down in front of his computer,  mentally outlining how he would investigate Platt's story.  He would worry about what the Chief had to say about that  later.

***

Lois had work to do, not the least of which was to continue  her investigation into Lex Luthor, and how he tied into the  Messenger disaster. But at the moment, her mind was on  anything but her caseload. She had just finished her  meeting with the man of her dreams.

As much as she had devoted her life to her work, a part  deep inside her had dedicated itself to torturing her  dreams with fantasies that would make Harlequin romance  writers blush. In her dream world, her parents were still  alive, Lex Luthor was securely locked away in some maximum- security prison, his name reviled by the masses, and she  was worshiped and adored by the quintessential perfect man.  In her dreams she always felt normal, safe, and loved,  feelings that had finally followed her into the waking  world once she had seen the obvious desire for her that had  burned in Clark Kent's eyes. He was an intelligent,  compassionate man, who always regarded her with a smile and  a friendly word and who, despite the dire warnings given to  him by his coworkers, had seen fit to give her a chance. In  many respects, he mirrored her fantasy men; in many more,  he exceeded them. She could sense that beneath his ill- filling suit was a marvelously sculpted body, his flowing  muscles filling out his dress shirt in places, giving away  strong arms that she longed to have wrapped around her....

Lois coughed and tried to banish that thought. Thinking  about him was doing nothing to help her objectivity. Maybe  it was time to tell Lucy about him, and to ask her advice  about what should be done. She knew she could count on Lucy  to be her rock, and to remind her of what was important in  her life, in both their lives. She had a feeling of how the  conversation would go, but she didn't necessarily  disapprove of that anymore. Lucy had been trying to push  her toward dating again, and Lois had to admit that in this  case, it might not be such a bad idea. But she wouldn't  make any decisions until after they talked.

She climbed the steps to the Lost and Found brownstone, her  mind still pleasantly wrapped in thoughts of Clark. Walking  in, she saw that the waiting area was empty. In a city as  large as Metropolis, families lost loved ones every day,  yet so few knew about her agency and her desire to help  them in any way she could. In a good week, they would get a  few stragglers in their door, but so many more slipped  through the cracks, lost in an indifferent system. She had  taken out small ads in weekly publications, and word of  mouth had helped greatly, but that just wasn't enough. Her  inheritance from her parents funded the whole operation,  but sometimes, when coming home to an empty house, it just  didn't feel like enough. In the past, that feeling of near  failure had only added to her great emptiness, but today it  only served as a reminder of work that needed to be done,  of a word that needed to be spread throughout Metropolis.  Today she couldn't feel that depression, because she had  much more pleasant things on her mind.

"Lucy?" she called as walked through the foyer.

"I'm in here," came the muffled call from the kitchen. Lois  made her way through the house, and as she reached the  entryway, she caught sight of Lucy making a sandwich.

"Hey," Lois said, her voice chipper.

Lucy gave her a strange look that puzzled Lois for a  moment, until she realized that she almost never sounded  chipper. Brooding, yes. Serious, yes. But chipper? Lois  tried to think of the last time that she had even felt joy,  and she found that she couldn't remember. "I thought you  had a big case to work on today, what with the Messenger  explosion and Luthor's proposal," Lucy said after a moment,  her expression now more amused than puzzled.

"I have all afternoon and evening to that," Lois replied,  trying unsuccessfully to take the smile out of her voice.

"What is this? Are those your teeth? Do I see a smile? Who  are you and what have you done with my sister?"

Lois giggled, drawing a pleased smile out of Lucy. "It's  really me, and I need to talk to you about something," Lois  said, her voice softening. She gestured to the table and  they both sat down, Lucy popping a potato chip into her  mouth as she did so.

"Well?" Lucy asked as she gave Lois her undivided  attention.

All of a sudden Lois felt somewhat nervous. This was  unexplored territory for her. "I, uh, well...." She gave a  quick nervous smile and took a deep breath. "I need some  advice...on a man. See, I met somebody...."

"Dear lord, someone get me to a bookie. I'm putting all my  money on the Cubs and I'm buying a lotto ticket because I  think Hell just froze over," Lucy said as she dropped her  sandwich.

Lois snorted. "Thanks for your vote of confidence," she  said, her cheeks beginning to burn.

"No, Lois this is WONDERFUL," Lucy positively beamed as she  scooted forward in her chair and put her hand on Lois's  arm. "All those years, you wouldn't so much as look at a  man. He must be someone special. What's his name? What's he  do? Does he have a brother?"

Lois let out a small laugh. She and her sister had always  been business partners, and they treated each other with  love and respect and understanding, as any family members  would, but she had never really felt like she had connect  with Lucy as a "girl friend." It probably had to do with  the dating thing, and Lois's total disregard for many of  the traditionally girlish things, such as fashion and  gossip and anything pink. Maybe it was time to change that.

"His name is Clark, he writes for a newspaper, and no, he  doesn't have a brother. But that's not what I wanted to ask  you about."

Lucy looked puzzled. "What is it, then?"

"It's.... I don't know if I should. Go out with him, that  is."

Lucy tilted her head and put on her most supportive  expression. "Oh Lois, why not? It's been so long. If you've  finally found someone that makes you, the impenetrable  fortress of perpetual singleness, want to start dating,  then I say you grab hold of him with both hands and don't  let go."

Lois smiled at her sister's optimism. "Yeah, I know, I  probably should. But you know the reason why I didn't want  a man in my life in the first place."

Lucy sighed and looked down, shaking your head. Silence  developed between the two of them for a minute, then Lucy  finally brought her face up again, and Lois was shocked to  see how serious she appeared. "I know that for years you've  felt that it's your duty to make things right by Mom and  Dad. You want the man who ordered their deaths brought  down, and you'll go to any lengths necessary to do it. You  want to make sure that nobody else had to suffer like we  did. But don't you think that Mom and Dad would want you to  be happy, too?

"You've devoted your whole life up to now to them. Isn't it  about time to devote your life to yourself and your own  happiness? If judgment day came today, I think you could  honestly say that you did your best, maybe not by the most  conventional or legal means, but you tried so hard. Live  your life Lois. Go out on a date, if that's what you really  want."

Lucy was so smart. Lois didn't need to voice the thoughts  that had been running through her head, the doubts and  reservations that she held. Lucy just knew. After so many  years, it was probably inevitable, but it was comforting  nonetheless. She didn't know what she'd do if she ever lost  her sister, and she hoped she would never have to find out.

"Thank you," Lois said as she felt a tear run down her  cheek. They sat and smiled at each other for a moment. "He  doesn't know a lot about what I really do," Lois added as  afterthought, subconsciously seeking her sister's approval  on the subject.

She didn't need to ask, after all. "If he's the right one  for you, then you'll find the right time to tell him, and  hopefully he'll understand." Lucy smiles wickedly before  continuing. "If he doesn't, you mind too much letting him  know that I'm available? Anyone willing to give you a  chance is all right in my book."

The serious mood between them had been broken. "Fat  chance," Lois said as she stood up, laughter in her eyes.  She felt so different than she ever had, almost light  headed. For the first time that she could ever remember,  she actually had something to smile about, a future that  looked tangible and, yes, happy. Hopefully. But she would  never know if she didn't take the steps, say the scary  words. She wanted to go out with him, now she just had to  tell him that.

Lois began to walk away from the table, gathering her  briefcase as she did. "Hey, you want any lunch?" she heard  Lucy ask. The smile on her face only grew.

"I already ate," she called over her shoulder. What a great  lunch it had been, too. Now, if only she could set up  another lunch date. With a spring suddenly appearing in her  step, Lois left the brownstone and set off toward her  office. It was time to get down to some actual work.

***

The EPRAD offices in Metropolis were not as impressive as  Clark would've thought at first. For an agency that prided  itself on thinking big, it was actually quite small. But he  supposed that was to be expected, especially since the bulk  of its operations were based in Florida. From the research  that he had done that afternoon, Clark learned that this  particular office had overseen the design and construction  of only the rocket booster systems on the Messenger,  leaving the other assorted parts - life support, computers,  research-related systems - to other small offices in  Washington, California, Texas, and Florida.

The head of the Metropolis office was Dr. Antoinette  Baines, the same Dr. Baines that Platt had mentioned to him  earlier in the day. According to employment records, Samuel  Platt, DOCTOR Samuel Platt, had also worked at the office  until a few months earlier, when he had been fired after  being charged with felony drug possession. The information  that Dr. Platt had given him was proving itself to be true  so far, and Clark intended to find out if the technical  details were true, as well. He had set up an interview with  Dr. Baines, although he didn't honestly think that it would  do any good. If she was indeed behind the explosion, she  certainly wouldn't volunteer that information to some  rookie reporter. But even though her information might be  bogus, Clark could read her expressions, mannerisms, and  heart rate, and hopefully find the truth that way.

Entering the building, he saw that it was as unassuming on  the inside as it was on the outside. The furnishings were  virtual clones of that in every other government office  he'd ever been in. There were no large signs on the wall,  no plaques or awards or anything else that even so much as  told the function of the office aside from some small,  white lettering on the door. Even the secretary was rather  plain, although she was very friendly as she directed him  to Dr. Baines's office.

Clark didn't know exactly what to expect of Dr. Baines. His  imagination told him that a woman in her position, who had  done the things that she had supposedly done, must surely  be older, rather controlling, stiff and formal. As the  doors to her office were opened and Clark got a look at  her, he saw that she was anything but. In the sterile  dullness of the office, she stood out like a jewel. Young,  attractive, and quick with a smile, she was the complete  opposite of every notion that he had held. But, he reminded  himself, it was quite possible that she was behind the  Messenger explosion. And besides, he thought as a smile  spread across his face, she was nowhere near as attractive  as a certain private investigator who he was enamored with.  Lois was the kind of person who would no doubt sneer at  this woman and her alleged deeds with contempt.

"Mr. Kent," she said, holding out her hand as he  approached. Clark shook it and noticed that her heart rate  increased markedly. He wondered if that was an indicator of  anxiety, until he noticed her cheeks flush ever so  slightly. She was attracted to him; maybe he could use that  to his advantage.

"Dr. Baines. I'm pleased that you agreed to see me so  quickly, especially considering how hectic it must be  around here," Clark said, turning on all the charm that he  possibly could.

Her smile broadened. "Yes, it's been very busy, but I also  know that it's important to keep the public informed on  what we're doing in the aftermath of this tragedy. I know a  lot of people out there were very concerned about the  future of the space program, and I hope that I can quell  those fears."

Clark reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small  notebook and pencil, writing down a few words as she spoke.  "Well, what I want to do is start out with some background  on you. What is it that you actually do here, Dr. Baines?"

She nodded and listed her duties, of which there were many.  Most them he had discovered from his research earlier, but  others he had never even guessed at. He dutifully took  notes, although he knew full well that these queries were  covers, set-ups for what he had come to discover. A few  more standard questions were given, which received equally  standard replies, before he finally dropped the hammer.

"Do you know a Dr. Samuel Platt?" he asked. For a moment,  her smile faltered and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly,  but she quickly regained her composure. If he hadn't been  paying attention, he might've missed her reaction  altogether, but as it was, it had been all too clear.

"Dr. Platt worked here for many years. He was an excellent  scientist, but he had a drug problem that affected his job  performance, and we had to let him go." A smug smile played  faintly across her lips as she talked.

"Do you recall receiving a report from him concerning  coolant systems on the Messenger?" Clark asked, finally  arriving at the question he had been waiting to ask.

Her reaction was more marked this time, the cracks in her  self-control growing larger as her eyes burned into him  momentarily. "Coolants? No, Dr. Platt wouldn't have been  involved in any areas that would've involved coolants. His  work concerned other matters entirely."

Standing up, she continued. "Now, as you can see," she said  as she gestured to the papers on her desk, "I have work to  attend to. I wish you luck in writing you article, and if  there's anything else you need, don't hesitate to call me,"  she said, turning on her charm.

Clark nodded and rose from his chair, recognizing that he  wouldn't get any further with her. He had been right to  assume that she wouldn't be very forthright, but she had  made it all too clear that he was on to something. Smiling,  he left the office and immediately slipped into the air at  a speed faster than the human eye would follow. It only  took a few short seconds before he saw her reach for the  phone.

"Lex, it's me. I think we have a problem," she said. Clark  didn't need to hear any more. Streaking across the sky, he  headed for Smallville and his dinner engagement with his  parents.

***

"Mom, what would you think if I told you that there was  more going on with the Messenger explosion than a simple  accident?" Clark asked as he reached for a roll. The Kent  family was gathered around the dinner table for the second  night in a row, although unlike the previous night, the  atmosphere was light and relaxed. Something about the  welcoming bowls of food on the table made Clark feel at  ease and think more clearly, and right now he had the  Messenger on his mind.

Martha gave Clark a startled look as she passed her husband  a bowl of mashed potatoes. "What makes you say that?"

Jonathan also regarded his son with a curious glance,  silently prompting Clark to tell his tale. "Well," Clark  began, leaning back in his chair. "A man came to me with  information about the explosion today. At first I thought  he was crazy, but out of curiosity, I had his story checked  out. The deeper I dug, the more facts I found to support  his claim. I have an appointment to meet him tonight so he  can give me a report which will hopefully shed some more  light on the subject."

His parents looked at each other, and then back at Clark.  "What kind of claim did he have?" Jonathan asked.

"Deliberate sabotage," Clark answered grimly. On the flight  over, he had run some scenarios through his mind, but as  far as he could tell, all signs pointed to just that. Why  someone would want to do such a thing, to endanger the  lives of everyone on that vessel, he just couldn't fathom.  What was even more unfathomable in his mind was how such a  thing could happen without somebody else finding out.  Obviously Platt had, and his career had been ruined because  of it. But Platt was only one man in a great chain of  people who had worked on the Messenger. An engineering firm  had to design the system, EPRAD had to approve that design  and collect bids from contractors interested in building  it. Surely one of those contractors would've noticed the  problem - the types of companies who would build those  systems for EPRAD had top-notch scientists in their employ,  people who would be more than capable of catching such a  glitch. But none of them had. Whatever the reason, Clark  was becoming more convinced that what little he did know  was only the tip of the iceberg of a story so complex that  it probably involved bribery, deceit, and manipulation on a  grand scale.

The look on Martha's face was one of sheer horror.  "Sabotage? Clark, are you sure? Who would want to do such a  thing?"

Only one name ran though his mind, causing a small chill to  pass through his body. The name "Lex" was not exactly  common; in fact, a search of the Planet's databases for  that name turned up only one man. Lex Luthor was the third  richest person on the face of the planet, someone highly  respected for his philanthropic work and his generosity. He  was a man of power, a man who had the whole world in his  hands, who could make or break lives with the stroke of a  pen if he so desired. With great power came great  temptation to abuse it, Clark of all people should know  that. While Luthor's reputation would tend to make Clark  skeptical of his involvement in the affair, there was no  denying Dr. Baines' phone call, or the fact that Luthor had  taken the opportunity to sell his own space program to  EPRAD in the wake of the Messenger disaster. Mr. Luthor had  a lot at stake in this deal, no doubt. It made Clark  curious to find out what other skeletons were hiding in the  closet of Metropolis's richest man.

Blinking, Clark realized that he had been absorbed in  thought for a few moments. "I don't know who would want to  blow up the Messenger, at least not yet, but I intend to  find out." He gave them both his most reassuring smile, and  he knew that they expected him to live up to that promise.  He just hoped he wouldn't let them down.

"While we're talking about stopping crime...." Clark  started, looking expectantly at him mother. He had  discussed the idea of a secret identity with her the night  before, and she had immediately been supportive of it. She  volunteered to design and put together his costume even  before he got a chance to ask her to. Before he left she  even took his measurements, promising to have something  waiting for him to try on after supper.

Martha's face lit up immediately, and Clark looked over to  see his father smiling. "Your mother has not left her room  all day. There's enough bright colored fabric up there to  blind a person. Hope you're ready for it."

"Oh Jonathan," Martha said, giving him a quick pat and a  teasing smile. "I think you'll be pleased," she said,  turning to Clark. "Your father even leant me some of those  old comic books of his to give me some more ideas."

The memory of the bright, gaudy costumes contained in some  of those books surfaced in Clark's mind. Of all the things  to remember from those stories read to him so many years  ago, that he should remember the costumes said something.  He didn't know whether to be horrified or gratified. If his  mother made the uniforms, though, they must be special, and  she knew him well enough to know what he would like.

"I can't wait to see them, Mom," Clark said, and it was  true. The rest of dinner went by without much ceremony,  although Clark's mind remained on the task to come. When  the time came for them to clean up, Jonathan volunteered to  do the work in the kitchen, shooing Martha and Clark away  so that they could get on with the costume fitting. They  both protested that they weren't in that much of a hurry,  but Jonathan knew how anxious his son was to get into  uniform, and Clark silently thanked him for his generosity.

Entering his parents' room, he immediately saw that his dad  hadn't been lying. Bright colored spandex covered every  surface of the room; brilliant reds, blues, greens, and  oranges blended with each other, cut into various patterns  and shapes, all waiting for him to try on. Like a kid  dragged into a department store for new school clothes,  Clark tried on each garment in turn, parading himself in  front of his mother each time, seeking her approval. He  didn't really know what he had been expecting, but most of  the costumes just didn't seem right. So many of them were  more colorful copies of outfits worn by comic heroes of  old, heroes that he didn't necessarily want to imitate. He  wanted to make his own statement, be his own kind of hero,  and he didn't really want to do it in the flashiest way  possible. It was beginning to look like it might take more  work to find his ideal costume when he finally tried on a  blue outfit with red briefs and a red cape.

Entering his mother's room after putting it on, he saw her  turn her wary face toward him. It had probably been harder  on her seeing him try on the finished products and reject  them, but she knew as well as he did that none of them had  been the right one. As she saw him in the newest outfit,  though, a smile began to form on her face. Clark made his  way toward the mirror and caught his reflection, and he was  surprised at what he saw.

Something about this one spoke to him. It was simple,  uncomplicated, and used primary colors. It was  distinguished in it's own way, yet...

"One thing's for sure - nobody's going to be looking at  your face," his mother said, voicing the very thought that  had been at the front of his mind.

"Mom!" he said, feeling his cheeks begin to burn. It was  downright embarrassing having your mother looking at you in  that way. Of course, he reminded himself, it he wore this  outfit in public, there would be a lot more people to  scrutinize him in just the same way.

"Do you really think that criminals will take someone  seriously who wears his underwear on the outside of his  clothes?" Clark asked, turning around to get a more  complete view of the outfit. He heard his mother give a  chuckle.

"It adds a little modesty to it, I think. Might as well  leave something to the imagination," she replied, and he  nodded. He would feel much more awkward without that extra  bit of protection there, he was sure.

On a whim, he strode to the bathroom and ran his fingers  under the water, then brushed them though his hair, the  water slicking it down and pasting it to his head.  Returning to the mirror, he examined his reflection  closely. Without his glasses, with his hair down on his  head in a style that he had never worn before, and with the  tight outfit on, he almost didn't recognize himself. His  dad was right, he thought as he finally let himself smile.

In the mirror, he saw his mom come up behind him and wrap  her arms around his waist. She knew that they had found  their costume, yet she was still looking at his reflection  with an odd look on her face. "One more thing and this will  be perfect," she said after a moment, then stepped toward  the large trunk that sat at the foot of the bed. After  rooting around, she looked up at him, a wide smile on her  face.

"The blanket we found you in," she said, holding up a  folded up swatch of blue cloth that looked like it had seen  better days. She loosened her grip on it and the blanket  unfolded, revealing a red and yellow "S" inside a  pentagonal shape. She walked over to him and held the  blanket against his chest, the blue of the fabric almost  exactly matching that of his outfit. As he looked down and  saw it there, he knew that his uniform was finally  complete. The figure was a link to his heritage, to the  side of himself that was not of this earth, the side of  himself that he had kept hidden for so long, but that would  be allowed to grow and prosper and be free because of the  identity that he had created. The symbol was from the same  place as he, a place that created people who could do all  the things that he could do, and he wanted to honor that  place for giving him life, and for landing him in the back  yard of the best set of parents in the entire universe.

Nodding, he embraced his mother, who now had a solitary  tear making its way down her cheek. "It's perfect, Mom.  Thank you," he said softly. A hero was born.

***

Part 3

As the sun set on Metropolis and the city and its many  corners and alleyways were enveloped in darkness, Lois Lane  made her way along the streets. Even since her parents'  death, she had felt at one with the shadows, comfortable in  the very same darkness that had frightened her so much as a  small child. All children knew that only monsters lurked in  the dark, but the death of her parents had taught her that  even a monster had a face, and it looked strikingly similar  to that of everyone else around her. She supposed now that  she should've found that thought disturbing, but instead it  had been a comfort for her. Maybe it had been the growing  coldness inside her that had found solace in the dark,  maybe it was the planned vengeance and the knowledge that  she would likely become one of those monsters she had so  feared. In any case, she had embraced it with her entire  being, using it to every advantage that she could.

She tightened the belt to her coat and shrunk further  inside the hood, trying her best to blend into the night.  Monster might be too strong of a word for her, she  reflected. There was only one person toward whom she bore  any ill will. The hatred she had for Lex Luthor transcended  anything that she could've ever thought possible, having  had many years to boil and fester within her. She had long  ago stopped fantasizing about vacations and family  gatherings that would never happen because of him. With  every new foster home she had been shuffled to, she cursed  his name. With every crack of a belt across her back, with  every beating suffered because of a foster parent's  addiction to alcohol, with every cruel, hurtful word thrown  at her, she grew to hate Luthor more. After time the plans  for revenge had started forming, and she had bottled up her  hurt and kept it buried within her, drawing on it to fuel  her vendetta against the man that had stolen her life away.

The thought caused an involuntary shudder, and Lois drew  the coat even more closely around her, shoving her hands in  the pockets, immediately feeling the small homemade  explosive contained within. It was funny how much a  person's perception of morality could change, she mused as  she continued down the street. She had always been a  straight arrow as a child, pure and virtuous, though maybe  a little headstrong. Pain could make people do strange  things, but even so, she wouldn't have followed through  with her carefully laid plans if she hadn't been a student  of the ways of society. She made it a point to study the  behavior of people, try to figure out what motivated them  to do what they did. She watched the news religiously, read  the newspaper and magazines, all hoping to come to some  sort of understanding, to try and decide how it was that  she was supposed to feel. It hadn't taken long to see that  the laws that the nation regarded so highly were not, in  fact, universal, that if their position in society was high  enough, one could quite literally get away with murder.  What had once been black and white in her mind had turned  into shades of gray. There were no absolutes, there were no  heroes, and there was no reason to believe that Luthor  would ever be caught by anyone. She was allowed to be mad  at him, and even more than that, she felt she was duty  bound to use that to be the one who finally brought him  down. If the police were unwilling to pursue him, then she  was unwilling to have any respect for them or the laws they  supposedly upheld.

To bring him down meant a long, arduous investigation. She  had known all along that it would not be easy, that the  evidence wouldn't be immediately forthcoming, but that  hadn't bothered her too much. To exact her revenge in the  meantime, she was willing to pick away at his businesses,  to fight fire with fire, literally. Flames had the power to  destroy thoroughly, to live and breathe and consume, to  wreak its havoc and slip quietly away. The countless labs  and offices she had torched throughout the years had  probably been a drop in the large ocean that was his  business empire, but all had been important to him at the  time that she had liberated them, and she knew it. She  estimated that he had lost years of research and millions  of dollars to her vandalism, but how many years of her life  had she lost due to his? She knew that he was actively  trying to hunt her down, using every means at his disposal  to stop her, but he had been unsuccessful so far. Darkness  was her ally, allowing her to come and go unseen, allowing  her to continue her destruction upon Luthor.

Her target tonight was the Metropolis office of EPRAD. It  was the last place that she had expected to find herself  when she had started surveillance of Luthor that night. She  had watched his private entrance for hours, seeing various  servants and workers come and go, before she had finally  witnessed Dr. Antoinette Baines entering his residence. It  was hard not to notice the woman who had plastered her face  all over the television in the wake of the Messenger  disaster, assuring the city that everything was going to be  fine. But it obviously wasn't. Baines had no reason  whatsoever to be entering the private abode of Luthor after  business hours, not unless they were somehow in league with  each other. The Space Station Luthor proposal would be of  no concern of her particular office, at least not until  Washington decided whether or not it was interested in  pursuing it. But considering Luthor's possible connection  to the explosion of the Messenger, her visit was very  suspicious. As soon as she had seen Baines enter the  building, Lois had made her way to the EPRAD office,  curious as to what she might find. A hard connection  between Baines and Luthor might just be the piece of  evidence she needed to bring Luthor to justice once and for  all.

Picking the lock to the building was almost too easy.  Entering, she made a cursory check for cameras or infrared  sensors, but was not too surprised when she didn't find  any. Security on non-military government offices on the  whole was pitiful, a full decade behind current technology.  She made her way through the office quietly, slipping on  her night vision goggles, going to great pains that nobody,  be it a passing pedestrian or curious neighbor, might know  that there was anyone in the building.

Dr. Baines's office was clearly marked and easily  distinguished from the rest of the rooms. It had all the  signs of someone who held a distinctive position: leather  and dark colored wood decorated the office in a manner  quite contrary to standard government policy. It was enough  to make the average American taxpayer instinctively cover  their wallets, appalled at the tax money that had been  applied to such lavishness. Wood filing cabinets stood  against the wall, and Lois picked the simple locks and  started looking through them immediately. She then made her  way around to the large cherry desk, pocketing possible  evidence as she went.

It took a couple hours to rifle through all the cabinets  and drawers. While some indication of shady practices  showed up, there was no mention of Luthor in anything she  saw. Her searches often turned up dry, and while it left  her disappointed, Lois always left feeling more determined  to get to the bottom of what was truly going on. Tonight  was no exception. Some records had to exist of the  interaction between Luthor and Baines, it was just a matter  of finding them. As frustrated as she was, there would be  no firestorm tonight, either. Lois was willing to bend the  law to bring Luthor down, she was never willing to destroy  the property of others. The building would be spared, but  she needed to go to pains to ensure that nobody ever knew  she had been there. Before leaving, Lois did a thorough  check of the building, making sure that everything was left  exactly as it was found.

She finally slipped back out into the night. Her footsteps  echoed off the nearby buildings, but there was nobody there  to hear them. The moon overhead cast faint shadows on the  street, creating more bright spots that usual. Lois  expertly dodged them, seeing out the darkness that, until  so recently, had been the essence of her being, a part of  her soul. She might have superficially shaken the shadows  away, but she would always be one with the night, so long  as Luthor continued to work his evil on the people of  Metropolis and the world.

***

Clark closed his eyes and did a barrel roll in the skies  high above New Troy, his cape fluttering vigorously in the  wind behind him. It would definitely take some time to get  used to that cape, but the incredible feeling of freedom  that came with being able to openly use his powers was  exhilarating. Nobody had seen his new persona yet, but that  would soon change, he was sure. One cry for help was all he  needed, and he would make his presence known to the world.

In the distance, a bell tower struck the quarter hour, and  something jogged in Clark's memory. He was supposed to meet  Samuel Platt in a few minutes, he remembered, bringing the  flood of thoughts relating to the messenger disaster back  to him. As much as he would love for the new hero to make  his debut that night, the Messenger story had the potential  to affect many lives, as well as the future of the space  program itself.

Clark shot through the air, making his way out of the  country toward the city. The murky waters of Hobbs Bay  loomed darkly amongst the twinkling lights of the rest of  Metropolis, swallowing up the surrounding area into its  gloom. The warehouse district around the bay, once a major  hub of commerce, was now crumbling due to neglect. The  elegant liners that had once graced the docks were long  gone, and so was the prosperity that they had brought.  Today it was a dreary, crime-ridden place, home to the type  of crime that his new persona would be dedicated to  fighting. A man like Dr. Platt should have no business  being in such a place, but considering everything he had  gone through, it was probably the best he could do.  Fortunately, there didn't seem to be much activity in the  area tonight.

He landed in a dark, deserted alley and quickly changed  back into his normal clothes. For the time being, he put  his clothes on over the spandex suit, the darkness of the  night making it very difficult for the bright blue of his  spandex suit to be seen through his business shirt. He was,  in general, a modest person, and normally even the thought  of changing clothes in public would make his cheeks burn,  even if he could do so fast enough to not be seen. Still,  if he wanted to make being a superhero work, he had to find  some way to shed some of his modesty. It would definitely  take some effort, he thought as he exited the alley and  made his way toward the door of the warehouse where he had  agreed to meet Dr. Platt.

"Dr. Platt?" he called out as he pushed the rotting door  open, his voice echoing around in the massive warehouse  interior. His eyes didn't need to adjust to the darkness,  and he could easily see the state of disrepair that the  building was in. Bricks and mortar dust littered the floor,  having fallen from the walls. The roof in the far corner of  the building had caved in slightly, letting in a few rays  of brilliant, silvery moonlight. It was a wonder the  building was still standing at all, Clark thought as his  eyes came around to the back wall of the warehouse. A short  wall fenced off a section of the interior, small trinkets  and some discarded trash making it evident that someone had  been there fairly recently. A flickering light was coming  from the other side of the wall.

"Dr. Platt?" he asked again as he lowered his glasses to  take a look into the small room beyond the wall. The  flickering, he quickly saw, was from sparks of raw  electricity jumping from live wires. A man sat slumped over  in a chair, his bare feet resting in a puddle of  electrified water. His face was turned away, but his  clothes were the same as Clark had remembered from earlier  in the day.

Clark ran toward the door leading into the room. It looked  as if a tornado had hit the small space - papers were  strewn about, books were pulled haphazardly from their  bookcases, and small tables and chairs had been overturned.  In the center of it all was Dr. Platt, his face oddly  peaceful among the chaos. Clark reached down to feel his  pulse, but the electric lines draped into the bucket at  Platt's feet made it plain that there was no need. A  feeling of sadness came over Clark as the realization that  he had probably, at least in part, contributed to Platt's  death. If someone had been following Platt and had seen him  meeting with a reporter, he probably would've wanted to do  whatever possible to make sure that no meaningful  information was exchanged.

Platt had been murdered, Clark was sure. Whoever it was had  most likely been looking for the same report that Platt had  wanted to give Clark, given the destruction of the room,  but it didn't look like they had succeeded. Activating his  x-ray vision once again, Clark scanned the area. Whoever  had ransacked the area had been a professional, he noted as  he looked around. There were no fingerprints on anything,  not on the overturned furniture, not on the wires, nowhere.  To someone walking in on the scene without any frame of  reference on the situation, it could appear that Platt's  death had been a suicide. There were no visible signs of  abuse on his body that Clark could see from his careful  scan, and there was nothing holding him to the chair. He  was a known recluse, a drug abuser in everybody's eyes, and  had certainly been known to act crazy at times - even those  that did at least know of him would find suicide to be  plausible. But Clark, above all people, knew that it  couldn't be, that Platt had enough genuine regard for the  people who would be traveling on the Messenger to want to  live long enough to make things right.

Moving his eyes carefully around the room, Clark eventually  found a small, cylindrical void under the concrete slab  that contained a folder. The void opened up in the side of  the concrete at the back wall of the warehouse, and could  only be accessed by removing a loose brick in the wall and  reaching down and around. Clark dropped to a knee and  reached down to pull out the folder, feeling the paper  inside protest as he did. Bringing the folder out into the  flickering light and blowing off the thin layer of dust  that covered it, Clark made note of the fraying edges of  paper sticking out - it looked as if the rats had had a few  snacks at the papers' expense. He didn't need to disturb  them any more than he absolutely had to, he decided as he  quickly read the folder's contents using his special  abilities. Transfixed, he read them a second time. The  original memo that Platt had written, the response, the  subsequent termination letters, all were contained within,  and all had been just as Platt said. Here in his hand was  partial proof of the story. All he would need to do now was  get the physical proof, and to do that, he would need to  read up on his rocket science and take a quick trip to  Florida.

The excitement Clark felt at the prospect of his first big  scoop faded as he looked up and saw Platt's face, his eyes  open and looking directly at Clark, seeming to convey a  quiet note of acceptance. He had died for his convictions,  but that he should end up helping to save the lives of  others was enough, he seemed to say. At that moment Clark  vowed to do whatever he could for those who would soon be  making the trip on the Messenger, in Platt's memory. It was  he, after all, who had brought Clark the information in the  first place, on nothing more than a blind, chance meeting.

The folder of papers still clutched in his hand, Clark  stood up again and reached into his coat pocket, retrieving  the cellular phone he had purchased that very day. Dialing  911, he looked at Platt, giving him a small nod. He would  not rest until the Messenger was safe again.

***

By 7 AM the Daily Planet newsroom was beginning to bustle  with life. Clark looked up from his computer screen, making  note of the increased activity for the first time. He  looked at his watch and was surprised to see how much time  had passed. It had seemed like mere minutes ago that he had  finally left the police station after being questioned  thoroughly about his involvement with Platt. He had  immediately headed to the Planet to write up the story, a  task which had taken him mere moments, especially since,  with the sparseness of people in the newsroom in the very  early morning hours, he had let himself write it at faster  than human speed. That done, he had embarked on the  researching cooling systems for rocket boosters. It was  engrossing, even while being a very dry and technical  subject, and he had soon found himself immersed in it. He  was blessed with a photographic memory and just enough  mechanical talent to make it all understandable, and images  passed across his vision, clearly spelling out the words on  the pages in front of him. One text followed another as the  hours blurred together, until suddenly the night had been  chased away completely, and the aromas of brewing coffee  filled the newsroom.

As his mind separated itself from the books and adjusted to  the world around him, he began to plan out his events of  the day. It was a good thing that he didn't need much sleep  - he didn't think that he could fit it into his schedule at  the moment. He needed to fly down to Florida and examine  the spacecraft, and try to prove to himself that the last  piece of Platt's puzzle fit. That done, he would go to  Perry with his story. That was somewhat of a risky  prospect, considering how outlandish the tale sounded, but  since the reporters actually assigned to the messenger  story hadn't actually found anything better, Perry might be  willing to let him give it a shot. At that point he would  have to do some detective work, finding out what Lex was up  to and what his connection was to Baines was. Maybe, just  maybe, sometime while doing this, he would be able to enjoy  the company of one Ms. Lois Lane for lunch.

The thought brought a smile to his face, and Clark absently  put his hand to his chest. Immediately felt the tightness  of the spandex under his shirt, and his smile quickly  faded. He still had the costume on under his clothes. With  all the people coming into the building, he thought as he  pulled his jacket tighter around himself, and the bright  sunlight beginning to pour into the large newsroom windows,  it was only a matter of time before someone would notice  the bright blue fabric under his white shirt. His heart  began to race as he pondered the calamity that would bring.  Ralph, especially, would be merciless, and soon the word  would be all around the newsroom. His life as a crime  fighter would be over before it even began. And, he  realized, he was still wearing the same clothes as the day  before. Clark had reputations for many things throughout  the world, but slovenliness was not one of them. He needed  to go back to his makeshift home and change, and with any  luck, nobody would even notice he was gone.

His mind made up, Clark got up and quickly headed for the  stairwell. As his hand reached out for the door, he heard a  feminine voice call his name. Startled, he turned, and saw  a woman standing in front of the elevator, pushing a  wheelchair with a young girl in it. The woman seemed  distressed, frantic even, and as he watched, she looked  desperately around the newsroom, blindly calling his name  again. His mission was momentarily forgotten as he went to  comfort this woman who, for whatever reason, was looking  for him.

"I'm Clark Kent," he said loud enough to catch her  attention as he approached her. She turned to face him, and  for the first time, he could see dried tears on her face.

"The article in the paper this morning says that you found  my husband," she said as she reached out for his arm. He  made no attempt to stop her, instead trying to be as  comforting as he possibly could. He had a couple of smaller  articles in the paper that morning, but only one had  anything to do with finding anyone. The realization of who  this was brought back the sadness that he had felt so  acutely earlier.

"You're Mrs. Platt?" he asked, and she nodded.

"This is my daughter Amy," Mrs. Platt said, indicating the  girl in the wheelchair. Clark knelt down so that he was at  eye level with the girl, noting that she seemed amazingly  calm. It could be that the reality of her father's death  hadn't really sunk in, or it could be that she was holding  her pain inside. In any case, Clark tried to smile as he  regarded her.

"Hi Amy, my name is Clark. How are you?" he asked, his  smile rewarded with a shy grin from her.

"Mom says that you're friend of my daddy. Is that true?"  She was so innocent, he thought. The look in her eyes was  so hopeful, almost as if she expected him to bring her  father out for her now. He couldn't do that, but neither  did he have the heart to tell her the awful truth.

"Yes, I was a friend of your father's. He's a good man,"  Clark answered, his voice soft yet strong for her. At her  smile, he stood up and ushered Dr. Platt's wife to the  small reception area near the elevators. She sat on the  couch and Clark sat beside her, waiting for her to broach  the subject that she had come to ask about.

After a few moments of staring at her lap, Mrs. Platt  brought her eyes up and regarded Clark for a moment. "It  had always been Samuel's dream to work for EPRAD. He  confided in me once that his favorite childhood game had  been playing the astronaut, I guess he never really let  that go. He was very good at what he did, and he truly did  enjoy his work. Then, suddenly, this Messenger project came  along," Mrs. Platt said her voice soft. As she continued, a  steeliness began to creep into her voice. "One day  everything had been fine, and the next he's found in a dark  alley and charged with drug possession. My husband never  touched illegal drugs in his life, and the fact that anyone  who knew would think that he had was absurd. But EPRAD used  it as a reason to get rid of him. In the span of days, his  career was gone, his reputation was gone, and strange  things began to happen around our house - vandalism, phone  calls in the middle of the night. Someone had managed to  get into our finances, to charge things to our private  account and drain us of all the money we had spent years  saving. Samuel became paranoid and started looking over his  shoulder all the time. Eventually he left, to spare us the  suffering that we were being put through because of  everything. That was a month ago."

She turned away, a ghost of a tear forming in he eye. "He  told me what he suspected had happened. It broke my heart  to hear his stories. We had held up such high expectations  for the Messenger and its mission. The scientific  achievements that the mission could bring would be  beneficial to all mankind, to Amy." She tenderly looked at  her daughter, bringing her voice to almost a whisper. "When  I heard that you found him, I had to know. The police think  it was suicide, but...." She stopped and found his eyes  with her own.

Clark gave her a reassuring smile. "I don't think that it  was. I think that he was murdered, because of what he knew  and what he told me. He wanted nothing more than to save  the Messenger, and I plan to use his information to do just  that."

Mrs. Platt closed her eyes and sighed. "Thank you, Mr.  Kent. I know it's what Samuel would've wanted." When she  opened her eyes, she looked over at her daughter again. "I  just hope that it's not too late."

Clark turned his gaze to Amy Platt and contemplated what  this mission must've meant to their whole family. While he  had always thought of the lives of the men and women  actually flying on the ship, he had never even considered  the scientific benefits that the mission would bring.  Diseases that had been untreatable for the longest time  could finally be cured, diseases like that which obviously  afflicted this young girl. Suddenly, the urgency of his  quest to save the Messenger grew, and he knew that the face  of Amy Platt would continue to drive him to finish his  investigation.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Kent," he heard Mrs. Platt  say. She had stood up and had gone to Amy's wheelchair when  a thought occurred to him.

"Do you have anyone to talk to about this?" he asked her as  he stood.

She seemed surprised for a moment. "Samuel was the only  family we had, but I'm sure we'll make due the way we  always have," she said. She was a strong woman, that much  was evident. Despite all that had been handed her, she had  never lost faith in her husband and in the mission which  had the potential to cure her daughter.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he fished out the business  card that Lois had given him the day before. "I know  someone who specializes in helping people in your  situation. If you would like to talk to her, I would be  happy to escort you there," he said, holding the card out  to her.

Mrs. Platt took a long look at the card, seemingly in  conflict over whether or not she should accept his offer.  After a moment she looked up at him again and nodded. "Yes,  I think I'd like that," she said, and the three of them  headed toward the elevator.

***

The Lost and Found Agency was not quite as Clark had  imagined it. He had envisioned an office in a commercial  district somewhere, sterile, like most of the other places  of that kind that he had been in or heard about. But what  he had found was a very warm and welcoming brownstone in a  well-established neighborhood, a place that had been well  loved. Mrs. Platt and Amy had seemed comforted by the  atmosphere, and by Lois's sister Lucy, who immediately  ushered them into the parlor and treated them like family.

Lucy had seem mildly amused when Clark had introduced  himself, and he wondered exactly how much Lois had told her  about him. That Lois cared enough to tell her anything was  a positive sign, he supposed. A part of him had hoped that  Lois would be there that morning, and he had actually felt  butterflies begin to stir in his stomach on the taxi ride  over, but there was no sign of her at all. Without her  there, he felt no need to stay; he felt almost as if he  were intruding on an intimate moment between the Platts and  Lucy. He decided that it would probably be best to get on  with the errand he had been about to embark on earlier, and  had started to turn toward the door when he saw someone  walking down the main stairwell.

He almost forgot to breathe as he watched the figure  descend the stairs. It was Lois, and she appeared to have  recently gotten out of the shower. Beads of moisture shone  lightly on her skin, and her damp hair hung down around her  face, in some places clinging to her neck, making her look  sensual in a way that he hadn't thought possible. Her  clothes were casual, implying that this was not a morning  for business. She continued down the stairs, her eyes  focused downward, until she finally noticed that she was  not alone. As soon as her eyes met Clark's, she stopped. He  could sense something in her gaze, something that said that  she had almost hoped he would be there, as crazy as that  sounded. The thought brought a one-sided grin to his face,  which was returned wordlessly by her. They stood, just  looking at each other, for the longest time, before she  finally took the initiative to speak.

"What brings you here?" she asked softly, mindful of the  voices coming from the parlor, as she descended the  remainder of the stairs.

Clark nodded toward the other room. "I met some people  today that I thought might benefit from your agency, so I  brought them here."

She seemed pleased by that, but her puzzled expression  prompted him to continue. "It's a long story, really.  Suffice to say, I've had a long night."

She looked down at his chest, and for a moment he felt his  pulse begin to race at the prospect that she might see his  costume. "I thought those were the clothes you wore  yesterday," she said quelling his fears. "So do you want to  tell me about it over some coffee?" she asked.

"I'd love to," he answered, feeling the skin below his eyes  stretch as a broad grin formed on his face. Normally he  wouldn't want to bore her with the details of his  investigation. He supposed that it would probably be best  if he kept his discoveries of the night before confidential  until he was sure of their authenticity, but something  about Lois made him want to tell her.

She headed toward the back of the brownstone, and Clark  followed, eventually finding himself inside a kitchen. As  Lois poured two cups of already brewed coffee, Clark had a  seat at the table. It dawned on him that she was, in fact,  a private investigator, and he might do well to ask her  advice on how he should proceed. A part of him rebelled at  the thought, selfishly wanting nothing more than to have  this major scoop all to himself, to prove to his colleagues  that he really was worthy of working at a paper like the  Planet. Those thoughts were quickly squelched, though, as  the emotional voice of Mrs. Platt reached his ears once  again. What was truly important in this instance were the  people who could be harmed if he let his ego get in the way  of solving the mystery of who was trying to destroy the  Messenger. Lois had much more investigating experience than  he did, and he had to admit, the prospect of working with  her sounded like it could be fun.

A steaming mug of coffee being placed on the table brought  him out of his thoughts. Lois was now sitting across from  him, looking at him expectantly.

"So tell me about your night," she said before taking a sip  of her coffee.

Clark gave her a small smile and reached for the cup in  front of him, formulating how he would proceed while taking  a careful drink of the brew, being cautious to act as if it  were hot. Setting his cup down again, he proceeded.

"Shortly after lunch today, I was met by a man who said he  knew what happened to the Messenger. To make a long story  short, he is now dead, probably murdered, and the story he  told gains more and more credence the further I look into  it. I spent all night talking to the police and  researching..." Clark stopped as he noticed his companion  staring past him, her eyes darting back and forth,  obviously lost in thought. "Lois?" he asked, catching her  attention once again.

Her gaze was very calculating, almost hard. "You know what  happened to the Messenger? Who was behind it?" she asked.  The intensity of her words and in her eyes made Clark  pause, and he wondered why she had such an extreme interest  in the subject. They had never really talked of the kind of  cases that she took on, but he had assumed that they were  similar to the one that she had shared with him at the  Planet. Still, why would a private investigator have such  strong concern over a case that was being investigated by  the best scientists and reporters in the country? It just  didn't make any sense. He was about to ask her, when he  noticed those intense eyes boring into him, making him  somewhat uncomfortable. Whatever the reason, he could tell  that she found it important, and shouldn't that be reason  enough?

Yes, supposed so, but...how much did he really know about  her? Did he know enough to trust her with his big scoop?  Did he know that she wasn't involved herself? He mentally  shook himself at that thought. He had always been a fairly  decent judge of character, and Lois just didn't seem like  the type that would intentionally harm anyone. She hadn't  necessarily proven to be worthy of his trust, either by  actions or deeds toward him. At the same time, though,  trust was a two way street, and somebody had to take that  leap of faith. There wouldn't be any harm in telling her,  he finally decided.

"Corrupt scientists at EPRAD. Dr. Antoinette Baines is the  main culprit inside the government. She was aided by  someone outside the agency named Lex...."

"Luthor," Lois said, making Clark stop. Although it was  only two short syllables, Clark could easily hear the  hatred for the man dripping in her voice. A shadow seemed  to flit across her face, and for the first time, he thought  he could see some sort of dark side to Lois. Her eyes  narrowed, her lips curled up into a sneer, and the muscles  around her jaw clenched up. The woman that sat in front of  his didn't seem to resemble Lois anymore, and the effect  was almost frightening. It only lasted momentarily, though,  and before he could blink, the Lois he knew was back in  front of him. He wondered briefly if it was all in his  imagination, a figment of his sleep-deprived brain. When  Lois spoke again, her voice seemed pleasant enough,  although he noticed that she no longer had any trace of a  pleasant smile on her face.

"Lex Luthor's name appears in connection to so much violent  crime in this city, you'd be surprised. One of my ongoing  investigations is on him, and I suspected his connection to  the Messenger case. If you have any evidence that might  implicate him, I would be willing to aid you in your  investigation in exchange for it."

So that was it. He briefly wondered about the extent of her  investigation of Luthor, but quickly dismissed it. The  thought of working with her on the case was a pleasant one,  no matter what her motivations were. It might be a nice  chance to get to know her a little better. Clark smiled. "I  would like that, yes. My evidence right now isn't the most  firm, but I plan on doing something about that soon."

Lois still didn't return his smile. She was looking past  him again, at a blank spot on the wall that only she could  see. "Lois, are you all right?" he asked after a moment.  Her eyes were drawn to his once again, and then she  immediately looked toward the ground. In the brief moment  that their eyes had met, he could feel a series of intense  emotions warring inside of her. Without a second thought,  he pulled his chair toward hers with one hand, reaching out  to her with the other. He finally made contact with her  cheek, relishing the cool, smooth feel of her perfect skin  as he cupped his hand around her jaw.

"It's okay Clark, really," she said, not moving under his  touch.

"No, I don't think it is. I'm sorry if I brought any of  this on, I just thought that...."

Her head came up, and he could see pain on her face. It was  the outward expression of the type of emotional pain that  he had felt himself so many times. Surely someone with as  much life inside as she held didn't deserve to have to feel  that kind of hurt. He felt a strong sense of loathing for  whoever it was that had caused her grief, be it Lex Luthor  or anyone else. He was overcome with the sudden need to  comfort it all away, to make her feel better.

While pondering what he could possibly do to ease her  hurting, he felt his body respond, giving him his answer.  He began to lean toward her, closing his eyes as his mouth  neared hers, silently giving her the final choice as to  whether or not she truly wanted what he was about to give  her. In the matter of a second he felt her moist lips on  his, gentle at first, then gradually more intense. All the  pain she held was being transferred into a deep, intense,  almost desperate kiss. He had wanted to be gentle and  loving, yet she was devouring his mouth, causing him to  respond in kind. Later, as he pulled apart, he noticed that  at some point during their kiss they had become entwined,  their arms wrapped around each other, their fingers buried  deep in each other's hair. She appeared to be stunned, yet  satisfied, a sentiment that he shared. Never in his life  had he become lost in a kiss, had he let his carefully  maintained exterior fall away when in the presence of a  woman.

"Are you okay now?" he asked. It was intended as a serious  question, but he could hear the slightly teasing note that  he had inserted into the words. He wondered how she would  respond to that, but he ended up not needing to worry.

"Yes, thank you," she said breathlessly. They drank in the  sight of each other before breaking contact. His hands  immediately flew up to his head, straightening up his now  tousled hair. She did likewise, and it suddenly became  somewhat awkward between them.

"I, uh, can meet you at Noon at the Mars Caf‚ downtown. We  can compare notes then and see where it takes us," she said  giving him a small grin.

Clark nodded. "Yeah, okay. I think I'm going to go get my  research together. Let Mrs. Platt in the other room know  that if she needs anything else...." Clark said quickly as  he stood up and straightened out his clothes.

"Will do," Lois said, also standing. They smiled at each  other for a moment before she escorted him back to the main  door of the brownstone.

"See you at noon," he said as he left.

"See you," he heard her say as he walked away, still dazed.  He needed to go home and analyze what had happened back  there. It was something, that much he was certain of, and  it was wonderful. Maybe by the time noon rolled around, he  could figure out what. He couldn't afford to spend all his  time pondering their moment together, however. He had a lot  of work to do before noon, and, he noted as he looked down  at his chest, he still needed to go home and change.

With a faraway smile on his face, he walked until he was  well out of sight of the brownstone, at least, out of sight  to the ordinary eyes. As he ducked into an alleyway, he  stole a glance over his shoulder, using his enhanced vision  to find Lois, still standing by the door, staring into the  blankness of the door with a finger on her lips and an  unreadable expression on her face. She was so beautiful, so  strong yet vulnerable at the same time, just like he was.

Clark finally leapt up into the bright blue morning sky,  moving quickly enough to avoid detection, bound for his  apartment, a plan of action forming in his mind. Even as  fast as he could move, it was not nearly long enough until  lunch for all he needed to get done.

***

A series of thoughts coursed through Lois's mind as she  stood in front of the door, staring unseeingly at a knot in  the wood. All she saw were the smiling eyes of Clark Kent,  the intelligence and regard that they held, all directed at  her and her alone. How was it that he could break down her  defenses, making her feel things that she had never dared  to feel before, making her do things that she had only done  in the fantasies of deep sleep?

She didn't know why he had trusted her enough to tell her  about his scoop, and likewise, she didn't know why she told  him that she was investigating Luthor in connection with  the Messenger disaster. As far as he knew, she had no  reason to be involved in that case at all. It was only  inevitable that he would ask what her connection to it was,  and when he did, she didn't know what she could possibly  say. But there had been a longing inside of her, something  that wanted nothing more than to spend more time with him,  to work with him on this. It could only be beneficial to  both of them, couldn't it?

Maybe it did make sense that they should work together, but  she still couldn't understand how she had let her feelings  get away from her in front of him. Just the mention of the  name Lex had unleashed everything, opening herself up to a  flood of emotions like she hadn't felt in a long time.  Grief, sadness, determination, and loathing had all swirled  around inside of her, for no apparent reason. The name Lex  was said in her presence all the time, by the announcer on  the TV news or in passing conversation, but it didn't  generally elicit such a reaction. Yet in the presence of  Clark Kent it had, and it had surprised her. But even more  surprising than her reaction was his, his simple compassion  for her, which she could see so plainly when he looked at  her. Throughout the years she had seen others' pity, their  sadness for her situation, but never had it felt as genuine  as it had when it was offered by Clark. More than  compassion, he had offered his comforting words, and his  touch, and his lips. They had loomed so tantalizingly  close, she just couldn't resist.

She had been kissed before, once or twice, and she had  never found it to be a particularly enlightening  experience. But his kiss had been almost hypnotic, and  under its dizzying spell she had lost herself. It was  almost as if she had felt safe for the first time inside  the harbor of his embrace, and she had never wanted it to  end. Once reality came back to her, though, the whole scene  took on a surreal quality, and she almost couldn't believe  that it had just happened. Then he left, but it wouldn't be  for long. They had a lunch date, a WORKING lunch date, she  reminded herself, in just a few hours. What would it be  like between them then? Could they both keep their minds on  business and not on each other long enough to get any work  done?

The thought of work jarred her back to reality, and to the  dark patch of wood in her vision. She could also clearly  hear the anguished voice of Mrs. Platt, the woman that  Clark had brought over, another victim of Lex Luthor's  quest for power and money. The finger that had been resting  on her lips, subconsciously tracing the path taken by  Clark's lips on hers, now dropped to her side, and her  hands balled into fists. When would it end? How many  families would have to be broken up before he was finally  satisfied? Even as she asked herself the questions, the  same ones she had asked herself a thousand times before,  she knew the answer. He would never be satisfied, and until  she could stop him, she would continue to see victims just  like Mrs. Platt.

Clark possibly held the key to stopping Luthor. Lois  wondered how much she should tell him, what kind of  evidence she should reveal. She turned around and made her  way back up the stairs, bound for her den. All the  sensitive information on Luthor was kept there, away from  her downtown office, in a place that could only be accessed  by her and her sister. She punched the combination into the  lock on the door, entering the room and gazing at the  filing cabinets that lined every wall. In those cabinets  were documents that referred to Luthor in connection to  theft, drugs, political conspiracies, and just about every  other conceivable criminal situation. Some were obtained  through legal means, most weren't. Any number of things  could be chosen to show Clark to prove her case about  Luthor, but she didn't want to incriminate herself. That  left very little in the way of conclusive evidence.

Sighing, she slumped down into a large office chair that  sat in front of the desk in the center of the room. After a  moment, her hand slipped under the center drawer of the  desk, gently pulling it open. Inside was a single yellowing  piece of paper, the blurred words written upon it in her  father's strong hand. She lightly picked it up, holding it  at such an angle so that the faint light from the heavily  covered windows turned it slightly translucent, making the  many tear-shaped spots in the paper stand out that much  more. The words on the paper had long ago been committed to  memory, but it always made her feel stronger to read them  herself.

"Dearest Lois and Lucy," it started, then, in her father's  gentle yet direct way, proceeded to tell the long and  sordid story of how he was involved with Lex Luthor. All  the horrible things he mentioned seemed so fantastic. They  were the types of things that would be enough to break a  lesser man, but they hadn't broken him. He had integrity,  and he had the strength of character not to let it effect  his home life while it had all been happening. She had been  so shocked the first time she had read those words, to see  that the world as she had thought of it was not necessarily  based on truth. She had anguished over what she could've  possibly done to help him had she known, how she could've  made it so that her parents were still alive.

"Now that I'm gone, all you need to know is that your  mother and I both loved you with all of our hearts, and  that our deaths were not in vain," the letter concluded.  "No matter what the consequences are to you, it is  important that you always do what is right for your fellow  man, just like we have done. You need to be strong in our  absence; we know you have it in you. Don't mourn for us,  but rejoice in our memories and remember always the love  between us.

"Love, Daddy," the signature was scrawled at the bottom,  just like she had always remembered. Scenes of happier  times threatened to bust through her mind, but all she  could remember was what she felt when she had first sat  down to read that letter. There was a feeling at the time  that she was standing at the edge of a deep, dark  precipice, about ready to be pushed out into the void.  Behind her lay the security and love that came from her  close-knit family, the comfort that she had taken for  granted her entire life. Ahead were dark years, a dizzying  number of foster homes, abuse. At first she had mourned for  the life that she and Lucy had lost, but as time went by  and she fell through that void that she had so feared, she  had hardened to the toils of the outside world, setting her  sights on a future in which she was determined to make the  world a better place.

This letter was her driving force, the thing that kept her  going on a nightly basis. She felt closer to her parents  somehow when she was lighting the fires of justice, knowing  that, ultimately, she was fighting against the man that had  killed her father, doing what was right for her fellow man.  The letter also served as her final link to the two people  she had loved so much. The desk contained other letters  written by them, sent to her at camp or from their exotic  vacation locales. They were all special to her, but none so  much as this one. It had the power to fuel her emotions,  and for that reason, she could not let Clark see it, no  matter how much it would help her case.

Some day, she thought as she gently placed the letter back  into the drawer, maybe he would know about all this. Being  with him just felt so right, and she felt that whatever it  was between them was too special to be denied. But that  didn't mean he would know about her darker side, her other,  less public life. In the meantime, working with him would  hopefully bring closure to it all, letting her finally be  at peace for the first time that she could remember. Then  she could think about the future in earnest, and hopefully  she would see him there.

***

A sea of white covered the perfect finish of the oak table  in Lois's dining room. The table was a family heirloom,  passed on through her mother's family, and her parents had  somehow made arrangements for it to be taken care of until  Lois could finally take possession if it and put it in a  house of her own. It was one of the very few tangible  things that she had inherited, and it was therefore fitting  that it should now hold the key to closure in their deaths.

The past two days had been some of the most intense in her  life. Working with Clark had spurred Lois on, making her  work harder than she would on her own. She could feel the  end coming, and it made her that much more determined to  gather all the evidence she could, to interview scientists  and contractors and track down everyone who had been even  remotely involved with the Messenger. Clark had been  equally busy, using his connections as a reporter with the  Planet to secure the cooperation of scientists at STAR  labs. After showing them Platt's report, they had reenacted  the launch and found that the report was correct. The cause  of the explosion had been deliberate sabotage. The Daily  Planet ran with the story, with Clark getting his first  front page byline.

Lois looked up from the papers she was studying and saw her  partner seated on the other side of the table, lost in his  own examination of their evidence. A smile spread across  her face as she remembered his reaction to seeing his name  under the screaming front page headline. He had tried to be  nonchalant about it, but when he showed her the paper, she  could see him looking to her for approval. She had told him  in her own low key way that the article was brilliant, and  he gave her that stunning smile of his as a reward. That  smile never failed to make her feel warm inside, and that  was no exception, but it had surprised her to find that  those feelings of affection had been overshadowed by an  enormous sense of pride for him. It wasn't that she was a  normally selfish person, but she had never been close to  anyone other than Lucy since that fateful night so many  years ago. They had been each other's only companions,  studying together, helping each other in a true  partnership. She was the only person Lois had ever felt  anything even close to pride for, and she had just chalked  that up toward sisterly love. That she could feel the same  things toward this man who she had known for a few short  days was amazing.

In any case, they didn't have time to bask in their  accomplishments. The physical cause of the disaster might  have been found, but just who was responsible for it was  still not clear. They both knew where the path would  eventually lead, but finding the links in the chain that  led to Lex Luthor was never easy. The scientists at EPRAD  by and large were willing to vouch for Dr. Platt, and many  of them had been less than impressed with Dr. Baines. Some  had come forward with stories of their own about suspicious  behavior from her, about projects that seemed to disappear  overnight, and most damning, about overheard private  conversations from her office.

Hearsay from employees with bad feelings toward their boss  hardly constituted solid evidence, but Lois had expected as  much. That was why she had branched out, talking to other  professional acquaintances of Baines. She and Clark agreed  that for sabotage to happen, there had to be people  involved outside of EPRAD. Engineers with professional  licenses were easily scared into telling the truth,  especially when faced with the possibility of being  reported to the licensing board for ethical violations. By  and large, the engineers agreed that they had thought that  something strange was going on with the Messenger's coolant  systems, but all had felt pressured to disregard their  doubts. Most had also been encouraged to change their  opinions in other ways, mostly through threats of violence.  Interviewing them, Lois could see by just the looks in  their faces that the threats had been real, but like so  many other things, there was no physical evidence of them.

Interviewing the designers and builders of the shuttle had  been two days of nonstop work, but they finally had time to  put it all together, to get an idea of the big picture.  Lois had to admit that Clark did good work. She also had to  admit that, for all her feelings of finality, there was  precious little to link Luthor to the crime. Baines was as  good as convicted, especially after her bank and phone  records had been examined, but the only mentions of Luthor  were from overheard words here and there. Security cameras  on the buildings around the Lexcorp Tower could easily show  that the Baines had been coming and going at odd hours, but  Luthor owned every last one of those buildings, and he  wasn't going to willingly indict himself. Lois had already  tried to make surveillance tapes of her own, but apparently  Baines was no longer visiting Luthor. Lois had managed to  bug the phones in Baines' office, but all that had gotten  her were hours of tapes detailing the legitimate business  transactions of EPRAD. She would've loved to investigate  Baines's apartment, but the building was too heavily  guarded, and too many people were around for it to be  feasible.

"Well?" Lois finally asked, drawing her partner's attention  away from his reading. She gestured at the stacks of paper  and raised her eyebrows, awaiting his opinion. She hadn't  read all of them yet, but Clark had already briefed her on  the important parts.

Clark favored her with an encouraging grin. "Well, I think  Baines is nailed," he said, placing the folder he was  reading from back onto the table. "There is more than  enough here for me to bring to Mr. White."

Lois nodded impatiently. "I'm sure you're right, but what  about Luthor? All this work and we have barely a mention of  his name. We need to do something about that."

Clark appeared thoughtful for a second. Nailing Baines with  the destruction of the Messenger was a breakthrough in and  of itself, and Lois knew that in the newspaper business, a  scoop was a scoop. He had probably already written the  article in his mind, and she didn't blame him for that. If  she were in his shoes, she'd probably feel the same way.  But there was a bigger issue here, and she needed for him  to see that. To delay the investigation into Luthor until  after publishing an article on Baines would be disastrous -  their hand would be played, and Luthor would have more than  enough time to cover his tracks.

"Maybe we should confront Dr. Baines," Clark said, snapping  Lois out of her introspection. At her confused glance, he  elaborated. "If she knows that she's about to take the  fall, she might be willing to confess his involvement. It's  at least a shot, don't you think?"

Lois nodded slowly. She had never been one to take the  direct approach, preferring instead to do all her research  covertly. People couldn't put on airs toward someone that  they didn't know was there, and she liked that. But there  was a first time for everything, she supposed, and if it  meant getting to Luthor, then she was all for it.

They had gotten a few key pieces of evidence together  before leaving, hoping to use it against Baines should she  play innocent with them. They had then hailed a cab and  traveled in quiet contemplation toward the EPRAD office and  Dr. Antoinette Baines, who should still be at work, even  given the late hour.

As the cab pulled up the office, Lois became aware of the  increasing roar of a helicopter's engine. At first it had  been a mere background noise, indistinguishable from the  other sounds of the city, but as they had continued on, it  became hard to ignore. Lois leaned closer to the door of  the taxi and looked toward the sky, catching sight of the  source of the noise coming in for a landing on the roof of  the very building that she and Clark were about to visit.

"Clark!" she shouted, pointing out the window. There was  only one possible explanation for the presence of that  helicopter, and only one person who wielded enough  influence to summon it there. The thought made Lois's blood  boil.

Clark nodded once, mutely acknowledging that he, too, had  observed helicopter, before leaning forward and talking to  the driver, signaling that he should pull over immediately.  As soon as the cab came to a stop, Lois was out the door,  sprinting toward the building. She hadn't thought of how  she would stop the helicopter from taking off again, nor  had she even thought of how she would access the roof,  although it had occurred to her that she probably wouldn't  be able to break into the building as she might otherwise,  especially not with Clark around. The only thought she held  was that she was not about to let Baines get away, not  after she and Clark had come so far prove her guilt. Lois  knew that they could go to the police with their evidence  against Baines, and that an arrest warrant would be put out  her, but that wasn't enough. Baines had killed those people  on the Messenger for no other reason than her own personal  gain. Worse yet, she had fraternized with Luthor, and lord  only knew what they had done together, although Lois had  her suspicions. That made her Lois's enemy, and it also  made her an important link to the man she had sought out  for so long. All Baines had to do was utter those few small  words, the ones that implicated Luthor in the scheme, and  the closure that Lois had been searching for would finally  be found. Then, she thought with a twinge, she could  finally live the type of normal life that she had always  dreamt of, and she could give all of herself to Clark.

Lois didn't waste her time trying the front door, knowing  full well that it would be locked. Quickly running around  the side of the building, her means of access to the roof  was found, in the form of a fire escape. The ladder dangled  a story from the ground, but a dumpster sitting underneath  the structure would allow her get high enough to grab onto  the ladder and pull herself up. Still in a full sprint, she  leapt off the ground onto the dumpster, steadying herself a  moment before leaping again, this time for the fire escape.  As her hands met the rusted metal, she summoned all the  strength inside of her and pulled herself up onto the lower  platform. The adrenaline pumping through her body made it  surprisingly easy, and it was only a matter of moments  before she was running up the steps. The metal of the fire  escape, long since oxidized, groaned under the force of her  footfalls, swaying unsteadily with each step, but it held.  She kept her pace and climbed, until she was able to see  the blades off the helicopter cutting through the air above  the roof. The rest of the helicopter materialized as she  finally reached the top, just in time to see Baines being  pulled into the cabin.

The fire that had fueled Lois in her journey to the roof  began to burn hotter. Rage that she had almost forgotten  about was beginning to break through, and she could feel  her legs burning with effort as she ran toward the  helicopter, which now almost seemed to burn red in her  vision. The rush of the air around her in the wake of the  spinning blades would be terrifying to most anyone, but she  barely felt it. Her focus was solely on the cabin, and the  blonde women whose eyes now met her own. The smugness in  those eyes was hard to mistake, and it only made her rage  grow. She would get into that cabin if was the last thing  she did, even it meant holding on for dear life as the  helicopter flew high above Metropolis. She put her hand  out, and her fingers met the handle of the door.

The helicopter was lifting off, but she didn't care. Her  grip began to tighten around the metal, and she felt a  sense of gratification. She had made it; the final part of  her journey was now literally in her grasp. Then, suddenly,  in less time than it would take to blink, she found herself  in a sitting position in a corner of the roof, far away  from where she had just been.

She had to blink a few times as her mind tried to adjust to  what had just happened. What HAD just happened, she  wondered? Almost as soon as the thought had formed, she  caught sight of someone who hadn't been on the roof a  moment earlier. A man in blue and red stood next to the  helicopter, almost exactly where she had just been. It was  far away, but she could clearly see his how form fitting  the costume was against his skin, the blue suit betraying  an almost perfect male physique. He stood tall against the  wind from the rotors, his red cape flapping and twisting  behind him. Then, suddenly, she heard a loud blast, and the  whole area around where he had been standing became  engulfed in a fireball. It was the type of explosion that  would make her proud normally, but this one was not of her  making. She had to shield her eyes from the shrapnel in the  air and the heat of the fire, but as soon as she could, she  looked back toward where he had been, and was surprised to  make out his form, still standing tall amongst the flames.  He was pulling something out of the helicopter, and as she  watched in wonder, he emerged from the fireball, his singed  red cape the only sign that he had been touched by fire,  carrying two darkened forms that could only be Baines and  the pilot.

Gently, he laid them on the roof away from the burning  helicopter, checking their pulses and shaking his head  slightly. It was then that he looked at her, and Lois felt  a jolt of electricity upon catching sight of his angelic  face. His expression didn't change as his eyes locked into  hers, and she couldn't help but wonder what he was  thinking. His dark features seemed familiar to her somehow,  but in a way that she couldn't quite put her finger on.  They looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity  before he finally broke the connection, then turned and  approached the fire. His chest heaved with a huge intake of  air, and he blew out the flames in one great breath. He  then leapt into the air and rose, higher and higher above  the roof, suspended apparently on nothing but the air  itself. As she watched his colorful retreating form, large  spots began to fill her vision, and the sky began to spin  around her. It was only a moment before she finally lost  herself to darkness, letting reality blissfully slip away  from her.

***

Clark flew in a large, lazy circle around Metropolis,  desperately trying to make sense of how he felt. Given the  circumstances, he knew that he should be terrified, or  excited, or guilty, but all he felt was a strange calm. For  the first time in his life, he had voluntarily let someone  see him use his special powers, and it felt...like the most  normal thing in the world. It just felt right.

His current state of calmness was a very strange after  effect of what had happened, he mused. He had become aware  of the helicopter even before Lois pointed it out in the  cab, and he was as anxious as she to confront Baines. But  he certainly hadn't expected Lois to take off for it with  the fury that she did. As she ran from the cab, she left  him behind to pay the driver. He had only turned his back  on her for a moment, but in that time, she had practically  scaled the entire height of the building. Jogging after  her, he had again wondered what her extreme determination  stemmed from. If he didn't know any better, he could almost  swear that she was obsessed with this case. He could see it  in the way she studied the papers, in the tone she got in  her voice when she interviewed witnesses on the phone, in  the way the little setbacks seemed to upset her so deeply.  She had given him subtle glimpses into a whole other side  of her personality, but he wasn't going to let that scare  him away. Looking up toward where she was, he was struck  once again by her beauty, the kind that wasn't necessarily  external, but which stemmed from somewhere deep inside of  her.

It was then, as he watched her climb onto the roof, that he  heard a sound that didn't seem quite right. If it hadn't  been for his abilities, he wouldn't have been able to hear  it at all. As it was, he had to strain to hear it above the  roar of the helicopter. Lowering his glasses, he quickly  scanned the roof of the building, taking a sharp intake of  breath as he finally found the source of the sound. A bomb  was mounted on the helicopter, its timer shielded in lead  and audibly counting down to a detonation time. Worse yet,  Lois was still running full bore toward it, oblivious to  the danger that she was putting herself into. In a matter  of seconds, that helicopter would explode, and there was no  doubt in his mind that everyone on that roof would be  killed.

His reaction had been automatic. It was only that morning  that he had decided to wear the suit his mother made under  his clothes, in the off chance that he might need to be of  assistance to anyone. As his hand flew up to loosen his  tie, he thanked the stars for his foresight. In the blink  of the eye, he changed into his new guise, all thoughts of  modesty long since forgotten. With one quick movement, he  raced up to the roof of the building and gathered Lois into  his arms, moving her across the large expanse of roof, away  from danger. With her safely out of the way, he returned to  the helicopter. Just what he intended to do next was not  clear, and as he came to a stop in front of it, he had a  brief moment of indecision. Dr. Baines and the pilot were  still inside, but so was the bomb. Pulling the two of them  out of harm's way would be the natural thing to do, but in  the time it took to do that, the bomb might explode. The  resulting ball of fire would be disastrous, engulfing the  building in flames and sending shrapnel flying through the  air. While he was confident that he could extinguish the  resulting flames, he didn't want to take the chance. If he  could remove the explosives, fly them up above the world  where they couldn't be of any danger to anyone, then he  could save possibly millions of dollars worth of property  damage, and ensure that Baines, the pilot, and Lois were  all safe.

It took him a mere fraction of a second to reach his  conclusion, but as he reached for the bomb, he saw that it  was too late. He could feel the rush of air being drawn in  toward the impending fireball, and as his hand raced toward  the explosive device, the flames burst around him. He was  moving fast enough that time had slowed, and the fire  seemed to spread slowly, dancing around him on the currents  of air. The sight was hypnotic, like nothing he had ever  seen before, and for a moment he found himself transfixed.

The sound of a woman's scream reached his ears, and a  feeling of horror washed over him as time slammed back into  its normal pace. He had intended to leave Baines and the  pilot in the cab for the safety of everyone, but now, with  hesitation, he had not only failed to prevent property  damage, but he had harmed them as well. While it was true  that he didn't necessarily care for Dr. Baines, he  certainly would never dream of doing such a thing to her.  Overwhelming guilt began to wash over him, and he felt the  sudden desire to flee, to get away from it all, but he  quickly pushed it away. While he was wallowing in his own  guilt, two people were burning to death inside the  helicopter, and every moment they remained there, their  lives slipped away even further.

A new sense of urgency overcame him as he reached into the  cabin. The smoke and flames engulfed everything, making it  hard for him to see, even with his enhanced vision. The  heat was enough to cause him discomfort - he could only  wonder at how it must affect someone without his abilities.  Upon seeing the bodies of Baines and the pilot, his  question was immediately answered, the expressions of pure  anguish on their faces making it clear. His hearing tried  to locate their heartbeats, but he couldn't find them, not  on top of the roar of the flames and the whine of the still  rotating blades above them. He scooped the bodies up, one  in each arm, and carried them away from the destruction,  laying them gently on an unaffected part of the roof. As a  matter of habit, he reached to feel for a pulse, and shook  his head as he realized the futility of the gesture.  Futility certainly was the name of the game lately, wasn't  it? Since he had decided to take on this new persona of  his, he'd seen three people die in front of him that he  could've saved if he'd have been a little more aware. The  guilt and grief welled up again as he wondered whether this  was what the life of a hero entailed. Death, destruction,  and victimization - all had happened while he was  supposedly on the case.

The melancholy lingered for a moment, until he became aware  of another presence on the roof. Turning his head, he found  himself staring right into Lois's angelic face, and the  negative thoughts about his new guise quickly fell away. He  had saved a life - Lois's. Without him, she would surely  have been just as dead as the two people at his feet. It  was hard to imagine a flame as bright as that which burned  inside of her extinguished, but it would've been, if not  for him. She brought hope to families who had lost loved  ones, she solved crimes with a brilliant mind and a sharp  eye. Most of all, she brought him the most incredible sense  of belonging that he had ever felt. When he was with her,  the isolation that he had felt his entire life fell away,  and there was nothing but happiness.

His heart grew soft as his eyes met hers. The volatility of  emotion that had been present only a few moments earlier  was replaced with complete calm. Jumbled feelings morphed  into a single clarity, and a knowledge of how he truly felt  about Lois, about life, about the path he was now embarking  upon. Without her, he very well might've given up his  attempt at heroism before he had ever really gotten a  chance to start. But she gave him the sense of purpose that  he needed, and the desire to want to make it all work. By  saving her, he had saved himself. A smile threatened to  cross his lips as he remained locked in her gaze, but he  couldn't allow himself that, not in this guise. Remembering  the blaze that burned behind him, he finally broke off the  connection and stood, giving his whole attention to the  fire. With one great breath, the fire was extinguished, and  his new persona's job was officially done.

The sky beckoned, and he had answered its call, leaping  into the air, secretly enjoying the fact that he was  showing off to Lois. And so he found himself looping around  the city once more. The wail of sirens in the distance  announced that the police were on their way to the scene,  and he supposed that he should return. Clark Kent was  expected to be there, and he would have no way to account  for his absence. Without any further hesitation, he headed  back to EPRAD, and to Lois.

***

Part 4

Lois was standing in the back yard of a very familiar  house. It only took a quick glance around to verify that it  was her childhood home in front of her, complete with all  the small touches that had been personally applied by Sam  and Ellen Lane. The day itself was absolutely gorgeous -the  sun was shining bright overhead, the grass was an unnatural  shade of green, and the sky was a deep, clear blue. In the  air was the smell of grilled meat, although the aroma was  like nothing she had ever smelled before. Looking back  toward the house, she suddenly saw her father standing in  front of a large open pit, facing toward the fire, the  metal spatula in his hand reflecting the rays of the sun  into her eyes.

"Daddy!" she cried as she ran toward him. She was at home  and safe, and of course she saw him every day, but  something deep inside of her felt overjoyed to see him all  the same. She thought that maybe she could remember a piece  of a faraway dream, one in which her parents had gone away  and left her and Lucy alone in the cold world, but that was  preposterous, wasn't it? Such a terrible thing could never  happen to her, could it? Still, something almost felt sad  when she looked at him, like it had been an eternity since  she had seen his face.

"Lois?" he asked as he turned toward her, although his  voice sounded nothing like she remembered. In fact, he  sounded strangely like someone else she knew, but she  couldn't quite put her finger on whom. As she struggled to  match a face to the voice, she saw the world around her  begin to fade away. Her hands reached out for her father,  but as she touched his arm, he dematerialized, floating  away on the breeze like a wisp of smoke. Sinking to the  ground, she tried to cry out, but her breath just caught in  her throat. Her daddy was gone all over again. The dreams  had been true, she realized.

"Lois, can you hear me?" she heard again as she felt a  light touch on her shoulder. Forcing her head up, she  looked over her shoulder and saw a familiar face.

"Clark?" she rasped, the anguish she had felt rapidly  falling away as she saw him give her a smile. Then he, too  began to fade away, and she became aware of the fact that  she was uncomfortable. What if this fading world she was in  now was the dream?

"Yes, Lois, it's me. Are you all right?" he asked. She  clung to his voice as a lifeline, pulling herself back to  consciousness. Forcing her eyes open, she saw his face  materialize in front of her. Somehow the sight of his brown  eyes made everything seem just fine, even though she had  the vague feeling that they weren't. She didn't want to  think about whatever it was that had caused her to lose  consciousness, she only wanted to look into that face.  Bringing her hand up to his cheek, she felt the soft skin  under her hand and was relieved. This world she was in now  was most certainly real.

Her touch elicited something in him, and their eyes locked  together yet again. The longing glance he gave her was  unmistakable, and was more than matched by the strong  feelings that began to surge within her. As his face began  to near hers, she drank in the sight of his beautiful skin,  of his soft, jet black hair, of the thick wisps black of  smoke that swirled around beside his head....

Her eyes widened at the sight, and the floodgates opened.  All her memories came back at once, filling her head with  fantastic images that she would certainly never forget  again. There was a man...who flew! And he had somehow  extinguished with one breath the very flames that he had  walked through unscathed. The recollection made her sit up  with a start, narrowly avoiding hitting Clark's head with  her own.

"Did you see him?" she asked frantically, the impending  kiss all but forgotten. She didn't recall seeing Clark on  the roof as the strange man flew off, but she had found it  hard to pay attention to anything else. He was around  somewhere at the time, though. Maybe he saw something that  she hadn't, some way to explain how that man had been able  to do what he did....

"Did I see who?" Clark asked. Lois tore her eyes away from  the smoldering helicopter ruins and stared at him,  incredulous. How could he not have seen the man? He had  been almost impossible to miss in that blue and red get-up  of his. A careful look at Clark's face, though, showed that  he genuinely didn't know what she was talking about.

Lois held up her arm and pointed toward the wreckage.  "That...he...walked through fire...there was an explosion  and he wasn't hurt and he FLEW away and you mean to tell me  that you didn't see ANY of this?" She couldn't tell if the  frustration that was building inside of her came from the  fact that she was the only living soul that seemed to have  seen this man, or if it was the half smile that was forming  on Clark's face in a bemused reaction to her ramble.

He shrugged innocently at her query, and she felt another  long, probably incoherent string of words begin to form  inside of her. But as she opened her mouth to let the  tirade out, she heard someone clear him throat behind her.  Startled, she turned toward the source of the sound.

Two police officers had just cleared the ladder and were  standing on the roof, gawking at the two of them. "She's  okay, but I don't think they are," Clark said to the  officers before pointing to a portion of the roof closer to  the helicopter.

Confused, she looked at Clark again. "I called the police  when I heard the explosion," he said in response to her  silent query. It was odd how he could sense what she was  going to ask, but she was finding that it was happening  more and more often. And, truth be told, she really didn't  mind it that much. She just hoped that whatever mental link  between them didn't reveal to him sides of her that she  wasn't willing to let him see yet. At that, she thought  briefly of her crusade against Luthor, and she suddenly  realized the opportunity she had lost tonight. Baines had  been right there on the other side of the door, so close  that Lois could practically smell her fear, but it had all  gone wrong. Now, if what she feared was true, she would  have to start anew.

"Baines? Is she...." Lois blurted out, drawing Clark's  attention away from the officers. The expression he wore  when he looked at her said it all, and she closed her eyes  in pain as she felt a familiar weight begin to bear down  upon her soul once again.

"Dead? Yes," he said, but she didn't hear it. It felt as if  all the air had been driven from her body, and she couldn't  take a breath. The light at the end of the tunnel had been  beckoning, and she had been more that willing to embrace  it. She had allowed herself to have thoughts of the future,  with Clark, with happiness. And with one great ball of  fire, that future had fallen outside of her grasp yet  again. And as much as she wanted to be with Clark, her  fight against Lex Luthor took precedence, and that's just  the way it would have to be.

She heard him say her name again, and as she opened her  eyes, she saw the concern on his face. She hated the fact  that she felt for him, if only because it wasn't fair to  him. He deserved someone who could give him the love and  attention he deserved, the types of things that she  couldn't give him so long as Luthor was still out of reach  of the law. She had tried, she had hoped against all hope  that this would be the end, but it hadn't been, and life  would go on for her the way it always had before. Alone.  She just had to make him understand that.

She also had to get as far away from those police officers  as possible without raising too much suspicion. They were  currently examining the bodies Baines and the pilot, but  Lois was sure that when they were done, they would want to  talk to her. The last thing that she needed was to be  questioned about an explosion in Metropolis. It would be  hard enough trying to explain why she was on the roof in  the first place, and why she had been saved when the others  had died. She certainly couldn't tell them about her savior  in blue, not if she wanted to have any credibility with  them. They would certainly be skeptical of her story, and  that might give them a reason to dig into her private  dealings, possibly uncovering something that she preferred  to remain hidden.

"Let's get out of here," she mumbled as she began to push  herself up. Clark slipped his strong arm around her to help  guide her movements. He was so considerate, and so strong.  She had never met anyone as physically attractive as him,  and when he was as near as he was now, his presence could  be felt that much more powerfully. But she had to put those  thoughts out of her mind if she were to get on with life.

Without another word, she walked to the fire escape and  climbed down, Clark close behind. He silently followed her  out the alley, to the waiting police vehicle and the small  mob of people around it. One person she recognized from the  local television news, although the woman didn't appear to  have a camera crew anywhere nearby.

"What happened up there?" one of the mob shouted. Lois was  not in the best of the moods, but as she continued past the  reporters, something inside of her made her stop. The  police wouldn't believe her story of the flying man, but  history had told her that the press would believe just  about anything. As much as she wanted to avoid talking to  the cops, the fact that a camera was now trained on her  meant that they could find her eventually and question her  about what had happened. There was no harm in drumming up  some speculation on her new hero now, though, especially if  it meant the police leaving her alone in the future.

"There was a man. He saved me and he saved this  neighborhood," she said. She could tell by the looks on  their faces that it hadn't been exactly what they had  expected to hear, but Lois didn't care. The other aspects  of the story were fairly obvious to anyone who bothered to  take a look toward the roof. Smoldering helicopters didn't  come from just anywhere.

The woman from the TV station pushed her way closer to the  front of the group and shoved a microphone in Lois's face.  "Can you describe this man? What did he do to save you?"  she asked.

Lois furrowed her brow, thinking of the best way to  describe him. If she started spouting off about his speed  or his ability to fly, it might push the envelope of what  they were able to believe. Only one word seemed to  accurately convey what happened without sounding too  absurd. "What he did...it was superhuman," she replied  before walking away from them.

"You heard it here first, folks. An eyewitness described  some sort of Superman saving the day at the Metropolis  offices of EPRAD..." the reporter said as she blended back  into the crowd of furiously scribbling journalists.  Throughout the whole exchange, Clark had remained oddly  silent, and as Lois looked at him again, she could see an  expression on his face that could only be described as  contentedness. He quietly walked along behind her with his  hands shoved into his pocket, oblivious to her or any other  outside stimulus, until they reached the ambulance that had  just pulled onto the scene.

She intended to let the paramedic examine her, but her  progress was halted by Clark's hand on her arm. The feeling  of hot electricity that seemed to course through his  fingers was extremely pleasant, she thought with a frown.  Her body's reaction to his every touch was making it hard  for her to commit to what she needed to do. She tried to  make her face as impassive as possible as she regarded him,  but it was hard as her eyes found his once again.

"Lois, why don't we go out to dinner after this is all  done," he asked softly in that hypnotic voice of his.  Something in his dark brown eyes pleaded for her to accept,  and she felt her head bobbing in agreement. She wondered  what the occasion could possibly be, but, she thought with  a wry smile, it was probably brought on by his deep concern  for her feelings. In any case, it would be the perfect  opportunity for her to finally let him go. She didn't think  she could hold the course much longer, especially not when  every time she looked up she saw those concerned eyes.

Unaware of the fate that awaited him, he smiled at her and  gave her arm a squeeze before leaving her to the  paramedics. It was going to be hard, but she would do it.  Tonight, she would leave Clark once and for all to  concentrate on Lex Luthor.

***

The restaurant he had chosen had come highly recommended  from the friends that Clark had made at the Daily Planet.  The atmosphere was casual enough that Lois wouldn't feel  that it was a date, even though he supposed that's what it  was. Tonight, he thought as he fingered the small box in  his jacket pocket, would be a night to remember for both of  them. Tonight he was going to take the next step.

Lois had seemed upset after the full brunt of what had  happened on the roof of the EPRAD building had hit her, and  that was only understandable. She had had a very traumatic  night, and he supposed that being introduced to  Metropolis's new Superman, as he had now been dubbed, in  addition to seeing Baines pass away, had been painful. He  knew how badly she had wanted to get to Luthor, and now she  would have to keep trying.

Maybe it was because of the sadness in her eyes that he had  decided tonight would be the right night. Something told  him that she needed to know that he cared for her. Still,  all the old insecurities from years of running told him to  be cautious. He didn't even know that his feelings were  returned, but that kiss they had shared a few days earlier  could be taken as a good indicator that they were. Even a  few weeks ago he would've waited a little longer, been a  little more careful, but for some reason, it seemed that  the adoption of this new persona of his instilled him with  more confidence then he had ever felt.

He had returned Lois back to her brownstone after the  police had finished interviewing her, giving her some time  to freshen up before they went out. In the ensuing time, he  had run some errands in anticipation of seeing her again.  He had also taken a quick flight around the world. It was  strange how when you were in love it colored your  perception of everything around you. Tonight the world had  seemed so beautiful, so alive, that he could barely stand  it. The snow in the Andes had glittered a pure white color,  its crystals refracting in the sun into a million tiny  rainbows. The lush Central American rainforests teemed with  life, their exotic plants and animals interacting with each  other in a never ending game.

Yes, the world was a beautiful place, he thought, but  nothing was so beautiful as the woman who sat in front of  him. He had finally given up even trying to resist his  feelings for her. There was no point, not when her every  action stirred him to the core. It absolutely defied all  logic, yet it was true nonetheless. He was in love.

Looking at Lois as she sat across from him, he wondered  again how she felt toward him. Her smiles were friendly  enough, but there was a sense of gloom around her this  evening that he hadn't seen for a long time. When they had  first met, he had sworn he could see a dark cloud around  her, following her every movement, and putting a shadow  behind her eyes. As time went by, it had faded away, but it  was back again tonight. It had to be related to their  investigation of the Messenger disaster, and more that  likely revolved around her mysterious connection with  Luthor. He wondered again what had happened to her to  affect her in such a way, but he shook his head to clear  the thought. There were better things to concentrate his  energies on.

They engaged in pleasant conversation throughout the meal,  and she let glimpses of her humor poke through her dark  mood from time to time, only convincing him that what he  was about to do was indeed right. Things he would say to  her to broach the subject had been running through his mind  since the moment he had decided to go through with it, yet  so many of them sounded empty and corny. But, then again,  wasn't love corny to begin with? He would have to make a  fool of himself eventually, he decided, it was just a  matter of when. The goofy smiles and longing glances he had  sent her way were more than doing their part to make him  seem the lovesick fool already, what was the harm in going  a little further?

As their desserts came, he decided that it was time. Her  fork sunk in to her double fudge cheesecake, and he reached  into his jacket pocket and gently pulled out the small box.

"Lois," he said softly, relishing the way her name sounded.  Lois. He had never known anyone with that name before he  had met her, not in all the countries that he had traveled  in. Perhaps that was because the fates had decided that it  would be reserved for the one person in the whole world  that he was meant to be with.

Her fork stopped its progress through the dessert as she  looked up at him. There was a strange look in her eyes, and  he realized too late that there had been a tinge in his  voice. It was possible that she interpreted the emotion  wrong, he thought as he gave her his most reassuring smile.  "I wanted to ask you something," he continued as he dropped  his eyes to the box in his lap.

Taking a deep breath, he brought the box into her line of  sight, slowly setting it across from her. As he looked back  up at her again, he saw a wide-eyed expression of shock on  her face.

"Clark, no. I have to tell you something first..." she  started but then stopped as he held up his finger. Whatever  she had to say, it had to wait. He had started, and he  wasn't about to stop now, not even if the earth opened up  and swallowed him whole.

"Lois, working with you the past few days has been like a  dream. I've been all over the world, met more people than I  could ever possibly count, yet I had always felt alone.  When I met you, though, something changed. For the first  time in my life, I feel like I've connected with someone,  with you. That's why I wanted to ask...." he gestured for  her to open the box.

Lois had sat perfectly still as he spoke, her breath still  held in anticipation of telling him whatever it was that  she felt the need to say. At his gesture, she slowly let  out the breath and reached up toward the box. Her hand was  shaking ever so slightly as it took off the lid, and he saw  a smile begin to form on her face as she saw what was  inside.

She poked her finger inside the box and chuckled as she  took out the gold chain. Dangling from the end was a worn  gold ring, the deep scarlet stone on the end scratched from  years of wear, yet the words 'Smallville High School' still  readable on the side. "Lois Lane, will you go steady with  me?" Clark asked, the smile on his lips reaching his voice,  obviously lightening her mood.

Lois held the ring up and examined it closely for a moment  closing her hand around it. The chain dangled from her fist  as she looked down at the table for a moment, the smile  fading from her face. She seemed to be lost in thought, and  Clark began to feel anxious. He had been so certain before  that she would accept, but now he wasn't so sure.

He could feel his own smile begin to falter as he awaited  her answer, but at last she brought her head up and locked  her eyes into his. "Clark Kent, I would be honored," she  said, and then beamed at him as she slipped the chain  around her neck. Her true smile was such a rare thing, he  thought, and probably for a good reason. The light of her  being that was emitted in that smile was brighter than that  of a thousand suns, but he knew that he above all men could  handle it. He wished that he could see it more often, and  vowed that he would do everything within his power to make  it so that he did.

"So, are you gonna eat that cheesecake, or can your new  best boyfriend have a few bites?" he asked as he reached  out and moved the vase at the center of the table to the  side. Lois's grin grew wider and the black cloud that had  been following her finally went away.

"If you wouldn't mind helping me out, I suppose it would  save me some time on the treadmill later. And they DID give  me two forks with this," she said, waving the extra utensil  in front of him. The ring that now dangled from her neck  bobbed with the movement, and Clark was content. A day that  could've been a disaster had turned out for the best, and  he couldn't be happier.

***

Lois closed the door behind her, something inside of her  sad that the night was coming to an end. Her face was  actually sore from smiling so much, but with Clark, there  was no way she could stop herself. He always seemed to  bring out the best in her, to tap into the real Lois and  let her shine through. The incredible feeling of release  that being with him gave her was beyond explanation, like  she was drunk. She didn't want their time together to end,  and now.... Her hand reached up to her chest and closed  around the gold class ring that he gave her. The gesture  itself had been so charmingly old fashioned, and so  unexpected.

Lois had kept her decision to break up with him close to  her heart throughout the whole date, but she hadn't been  able to bring herself to do it. Then, when he had put that  box in front of her, time seemed to stand still for a  moment. He cared for her, she knew, and she had always just  assumed that his feelings had been the same sort of puppy  dog affection that she thought she had for him. But when  she saw that box, all her assumptions about their  relationship had gone right out the window. He honestly  loved her, she could see it so clearly in his eyes and hear  it in his voice as he asked her the question. How she  hadn't noticed the depth of his emotion before was beyond  her. The revelation of his love had been unsettling to her,  but as she pondered his proposal, she began to realize that  she had underestimated her own feelings for him. As she  drew the chain out of the box, she felt her body fill with  warmth, and she knew for certain that there would be no  break up, that the force of their love was indeed greater  than the evil force of Lex Luthor.

In the blink of an eye, all of her priorities had suddenly  been turned upside down. Her life had been consumed with  darkness, and she had never known a world of happiness, not  after. She had always feared that happiness would displace  the intense emotions that drove her, and she supposed that  was the truth, at least to a certain extent. When she was  with Clark, the world was a vibrant place. Her spirit  soared, and she saw colors and beauty where before she had  only seen shadow. And when he wasn't there, the promise  that he held gave her the extra strength to do what she  needed to do. He represented hope, the pot of gold that  waited for her at the end of the rainbow, and that hope  only made her mission stronger. But the ultimate ends that  her mission brought, now, was not only closure from her  past life, it was the promise of one to come, with Clark.

"Lois?" she heard from the other room, and she smiled  again. Lucy certainly wouldn't believe this development.  She walked across the brownstone, pondering the best way to  break the news. As her sister finally came into view,  though, all Lois could do was grin.

The light mood was infectious. "Do I even want to know why  you look like the cat that ate the canary?" Lucy asked as  she got up to greet her sister. Lois gestured to the chain  around her neck, and Lucy squealed.

"He gave you his RING? Oh my goodness, that is incredibly  sweet," she said after she caught her breath. She examined  the necklace for a moment before looking at Lois, who had  been silent the whole time. Lois just couldn't stop  smiling, no matter how much she tried.

"You are truly lucky to have someone like him," Lucy said,  and Lois nodded. Her smile faded a bit, however, as she  pondered that statement. Luck had never brought her  anything in life before she had found Clark, and she had  assumed that was the way it was always going to be. But of  all the things to have chance bring her, she knew that she  couldn't ask for any better.

"I know I am," Lois replied softly, emotionally. Her head  dropped as her mind slipped back to the years that she had  spent alone with just Lucy. Lois half expected her sister  to be resentful of the break in their united front that  Clark represented - she knew that if their positions had  been reversed, she certainly would be. But Lois knew above  anyone else the incredible reserves of hope and sunny  optimism that her sister held. It had always been Lucy's  place to find the silver lining in every situation, and  Lois supposed that was how she managed to get through all  the unkind years. Up until now, Lucy had been her anchor,  her hope for a better tomorrow, but now Clark held that  distinction.

Taking a look back at her sister, Lois saw that Lucy was  patiently smiling at her, offering her support as always.  Even if Clark was Lois's new inspiration, that didn't meant  that Lucy wouldn't still be there for friendly advice or  encouragement. Perhaps they could have a more open  relationship now, like sisters were supposed to have, like  she saw a glimpse of a few days earlier. It would be  strange, but the change would certainly be welcome.

"And to think, I was going to break up with him," Lois said  with a dry chuckle, causing Lucy's eyebrows to rise in  question. "Things didn't go well tonight," Lois elaborated  as she found the couch and flopped down on it.

Lucy settled into the chair she had been in only moments  earlier. "I can see it all now," she said, a hint of  amusement in her voice. "Things didn't go the way you  wanted, you felt that you had to devote more time to your  search for Luthor, and you decided that Clark didn't need  to be stuck in the middle of that. You had a noble idea of  breaking up with him so that he didn't get hurt somehow,  but...."

"But then he smiled at me, flashed those brown eyes, and  asked me to go steady," Lois said, biting her lip to hold  back the grin that threatened to spread across her face.  All her morbid concerns seemed so silly in retrospect, but  even so, she couldn't help but feel somewhat selfish for  not being completely honest with him.

"He makes you happy. Don't mess that up," Lucy said, the  amusement leaving her voice as she became serious. Lois  only nodded once and settled back into the sofa turning her  attention to the television. There was still ample  opportunity for her to flush it all down the toilet, and it  all hinged on how honest she was willing to be with him.  She wanted to relish what she had now, though. Maybe, after  the sunlight that he brought into her life began to fade,  she would tell him, and maybe he would understand. But  chances were good that he wouldn't, and that was a scary  prospect. Lois closed her eyes and felt the weight of the  ring against her chest, and relished the comfort and the  happiness it brought her.

As she let herself relax, a tone sounded on the television,  capturing her attention. On the screen, a newscaster sat at  her desk, her index finger to her ear, listening to  something for a moment before giving her attention to the  audience.

"We're sorry to interrupt your program, but we bring you  breaking news. Earlier tonight, an explosion and fire  occurred at the Metropolis EPRAD offices, claiming the  lives of Dr. Antoinette Baines, office director, and Rob  Hendricks, the pilot of the helicopter that exploded.  Although an unidentified eyewitness described a man who  saved her life and put out the fire, authorities are  skeptical of his existence. Now, however, it seems that  there is ample evidence to support the fact that this so- called "Superman" is indeed real. We take you now to Dustin  Stein, who is reporting live from the banks of Metropolis  Harbor. Dustin?"

The scene shifted to a man who was standing in the relative  darkness of the outdoors. Behind him were the murky waters  of the harbor, the moon glinting off the wildly bobbing  water, indicating more afoot at sea that a simple breeze.  "Thank you, Rachel. I'm standing at the scene of an  incredible accident that took place just minutes ago in the  harbor. A cargo boat has collided with a large passenger  vessel, and rescue crews have only now begun to approach  the sight. What is truly amazing, however, is that most of  the victims have already been pulled from the water."

The camera panned to some dazed, soggy people who were  leaning up against a neighboring building. A few were being  tended to by paramedics, but most of them were staring  blankly at the sky.

"Excuse me, sir," the reporter said as he made his way  toward one of the rescued men. "Can you explain what  happened here tonight?"

The man's eyes seemed somewhat glazed over, even as he gave  his attention to the reporter. "Well, there was an  incredible scraping sound, then I was in the water, then,  somehow, I was here."

"He flew," the man sitting next to the interviewee  interrupted, gesturing wildly with his hands. "The man flew  us all out of the water."

The reporter gave the second man a patronizing smile and  discreetly gestured for the camera operator to turn away.  Summoning all the false sympathy he could muster, the man  opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly all the color  drained from his face and his jaw went slack. The camera  remained on the stunned reporter for a moment before  quickly panning around, blurring the images in the screen.  When the motion stopped, all of Metropolis could see what  had only been hinted at earlier.

Across the waters of the bay, under the light of the nearly  full moon, a ship was hovering in mid-air, the dark figure  of a man in shadow underneath it. The boat floated toward  land slowly, bobbing lazily on the air currents as  naturally as it would on the water. It loomed larger and  larger as it neared the camera, the crowd on the ground  becoming deathly quiet in awe of the sight. Finally the  craft was placed on land, and the man who had been carrying  it stepped around the side and into the sickly orange glow  of the sodium vapor lights overhead. He looked even more  striking than Lois remembered, the wet from the water  somehow making him seem that much more rugged. As the  camera zoomed in on him, he straightened his back, took a  long look out over the bay, and then jumped into the air,  his red cape billowing behind him. The camera followed him  as long as it could, then turned back to the reporter, who  was still looking toward the sky in shock.

"As you can see," he rasped as he absently held the  microphone to his mouth, "there is a new Super Man in  Metropolis. Back to you Rachel."

"Thank you Dustin," the reporter in the studio said, trying  to be as professional as possible, although her stunned  expression still peeked through the facade. "We now return  you to your regularly scheduled programming."

With that, the show that had been on before popped back up.  Lois again regarded her sister, and saw that she was still  staring in disbelief at the television. All of Metropolis  probably wore the same expression, and Lois found herself  empathizing with them. She remembered what it felt like  only a few hours earlier, when she had first laid eyes on a  man who flew. For a moment this afternoon she had thought  she was crazy, and the nagging self-doubt had lingered even  into her fabulous evening. But now, faced with the same  evidence as the rest of Metropolis, she knew that she  wasn't crazy at all. She couldn't help but feel sad at the  fact that this man, who had previously only appeared to  her, now let his secret be known to the rest of the world.  It was silly, yes, but she couldn't help it.

Lois leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes. Her  frame of reference to life had been changed unequivocally  in one short day. She was now in a steady relationship with  a man, who she had decided to date even though it meant  forsaking part of her lifelong mission. So Lois Lane chose  love over revenge, and there was a man who could fly. It  was safe to say that things hadn't turned out how she had  imagined, but that was what made life interesting  sometimes. And it certainly looked like her life was  getting a lot more interesting by the second.

***

Lois's fingers curled around Clark's hand as they walked  down the street, the unnaturally warm autumn air causing  briefly long for the chill that usually hung in the air  this time of year, if only because it would give Clark a  reason to wrap his arm around her. They had been together  for several months now, yet every night they spent together  was an adventure. Overhead, she could see the moon hanging  in the sky, illuminating the dark streets to the point that  the light of the overhead lamps wasn't really necessary.  Even the stars could be spotted against the black sky, an  unusual thing indeed for Metropolis.

It was amazing how enjoyable the sight of those stars could  be, Lois thought. The sight of them brought back happy  memories of a night not so long ago, when Clark had driven  her out to the countryside, far from the glow that always  seemed to envelop Metropolis. They laid down on the grass  side by side, and he had pointed out constellations and  stars one by one. The practiced ease with which he had  named them all had made her question how he had come to  know so much about the heavens, and after a wide-eyed  moment of silence, he had explained that his father had  taken him out into the open fields that surrounded his  childhood home and imparted all his stellar knowledge.  Under normal circumstances, Lois supposed that she should  feel sad about missing out on experiencing such a thing  with her own father, but she couldn't help but think that  learning from Clark was almost better.

"What do you see?" he asked quietly, giving her hand a  small squeeze, and Lois felt her thoughts brought back to  the present. Diverting her eyes to his face, she could see  that twinkle that was always present in his eyes when they  were together, and she couldn't help but smile at him.

"I was just thinking how beautiful the sky is," she said.  "I don't really get out of Metropolis enough to see the  stars too often. I wish I could go out the country again,  where there's not a living soul for miles, and stare up at  them for hours."

Lois's reference to their night together had not gone  unnoticed, she saw before she looked back toward the  heavens. There were so many simple pleasures in life that  she had never experienced before he had come into her life  - a walk in the park arm in arm with a man, a shared  milkshake at an old-fashioned soda shop, a night in the  country beneath the stars.... Something about him was so  old-fashioned, so sweet and innocent, and he was imparting  that innocence on her. She almost felt like she were  reliving a part of her childhood that she had missed the  first time around, this time with a happiness that had  never been there before.

"I've spent plenty of the nights looking up there, staring  off into the depths of space from places so dark and  isolated that you could only imagine. I wish I could show  you," he said, a faraway sadness creeping into his voice  that she couldn't quite pinpoint. Every now and then he  would get that tone in his voice, almost as if he wanted to  say something to her, but he couldn't bring himself to do  it. Lois could understand completely - there were things  about her childhood that she probably would never tell him,  times that she had no desire to relive again. From all  outward appearances, he had an idyllic childhood, but she  was sure that it wasn't without its fair share of  heartache. If he couldn't or wouldn't share that with her,  then she wouldn't begrudge him that.

Grabbing his arm with her free hand, she cuddled closer to  him, relishing in the feel of his body against hers. "You  have shown me, and I'll never forget," she said, her voice  light.

She could feel his lips gently brush her forehead. "Yeah,"  he said quietly, almost sadly, before slipping into  silence. They walked together like that for a few moments,  a slightly awkward silence coming between them.

"So," Lois finally said, hoping to cut the tension just a  bit. "Did you like the movie?"

It was becoming a tradition that they go out on Friday  nights to dinner and a movie. One week he would choose the  movie and she would choose the restaurant, and the next  week they would switch. It was an arrangement that usually  left them both satisfied, although Lois had to admit that  Clark tended to be better at choosing restaurants than she  was. Sometimes, like tonight, he would take her to his  apartment and then go out to get carryout from some  mysterious place. Sometimes it was Italian, sometimes  Indian or French. Tonight it had been Chinese, the best  that Lois had ever had. She had tried to get him to tell  her where he got it, but he had merely smiled and said it  was from a little place that he knew of. So the movie  choice had been hers, and in partial revenge for his  coyness about the source of the food, she had brought him  to see an art house movie that had been in Portuguese.

"Yeah, it was great," Clark said, the sadness that had been  in his voice almost completely gone. "I thought the jokes  in it lost quite a bit in translation, though."

Lois stopped, causing him to stumble as his arm remained in  her grasp. He seemed startled at his companion's sudden  halt, but that quickly gave way to amusement as Lois  continued to look at him in disbelief.

"You speak Portuguese?!?" Lois finally asked. His face lit  up in a smile as he nodded once. He tugged on her arm and  began to move forward, and Lois found herself falling into  step beside him.

"When you live in Portugal, it helps to know the language,"  he said, and Lois couldn't argue. He had alluded to the  fact that he had lived in places all over the world, but he  had never mentioned that before. And to think, she had  never really left New Troy. He could probably keep her busy  for days telling her stories of his adventures in lands  afar, and she wished that she could hear them sometime. The  fact the he hadn't mentioned it to her before drove home  how much she still had to learn about him.

"What else don't I know about you, Clark Kent?" she asked,  voicing her thought. Immediately she could feel his muscles  tense and release again. It took a moment before he finally  responded.

"You might be surprised," he said, a new edge present in  his voice that she hadn't heard before. As she was going to  ask him about that, he stopped dead in his tracks, and this  time it was her turn to stumble. She looked back toward him  and could see his head tilted to the side, a far off look  in his eyes.

"Clark?" she asked, capturing his attention once again. He  seemed taken off guard for a moment, almost as if his mind  had slipped somewhere else. As his eyes locked with hers,  though, she could see the note of apology in them, and she  knew what was coming before he even had to say anything.

"I just remembered something," he started, but she held up  her hand to stop him.

"What is it? A story? A missed appointment? A video that  needs to be returned?" Lois asked, impatient, listing off  some of the excuses that he had used in recent months. She  released him and crossed her arms across her chest, staring  daggers at him. He might look like the man she knew and  loved, but Dr. Jeckyll had turned into Mr. Hyde once again.  Clark was kind and considerate, loving and sweet and funny,  but when he got that faraway look on his face, followed by  a glance toward her filled with quiet apology, he seemed to  lose all his inherent intelligence and poise. It was almost  as if he couldn't hear how lame his excuses sounded, and he  couldn't see the absurdity of the situations they alluded  to. Who had a doctor's appointment at eleven o clock at  night, anyway?

"I promised to meet a source," he said. Hastily looking at  his watch, he nodded quickly. "I'm late, I have to go now.  I'm sorry, really. I wish I could take you home, but...."

His eyes pleaded with her, and she sighed. She couldn't  argue with those eyes, she never could. She leaned in  toward him and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Okay,"  she said as she pulled away, eliciting a tender smile from  him. His hand came up to caress her cheek, and she closed  her eyes at his soft touch. Then, suddenly, the hand was  gone. As she opened her eyes again, she could see his  retreating form running down the street, then ducking into  an alley.

Alone again, she thought. At least he always abandoned her  in fairly respectable neighborhoods. Did anyone else have  problems like this, she wondered. Was it a case of cold  feet on his part? Did men just run away whenever they felt  that things were getting too serious? To Clark's credit, he  always came back, but it was just strange how out of place  this nasty habit of leaving at odd times seemed. As  connected as their minds were, he never left any clue as to  where he was going or what he was really doing when he  left, and it bothered her. But she had kept her mouth  closed, especially since she had the habit of doing the  same type of thing to him. If she had a pre-arranged time  to investigate Luthor or his associates, she would leave to  take care of that, no matter what she and Clark were doing.  She could see in his eyes that this hurt him, and for that  she was sorry, but she just couldn't feel too apologetic  about leaving to pursue such an important cause. Maybe what  he was going to was equally important.

He hadn't answered her question, she realized. What else  didn't she know about him? Apparently quite a bit. She  wondered if he would ever tell her all his secrets, of if  she would ever have the guts to tell him hers. They would  have to eventually, if they were to ever grow into a truly  close relationship. As much as she loved him, she didn't  know if she could take this for very much longer.

Lois looked at her watch, making note of the hour. Now that  he was gone, she supposed she could use the opportunity to  do some work of her own. Taking one last glance up at the  sky, she smiled at the sight of what appeared to be a  shooting star streaking across the heavens. Maybe this  night wouldn't be so bad after all.

***

The unusually warm autumn wind whipped around in the dark  alleys of Metropolis, carrying debris on its currents from  points far away. A single, large maple leaf floated around  the corner of the Lextech industrial warehouse, spinning  itself in a small cyclone before finally making contact  with an individual dressed in black. The sensation that the  contact brought was enough to jar her from her task, and  she bent down to examine the leaf. Such distraction while  working would've been frowned on by her earlier in her  career, but things had changed. Now she stopped to enjoy  the simple wonders of life, like the brittle, orange leaf  that now lay at her feet. Twirling the stem in her fingers,  she studied the veins of the leaf in the dim light,  following them as they branched out infinitely, creating a  symmetrical web that was beautiful in its simplicity. Such  common parts of nature were rare in the concrete jungle  that was Metropolis, and she wondered momentarily how it  had come to be in this part of town, but she dismissed the  thought as quickly as it had come. It was far better to  observe and enjoy, things that she had only recently  allowed herself to do.

Tossing the leaf back into the breeze, it occurred to her  that her more relaxed personal attitude threatened her  professional life as she knew it. She used to be so  focused, but no longer found her work to be as interesting  as she once did. Stepping away and letting herself smell  the metaphorical roses should result in a sense of release,  and in a way it did for her, but it also caused her anxiety  on these nightly excursions. She found that she no longer  wanted to hide in the shadows, that she no longer wanted to  patiently hold back and wait for her nemesis to come into  her circle. She sought out the sun, the finer things in  life, and was growing further and further away from the  pain that had been a staple of her existence for so long.

It was with a heavy heart that she broke into the building  tonight. Evidence had surfaced the suggested a strong link  between this warehouse and the sabotage of the Metropolis  Nuclear Plant. Most of the clueless masses of the city had  believed Luthor's claims that Superman was causing the heat  surges in the city, but anyone with any respect for  scientific theory had easily seen that the correlation was  circumstantial at best. Her Clark had seen that  immediately, and he had written a series of touching  articles supporting the hero, but the fact remained that  nobody could seem to find the source of the heat wave. But  Lois had her suspicions, and that's what brought her here.

Lois had to admit that Luthor's attempts at getting rid of  Superman were certainly clever. She could understand why he  would want the omnipotent hero out of his grasp - in the  months that Superman had been on the job, he had been  pecking away at the corners of Luthor's empire. Superman  represented a movement for good in Metropolis, a spirit of  rejuvenation that the city had desperately needed. Thanks  to him, crime was down for the first time in over twenty  years, and the populace actually felt safe walking on the  streets at night. For a man who thrived on scandal, who  pulled the strings of the crime world like a great master  of puppets, this represented a challenge, and Luthor was  never one to back down from a challenge. Fortunately,  neither was Superman, it appeared.

Personally, she had conflicting feelings about the hero. It  was true that he saved her life, and for that she was  grateful. He also didn't seem to be fooled by Luthor's  public persona, she could tell just by looking at his face  when the billionaire philanthropist was in his presence.  The way that the corners of his mouth turned down ever so  slightly, even when he was trying to smile at Luthor, and  the way his eyes narrowed when he looked at him gave away  Superman's contempt for the man that Lois had spent so much  of her life pursuing. She would love to have a moment alone  with the city's new hero, if only to tell him her tale, to  get him on her team, and to get his help in bringing Luthor  down. She also had to admit that he was the most strikingly  handsome man that she had ever laid eyes on. But he was  also the most virtuous person that she had ever met, and  she had no doubt that he would take her immediately to the  police if he knew the types of activities that she engaged  in after hours.

Her fictional meeting with Superman was not a concern right  now, though. Giving herself a mental shake, she got back to  disarming the security system on the building. It only took  a minute and she was in the door. The interior of the  building was a vast, open space, with shelving stacked  almost to the ceiling. Boxes sat on palates on those  shelves, stretching out into infinity in front of her.  Finding spare parts to a nuclear reactor in there would be  nearly impossible if she didn't know where the inventory  lists were kept.

The types of things held in the warehouse were incredible,  she thought as she scanned the list a few moments later.  Everything from store inventory to Luthor's personal  artifacts were kept somewhere within these walls. Spotting  the item she was looking for, she quickly made her way  across the vast concrete floor and to a section of smaller  boxes. She supposed that if she really wanted to take the  time, she could find some pretty spectacular things in  those boxes, but she was only interested in one thing. She  located the correct box, and pocketed the small object it  contained. It was amazing how one simple little piece of  hardware could cause so much destruction, but after tonight  it should no longer be a problem. It would be hard to  explain to the police how she had obtained such an item  without them being suspicious of her, but she didn't intend  for them to ever know it was her who had given it to them.  She supposed that she could write an anonymous letter  leading them to the warehouse and the part it contained,  but she was sure that by the time anyone acted on it, that  Luthor would have covered his tracks. Even now she couldn't  prove that he had personally ordered the part to be placed  there; all she could do was remedy the situation that its  removal had caused.

She took a look around the building, her eyes once again  scanning the aisles and stacks of valuable merchandise,  before taking a large explosive from out of her coat. She  had been curtailing her arson of late, but the opportunity  to bring this much destruction on her nemesis was just too  good to pass up. She had no doubt that some very valuable  items to him were kept somewhere among the boxes, and it  caused a tremor of pleasure to think that she could bring  him a sense of loss. Arming the bomb was no problem, and,  with the timer set to allow time for an escape, she made  her way out of the building.

She was two blocks away by the time the explosion hit. The  concussion of the blast always brought a smile to her face,  and this was no exception. There was something comforting  about the crackle of the fire behind her, and the knowledge  that with the flames came the destruction that she so  craved against Lex Luthor. A new sound came tonight,  though. As the orange flames licked the sky, a sound like  thunder ripped across the sky, and the fire stopped. The  scene was oddly like a night several months earlier, a  night that Lois now realized was the true premier of the  city's new Superman. She had been fortunate that night to  get away without him recognizing her. In the ensuing time,  he had left the few fires that she had set alone, and she  had hoped that it would stay that way. All good luck had to  come to end, as they always said, and it appeared that this  was the night that hers did, she thought as she slunk into  the shadow of a nearby building.

As she focused her attention away from the warehouse, she  became aware of a presence on the street that hadn't been  there before. She gasped as Superman stepped into the light  of the streetlight in front of her, although in retrospect  she figured that she shouldn't have been so surprised.  Unlike the business district where he had put out her other  fire, the warehouse district didn't house the vagrants.  Apparently some areas of town were too seedy for even them,  and the warehouse district, known more for its crime than  anything else, was one of those places. So she was all  alone, and caught red handed. She supposed that, faced with  imminent capture, she should give herself up. But in front  of her stood Superman, and the perfect opportunity to talk  to him. She would have to try and get him to see things her  way, but she had to be intelligent about it, and she had to  keep her identity if at all possible.

A cold chill ran through her as she realized that, should  she be brought in, Clark would find out about her arson the  hard way. They had been going out for several months now,  yet she still hadn't found a way to tell him. Every time  she would try, she would lose her resolve as she gazed into  his innocent eyes. Being told that she was in prison for  arson would be a terrible blow to him. She knew how in love  with her he was, and she knew the strength of his  convictions, and she was afraid that she would come up  short if he were forced to choose between the two. That  only strengthened her conviction to get Superman to see the  ultimate good of her intentions, and if possible to avoid  being captured.

Gazing at him up close, seeing the tightness of the blue  spandex of his outfit over his well-defined body, Lois felt  her stomach lurch. It was far too easy to fall into the  trap of getting tongue-tied when in his presence, and she  suspected that she wasn't the first woman to feel  butterflies when looking at him, but she needed to stamp  down that desire if she were to get anything accomplished.  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she shrunk further into  her coat as she sought out the depths of the shadows around  her. What could she say to catch his attention, she  wondered. It would have to be something that he would find  worthwhile to listen to, not mere idle chatter. And she  thought she had the perfect subject matter.

"So you're the man that Lex Luthor finds so threatening.  I'm surprised his tests didn't scare you off," she said,  making her voice husky in an attempt to disguise it. A  smile spread across her face as she saw his eyes  momentarily go wide with shock. He quickly regained his  stony composure, however, crossing his arms across his  chest, but making no move to apprehend her.

"Lex Luthor is no concern of mine right now," he said in  his most confident tone. Lois didn't know how, but  underneath his deep, hero-like tone she could sense  insecurity of some sort.

"Oh? Do you realize that was his warehouse that you just  saved from being a total loss? In that building were his  personal items, his business inventory, and probably  millions of dollars in merchandise. Those were  irreplaceable items of his that you just saved," she  replied, feeling smug when she saw his eyes narrow. When he  didn't immediately speak, she continued.

"You know the kind of monster that Lex Luthor is, I can see  it. You know that he was behind the Messenger explosion a  couple months ago. You know that he is causing the heat  wave in Metropolis to try and drive you out of town. I bet  you want to bring him down so badly that it hurts."

Superman was trying hard to keep his composure, to seem  indifferent in the face of her soliloquy, but his fa‡ade  was breaking down quickly. His weight shifted from foot to  foot, and his jaw clenched. Yes, she was hitting the nail  right on the head. It was nice to know that her judgment of  character was still just as good as it had always been.

"I can help you get him," she continued, taking a small  step forward, feeling bolder. "I've spent my life trying to  find that one piece of evidence that will be his undoing,  finding the chink in the armor that I know is there. I've  dedicated myself to making him suffer for the suffering he  has given to the people of this city. Help me, Superman. We  can get him, together."

Superman's eyes were distant. He took a couple deep  breaths, causing his massive chest to heave up and down, a  sight that Lois found to be hypnotic. In his crossed arms,  she could see his hands clench into fists, and she thought  for a moment that she had succeeded. But that moment soon  passed as he began to speak, a new confidence in his voice.  "You're the person who's behind the string of unsolved  arsons." It was a statement rather than a question, and  Lois quickly saw that she was not dealing with someone who  lacked for intelligence. "And no matter how right you think  the ends are, arson is illegal. I pity the fact that you  have devoted so much of your life to such misguided ends,  and I will have to bring you in to the authorities."

Superman took a long stride in her direction, and Lois felt  her shoulders slump over. She had been so close, but now it  would be all over with. Her bottom lip began to tremble as  she pondered what her life would be like in jail. But then,  suddenly, Superman stopped in mid step, cocking his head to  the side ever so slightly. Lois felt a strange sense of  d‚j… vu as she watched him intently listening to something  very far away for a few seconds, before turning back toward  her.

"It looks like you're off the hook for now," he said, his  voice impassive, before taking off into the air. Lois  watched the fading blue streak shoot across the dark night  sky before she slumped against the building next to her.  That was close. Way too close, as a matter of fact. She  supposed that she should be counting her blessings, but she  couldn't help but feel disappointed that she hadn't gained  the cooperation of Superman. Now he'd be on the lookout for  her, and she'd have to be doubly careful. It occurred to  her that it might be a good time to finally give up her  life as an arsonist, but Luthor was still free. And she  wouldn't give up this life until he was put away.

Steadying her nerves, she gathered her spirits and pushed  off from the building. Home would never look so sweet, she  thought. It was definitely time to seek out Luthor, to  finally get her evidence together and actively pursue him.  She wanted a more normal life, and she wanted her freedom.  And it all began with alerting the police to a bit of  evidence she found at a burned out warehouse.

***

Part 5

Even from high up in the air, it was easy for Clark to  locate his balcony. In the few months he had spent in  Metropolis, it had come to feel like home, and he found  that his simple apartment held some sort of magnetic draw  on his consciousness. Tonight it beckoned especially  strongly, and he was more than happy to see the balcony  loom larger and larger in his field of vision.

It had been a very long night, to say the least. It had  started out the way that so many had, with one of his  impromptu dates with Lois. When they were together, they  laughed and chatted, and he forgot his insecurities just  long enough to enjoy her company. Her perspective on life  was so different from his own, yet she seemed to have the  same thought process as he did. They were the same yet  different, and connected at some molecular level in a way  that he found incredible. Being with her made him happy,  yet he couldn't escape the feeling that there was something  missing from their relationship. He knew quite well that  those empty feelings could come from the fact that he still  hadn't told her his biggest secret. She didn't know the  things he could do, or the fact that he spent his nights  flying over the city in a blue spandex suit. But it was  almost as if she could sense that he wasn't telling her  something, just like he could sense that she wasn't telling  him something. It was only fair, he supposed. If he felt it  necessary to have his secrets, then she must surely be  allowed hers. Even so, those secrets were slowly driving a  wedge between them, and it was only a matter of time before  the strain on their relationship would become too much.

Their date ended as they always seemed to lately. He had  heard a distress call from across the city, and so he made  a quick excuse to leave. The excuses always sounded hollow,  whether it was him making them or her, but they always  accepted them from each other, then parted ways with a  hasty kiss goodnight. The first emergency call had been a  gruesome highway accident, and that had done nothing to  improve his mood. Even using his speed to its utmost, it  had taken an hour to clean up the vehicles and assorted  auto parts strewn all over the roadway. Then came the call  for a fire in the warehouse district.

In his guise as Superman, he had probably apprehended  hundreds of criminals. There were times when the arrests  were tough, times that he could see the hardship he was  causing to families by arresting their loved ones, times  that he could tell the criminal was unstable. But he had  never let sympathy cloud his judgment, and the fact that  wrong was wrong. Tonight had almost been the exception. The  woman in black, whoever she was, had hit on his one  weakness with singular cunning.

Clark knew the evil that was Lex Luthor, and it truly  surprised him that more people didn't see it. Lois saw it -  that was another one of the things he loved about her. She  wasn't fooled by his exterior, like so many others were.  Neither was the woman in black, apparently, and that fact  made her dangerous. For all appearances, Luthor was a man  who seemingly did a lot of good for the city, but he had  been a persistent thorn in the side of Metropolis's newest  hero from the very first night that he had appeared on the  scene.

That first night held a special place in Clark's heart for  many reasons. The scenes were so vivid inside his head, the  sensations so real and unique. Although he knew that he was  invulnerable to most stimuli, Clark had never felt the  force of an explosion. Although he had saved lives, he had  never saved one that was so precious to him as Lois was.  And he had never allowed his slow reaction cause the death  of anyone, either, as it had that night. Then, later, the  attention of the press had been strange. He had spent his  entire life running from just such attention, but when the  cameras had finally turned on him in his new guise, it felt  good to show off.

In the back of his mind the whole time, however, had been  his investigation with Lois. Something had to be done, if  only if it were a warning shot across Luthor's bow. Clark  might not have had enough evidence to convict the man, but  he couldn't allow Luthor to get away without giving him the  knowledge that the city's newest hero was on to him. It  might be foolish, but it was just something that Clark had  to do.

Flying up to the top of the Lexcorp tower, Clark had landed  softly on the railing, letting himself observe things for a  moment before he made his presence known. The d‚cor of the  office more than anything else seemed to sum up what Clark  perceived Luthor's personality to be. The ostentatious  d‚cor flaunted the money that had gone into furnishing the  office, the decoration obviously done by some of the finest  craftsmen available. Yet, blended in with the rich  trappings were armaments, swords and guns, displayed in  such a way that they seemed to want to blend in with  everything else. But to Clark, those very things stood out  just because they did not belong. They were made of cold,  glinting steel, contrasting with the soft furs and fine  fabrics that adorned the rest of the room. The overall  affect was the addition of an element of danger to the  office. It must be intimidating to those who conducted  business there, adding a subconscious fear of what would  happen should they cross their employer. The irony of the  situation was, of course, that Luthor was as good as his  word on that particular issue.

Clark had no doubt that Luthor had killed Baines. Although  the cargo of the helicopter had been blown beyond all  recognition, Clark had seen inside it enough prior to the  explosion to make him to never doubt the billionaire's  involvement. The callous disrespect for human life that  Luthor seemed to possess angered a fundamental part of  Clark's being, and his blood boiled when he thought of how  many others Luthor had likely killed. It were men like this  that had made Clark's new persona necessary in the first  place, he mused. As much as Clark enjoyed the freedom of  flying and the exhilaration of being able to use his  talents, he would love even more to be able to live in a  world where he didn't HAVE to use those powers.

His resolve strengthened by the affirmation of his  ideology, Clark took a deep breath and jumped off the  railing. Luthor turned his way at the sound, the look on  his face suggesting that he almost expected to see him  there. He started clapping as the patio door opened,  plastering a fake smile on his face.

It was strange that Clark didn't really remember the  conversation that followed. He knew that his butterflies  had gone away quickly, fueled by the reaction that his  speech was getting. The fiery look in Luthor's eyes as  Clark had rattled off the evidence of his guilt was  vindication enough. But then, as Clark finished, Luthor  composed himself and quietly denied the charges. They  stared each other down for a moment, looking deep into each  other's souls, neither of them especially impressed with  what they saw. Luthor brought the brandy glass in his hand  up to his mouth, swirling the liquid around before taking a  sip. Clark will never forget what he said next.

"As they say, let the games begin," Luthor said,  effectively bringing an end to their meeting. True to form,  a few days later the tests had begun. Clark began to doubt  himself, even though he knew that was the reaction that  Luthor was looking for. He probably would've considered  hanging the spandex up for good if it weren't for the moral  support he received from Lois. When he looked into her  eyes, his problems seemed insignificant. She always had the  right words to say to give him the confidence he needed,  and this had been no exception. When he had confessed to  her that he was unsure about his work, she had assured him,  thinking that he was talking about his writing. Her  sympathy would've rung hollow if not for the words she had  used.

"You make a lot of difference in this city; I can see it  already," she had said as she gently stroked his arm. "Your  articles have saved people, and probably helped to improve  the quality of life for many others. And you've helped me."

It was then that he remembered his first real rescue. Her.  If it weren't for the suit and the cape and his decision to  go public with his new persona, she would be dead. No  matter how many lives that Luthor held over his head, it  couldn't change the fact that Lois was living proof of the  need for Superman. That was all the convincing he needed,  and as he kissed her in thanks, all his doubts went away  for good and his resolve strengthened. That would be the  last time Lex Luthor would get to him.

The tests had ended as suddenly as they had begun, but for  whatever reason, the press hadn't caught on to what they  actually were. Even during the current heat spell, nobody  had made the connection to the billionaire. That was why  Clark was so surprised when the woman in black brought it  up tonight. He had listened to her originally out of  curiosity, but as she continued, he could feel himself  getting angry. The words she used dredged up all his  animosity toward Luthor, saying aloud what he had thought  only he knew. As she made her offer, he found himself  actually considering it for a moment. It was only a few  seconds of contemplation on his part, but those were a few  seconds longer than he had any right to.

It scared him think that he actually considered going along  with what she said. If there was one thing that defined the  personality of Clark Kent, it was his ever-present desire  to do what was considered right. He supposed it had grown  out of the loving support of his parents, and was  strengthened by his emerging powers. Everyone got mad from  time to time, but he above all others knew how dangerous  giving into those feelings could be. He had the power to  move mountains if he so desired - what would stop him from  doing harm to the innocents of Metropolis if he lost his  temper? His even temperament was all that kept that awesome  power in check, but tonight it had cracked.

One little fire, he had told himself. One little fire to  one little warehouse could do so much. Luthor wouldn't be  ruined, but he would definitely suffer because of it. What  was the harm? What was the harm in hooking up with that  woman over an extended period of time if it meant that Lex  Luthor wouldn't be endangering any more innocent people? It  was so very tempting to let that seed of hatred he had  toward Lex Luthor grow and prosper. But as he tried to  justify going along with her, his mind finally came back to  the fact that arson was wrong. He had been raised better  than that, and the thought of what his father would say to  him if he even knew that Clark was thinking about  partnering with this madwoman was more than enough to stop  him cold. Giving in to the hatred he felt inside, no matter  how pleasurable it sounded, would be just as wrong as  anything that Luthor had done to him. What the woman had  suggested was illegal, what she had already done was  illegal, and she needed to be arrested.

Clark had turned her down in no uncertain terms, using the  cool professionalism that Superman was famous for. But the  fact that he had hesitated before doing so bothered him  still, even several hours later. He was angry with the  woman for having the gall to try and persuade him, but he  was even more angry with himself. Why had he even allowed  himself to be persuaded? Was he going soft? It was very  possible, given his frustration with Luthor's tests and at  the state of his relationship with Lois. No matter what  kind of fa‡ade that Clark put on while in uniform, Superman  was still able to feel deeply, and that made him  vulnerable.

Clark quickly spun into jeans and a t-shirt and walked into  the living room, slumping down onto the couch. What if the  day came when he and Lois finally broke up? Clark knew that  his heart would be broken, that he would be in the depths  of despair, and that he would probably take refuge from the  pain in his life by donning the blue spandex and taking to  the skies. Heaven forbid the criminal that should cross the  lovesick Superhero. If the woman in black were to find him  on that day, half the buildings in Metropolis owned by the  third richest man in the world would end up being nothing  but charcoal.

Maybe he was being a little bit melodramatic, Clark  conceded. That tended to happen when he thought of the  consequences of things, but he figured it was always better  to be overly cautious. And caution would be what he needed  from here on out. He would also need to be more vigilant  when it came to protecting the city from those who wished  to do it harm. He never liked letting criminals go free,  but when given a choice of whether to apprehend someone  guilty of what amounted to vandalism or saving countless  lives at the scene of an accident, there was no comparison.

In retrospect, he didn't know why he hadn't bothered to x- ray into the darkness and get a good look at the face of  the woman in black. Maybe it was the certainty that he  would be taking her to the authorities, maybe it was pure  arrogance on his part. Either way, when the call for help  had come, he had had to let her go. As he had embarked on  the rescue, his mind kept coming back to what the woman had  said to him, and he found it harder and harder to  concentrate on the task at hand. He had to fight to keep  his wits about him until he was finally able to come home  and process the whole situation.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the  telephone. With a grunt, Clark forced himself off the  couch. "Hello?" he said, trying to banish his dark thoughts  and sound like his normal self. He hoped for a moment that  Lois was on the other end of the line. Given what had  happened to him since their shortened date, he would like  nothing better than to talk with her about the mundane  things they always discussed when together. Even with the  problems between them, nobody could bring him out of a bad  mood better than Lois.

Those thoughts were quickly dashed as he heard the voice  that greeted him. "Kent, Henderson here," a deep male voice  said, and Clark's heart sank. Bill Henderson was one of the  few connections that Clark had managed to procure within  the Metropolis Police Department. They had met on a case  during Clark's first month on the job, and had quickly  formed a friendship based on mutual respect. Most of their  contact, however, was focused around work, and if Henderson  was calling at this time of night, there was only one thing  it could be.

"Hi, Bill. What's up?" Clark asked, determined not to let  his disappointment show in his voice.

"I got a tip here that I thought you might want to hear  about, seeing as have been writing about Superman more than  anyone else at that paper."

Clark opened his mouth to defend himself, but stopped. He  had deliberately tried to distance his Superman persona  from Clark Kent, but that didn't stop him from writing the  occasional article about his alter ego. As much as he had  tried to vary who he talked to, it was apparent that he was  perceived as being THE person who wrote about the hero. He  would definitely have to do something about that in the  next few weeks. But, at the moment, it might be to his  benefit. If Henderson had a tip relating to Superman, Clark  most certainly would prefer to hear it before it got  published in the Daily Planet. "Go on," he said, suddenly  anxious.

"We got this unmarked envelope delivered to the station  tonight - apparently someone dropped it off at the front  desk while the receptionist was away. Anyway, inside it  details the causes for the recent heat wave, and gives the  location of items that would serve as proof of their  theory. I had my boys look into it, and the theory seems to  be spot on."

"So what does it say about Superman?" Clark asked. He  caught himself holding his breath in anticipation as he  waited for the answer. Media frenzy had been worked up over  the heat wave, and it had quickly become obvious to Clark  that someone was trying to make it appear as if Superman  were the cause of it. He knew, of course, that those claims  were patently false. The times in which he publicly used  his powers were only a fraction of his overall use of them.  He used his gifts to do such mundane things as shave and  cook and read every day, but that was hardly common  knowledge. When he used them as Superman, though, he  attracted reporters like flies, and the things he did  inevitably made it on the local news every night. A careful  study of the heat wave data showed that the temperature  spiked when Superman used his powers, but it had been easy  to see that there had been no spike when Clark used his  powers discreetly, while not wearing the suit.

As much as Clark wanted to exonerate himself, he couldn't  exactly present his proof to the public. In recent days,  the citizens of Metropolis had grown parched, and had  naturally become incensed, to the point that the mayor had  ordered Superman not to use his powers at all. Even facing  the risk of jail, Clark couldn't help himself. He had to  help. The ultimatum had only come down today, and Clark had  half expected to see officers waiting for him tonight,  ready to take him away as he finished his rescue mission,  but they hadn't come. Yet.

"Superman apparently has no part in this at all. Seems that  the Lexcorp nuclear plant had been leaking radiation into  the city aqueduct, superheating the whole town," Henderson  answered. Clark couldn't help but smile at the fact that he  could relax a little when he went out in public as  Superman. But the fact that Lexcorp was openly involved in  all this took that smile away almost before it had a chance  to completely form. Luthor was becoming more bold in his  ploy to get rid of Superman, to the point that he wasn't  even trying to cover up his involvement anymore. It was  disturbing to think that Luthor would sacrifice the water  supply of the city to try and capture Clark's attention,  but he supposed it could end up being a blessing in  disguise. The paper trail to Luthor was becoming more and  more concrete. Maybe, just maybe, the man could finally be  put away.

"I'll be right down," Clark said, and then hung up the  phone. This night hadn't been a total loss after all, he  thought. Things could only look up from here, especially  when he brought this new batch of evidence to Lois.

***

A wisp of smoke billowed into the air, swirling in the  outtake of breath before fading away. The aroma it held was  pungent, summoning the feeling of power, a feeling that Lex  Luthor was all too familiar with. His whole essence of  being exuded power, and he tried at every turn to make  others see that. It was the little things he did and said,  the veiled threats intermixed with compliments, the  trophies of his conquests that adorned his office, all of  it combined to give visitors a true sense of just who was  in charge. He didn't become the third richest man in the  world by resting on his laurels, he did it by kicking and  biting and clawing his way to the top. And by vanquishing  his enemies.

It could be said that business was a war, and to the victor  of that war went the spoils. No war was won without going  on the offensive, and in the process Luthor knew that he  had stepped on some very large toes. But he had always been  very careful to know intimately about those he was dealing  with, and he had made sure to ally only with those that  would increase his status. All others were disposable,  especially those who would seek to do him harm. Throughout  the years he had weeded out many undesirables, both within  his company and without, to the point that nobody now would  dare to defy him. At least, almost nobody would defy him.

The one large exception to this rule was a single arsonist,  whose crimes had cost him progressively more time and money  as the years had gone by. Their activities had been small  at first, barely registering on his radar and certainly not  meriting any attention on his part. But the minor vandalism  and theft at his lesser subsidiaries had turned into full- scale arson, destroying whole buildings. Every couple  months another of his businesses would go up in flames, and  valuable resources would be lost. In the grand scheme of  things, the losses were relatively minor. The employees  could be moved, the research could be recreated, and the  equipment could be replaced, but it was the principle of it  that really got on his nerves. By not capturing this person  long ago, they had become bolder and more visible, their  activities eventually garnering a mention on the evening  news. All of Metropolis could see the damage this person  was repeatedly doing, and the name Lex Luthor lost its fear  and stigma with every mention of this person's activities.  The longer Lex let them continue, the more the public  mocked him, and with each damning word, his enemies gained  confidence. He could see the influence he had lost just by  looking in the eyes of the people he met with, by seeing  the way they conducted themselves while in his presence.  This arsonist would no longer be allowed to hold this power  over him, not if he had anything to say about it.

Of course, he supposed that the arsonist was only half of  his current problem. The other half from all appearances  seemed like some strange cartoon, some freak of nature that  could only exist in fiction, but he was all too real, and  he was a persistent thorn in Luthor's side. The Man of  Steel had seemed innocent enough upon their first  encounter. It was hard to believe that someone with such  sickeningly pristine values could be so tough, but Superman  was proving to be quite the challenge. He had already shown  that he had the stomach to stand up in the face of Luthor's  threats, and he had proven to have a cool head in the face  of overwhelmingly negative public opinion. Superman was the  type of adversary that Lex had always almost hoped would  come along, the type that would prove to be a challenge, of  not his equal. It would be interesting indeed to engage in  a continuing battle of wits with this extraordinary man, to  flex his mental muscles and finally make use of all the  resources that he had at his command. It would probably  take years of engagement with Superman before Lex could rid  himself of that problem. The arsonist, though, could be  dealt with in a much more immediate fashion.

It was apparent that the person setting the fires, whoever  they were, had access to inside knowledge that only Lex and  his close associates should possess. This person always  seemed to hit him at the location that was most critical to  him at the time of the attack. But how had they gotten the  information, he wondered. To find his leak, Lex had  concocted a story about some personal belongings, ones that  were supposedly quite valuable to him, that were to be  stored in one of his warehouses in a very low rent part of  town. The story, in varying forms, had been leaked to a few  of his inner circle, and the waiting had begun. The game  was afoot, and Lex couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of  imminent conquest that it gave him. The excitement of the  hunt was one of man's basic pleasures, and even multi- billionaires were allowed to enjoy it.

Leaning back in his overstuffed leather chair, Lex took a  long drag on his cigar, relishing the taste. As he let his  breath out again, he heard a soft, distinctive knock on the  door.

"Enter," he said, not bothering to put on his usual airs  for his guest.

Nigel St. John had been Lex's personal assistant for almost  a decade, and he had proven himself to be quite ruthless  and cunning. Indeed, Nigel had many personality traits that  Luthor admired, the types of traits that made him glad that  Nigel was on his team. And the man did good work.

As Lex regarded his assistant, he couldn't help but notice  the uncharacteristic smile that was present on his face.  "You have good news for me, I take it?" Lex asked,  momentarily curious.

Nigel didn't answer, instead placing a series of  photographs on the desk in front of him employer. "What are  these?" Lex asked, leaning in to take a look. He shot an  amused look toward Nigel, who merely bowed his head toward  the awaiting photographs. The pictures were rather fuzzy,  but Lex could easily tell that they showed a woman, and a  very striking one at that. Her features were delicate,  although there was a look of hardness on her face that Lex  couldn't help but appreciate. He ran his finger over her  cheek and let it linger there, before sorting through the  rest of the photographs.

"These are from the new security cameras you had installed  at the warehouse," Nigel said as Lex looked through the  pictures a second time.

Lex stopped suddenly and gave Nigel a startled look. "This  beautiful creature is our firebug?" he asked.

"Indeed," Nigel responded, causing a smile to form on Lex's  lips. Under any other circumstances, he might be tempted to  pursue someone like this. If she was bold enough to enter  his buildings like she did, then she was obviously a woman  after his own black heart. But as it was, she represented a  challenge to him, and as such had to be done away with.

"These seem to be fairly well defined," Lex said, setting  the pictures back on the desk.

Without missing a beat, Nigel nodded his head once. "I  already have my men on it. They're searching the databases  to match a name to the face."

A smile crept across Lex's face as he leaned back in his  chair once again. "Take care of her," he said, the waved  his hand to dismiss his manservant. It truly was a shame  that a beauty like hers had to be disposed of, but that was  the cost of business. Nobody crossed Lex Luthor without  paying the price, and she was about to find that out.

***

Lois entered her office and closed the door behind her,  enjoying the orangish hue that the sun cast over the  interior. It was cheery and bright, a perfect match to her  mood, she thought as she placed the morning edition of the  Daily Planet on her desk.

"Heat Wave Broken, Superman Exonerated," the headline  screamed. That alone was enough to make Lois smile, but the  byline had been what had truly made her sunny mood. That  Clark should get the story was only right, considering how  much he knew about the evil that was Lex Luthor. Indeed,  the story hadn't been overly kind to Luthor, although the  billionaire, in typical fashion, had denied any knowledge  of the malfunction that had caused the heat wave to happen  in the first place. Clark needed to be properly  congratulated, Lois thought with a smile. Yes, there would  definitely be a celebration tonight, and she would do  everything in her power to make sure that he didn't run out  on her this time.

Lois spent the next few minutes skimming the stories in the  paper, making her usual mental notes about when Lex Luthor  would be where. Although she didn't have any plans to  pursue him this fine day, it was just habit to mentally  track him. Hopefully it would be a habit that wouldn't be  needed in the near future, especially if her evidence came  together like she hoped it would. She could stand to spend  a few more hours investigating the power plant debacle and  tracing the path to her nemesis, but morning was the time  that she worked for her paying clients, and plenty of work  awaited her.

With a sigh, Lois began to tackle the mountain of paper  that rested on her desk. The work was interesting, she  supposed, and it paid the bills, but at least part of her  mind would always be at work on the case that was the  center of her existence, whether she liked it or not. She  never let it interfere with the quality of the rest of her  work, though. The minutes passed rapidly as she worked, the  progress of time easily shown by the shifting shadows on  the floor.

Just as the sun began to slip behind the skyscraper across  the street, the phone in her office rang. Lois grabbed for  the receiver quickly and tucked it between her ear and her  shoulder while she continued to work.

"Yeah," she said, impatient. Her secretary knew better than  to bother her while working, and her sister had no reason  to call. As Lois waited for the response, she began to  mentally formulate the speech she would give her  interrupter, chastising them for needlessly interrupting  her.

The only thing that greeted her, however, was what sounded  like heavy breathing. "Hello?" Lois asked again, her anger  building. Leave it to a crank caller to somehow find her  number out of all those in Metropolis. "Who is this?" she  demanded after a moment, not bothering to conceal the edge  in her voice.

More heavy breathing came over the line in response.  "Listen, I don't know who you think you are...." Lois  started, before she heard someone speak her name on the  other end. She could barely hear it over her own speaking,  but the voice certainly didn't sound familiar.

"Excuse me?" she said, feeling her anger slip away. The  voice might not have been familiar, but it did sound raspy,  anguished, in pain. Her mind began to review who all had  her office phone number, but she could only think of three  names: her secretary, Lucy, and Clark. If anything were to  happen to any of them...well, she didn't even want to think  about how she'd feel.

"Lois," she heard again, and suddenly the voice was  familiar. "Help...."

"Lucy?" Lois yelped over the phone, but she could hear the  receiver being dropped. "Lucy!" she yelled, but she  received no response. Bolting out of the chair, Lois  slammed the phone into its cradle and quickly located her  purse before making a beeline for the door. Her secretary  looked confused as Lois ran down the hallway, but Lois knew  she didn't have time to stop for anything. Lucy was in  trouble, and she had to get home as soon as possible.

The cab ride home seemed interminably long, although the  cabbie lived up to the reputation of cabbies everywhere,  weaving in and out of traffic in a way that would normally  cause Lois to fear for her life. Now she just wished he  would go faster. Lucy could be dying on the floor of their  brownstone right now, but there was absolutely nothing Lois  could do until she got there. She hoped against hope that  Lucy had the foresight to call 911 before calling Lois, but  something deep inside Lois doubted that. She never wished  she had a cellular phone more in her life, and she vowed  that she would get one just as soon as she could.

Her mind kept rerunning the phone call, and she couldn't  help but think of what it meant for her, for Lucy, and for  the future that she had planned and re-planned. She also  wondered why it had happened at all, and how, and whether  it was the cosmos trying to punish her yet again. Lois had  never been a religious person. Indeed, she had always felt  abandoned by God. Surely a good and loving God wouldn't  have taken her parents, wouldn't have let her and Lucy  suffer as much as they had. Many a night had gone by during  her childhood that she had silently cursed His name, but  now she turned inward, closing her eyes and putting her  hands together, summoning the strength to ask His help in  this one thing. She knew that she hardly qualified for any  help from above, especially after being less than virtuous  her entire adult life, but she swore to whoever would  listen that she would change. If Lucy turned out okay, she  would never so much as think a dark thought again.

As she opened her eyes, she saw the brownstone looming in  the distance. From all outward appearances, there didn't  seem to be anything wrong. It could be encouraging, she  supposed, but it also meant that Lucy hadn't phoned the  paramedics. As soon as the cab came to a stop, Lois flung  the fare and a generous tip at the driver and quickly got  out. She was running as soon as her feet hit the pavement,  and she didn't break stride as she entered through the  unlocked door. In the foyer she made herself stop. There  were probably a half dozen phones throughout the house, and  Lucy could be at any one of them. She needed to be  methodical, yet quick as she searched the house. Taking a  large breath Lois took a long stride toward the closest  possible room, then stopped. A large pool of red spread out  across the hardwood floor, and it stretched around the  corner, out of her line of sight. It was hard to estimate  how much blood it was exactly, but it was certainly a lot.  She had never seen so much in her life, and she had hoped  that she never would. If there was blood, it could mean  only one thing, she thought as she steadied herself. She  tried to swallow, but she found that her throat had seized  up. With a mental nudge, she made herself move forward,  toward the sight that she knew was there, but she didn't  want to see.

She had to reach out for the wall as she saw the whole  scene for the first time. She opened her mouth to scream,  but all that came out was a squeak. All at once she felt  sick and weak, and the room started to spin around her. At  the center of it all was her sister, bloodied and battered,  lying on the floor beside the phone that she had used to  summon Lois. Lois's eyes were intrinsically drawn to Lucy's  face, and she was surprised how peaceful it looked. Her  sister was always an angel, the pretty and virtuous one in  the family. She was such a wonderful person, and she  probably could've truly made something for herself. Lois  couldn't bear to think of the nieces and nephews she would  no longer have, of the heartfelt conversations that  would've been, and of the smile that would no longer  comfort the lost and lonely soles of Metropolis.

The distant chirp of the phone finally caught Lois's  attention drawing her out of her funk. As her eyes were  drawn toward it, her brain kicked in again, reminding her  that it was entirely possible that her sister was still  alive, and that if she was, she needed an ambulance pronto.  Without further hesitation, she reached out for the  receiver, gently nudging it out of her sister's hand. She  dialed 911 and spoke calmly to the operator, trying to  maintain the cool, public exterior that she always held.  But as she hung up the phone and placed it gently back on  the table, she felt her legs go weak.

Before she could blink, Lois was on her knees, kneeling  beside her sister. The tears welled up in her eyes as she  reached out toward Lucy, laying a shaky hand on her  forehead and wiping away a stray lock of hair. Her skin  felt so clammy, Lois thought. It was almost cool to the  touch, a sure sign that Lucy was probably, well...Lois let  out a sob as her mind finally let out the thought that she  hadn't wanted to hear. Dead. Lucy was probably already  dead.

Lois crumpled in on herself, not caring about the sticky  wetness that was beginning to soak through her clothes. She  didn't think it was possible to feel such hurt again, but  it seemed she was wrong. The sobs turned into wails, and  Lois held nothing back as she let her pain consume her. For  a moment she tried to convince herself that she was in the  middle of some horrible nightmare, that she would wake up  any moment and everything would be okay, but the sensations  she felt, the salty taste of her tears, the coolness of the  blood soaking through her clothes, the smell...it was too  real to be a dream.

As Lois cried, she placed her forehead on her sister's arm,  trying to feel her for the last time, to feel that  connection that they once had. She opened her eyes, the  tears obscuring her vision, and asked herself when the last  time was that she had told Lucy she loved her. That was the  one thing she had always regretted about her parents'  death, the fact that she never had a chance to tell them  how much she truly loved them before they left her. Lois  turned her head and looked up toward Lucy's face. "I love  you sis, you know that," she said, although she was sure  that the words were unintelligible through her sobs. Lucy  just stared heavenward, calm, at peace. Lois sniffed and  turned her head, trying to locate Lucy's hand so that she  could hold it until the paramedics came.

Lois looked down the perfect, untouched arm, and for the  first time noticed something strange. Lucy's hand wasn't  empty. While she had reached out with her other hand for  the phone, apparently Lucy had clutched something with this  one. Curious, Lois lifted her head studied the object, a  photograph. It was a medium sized black and white picture,  and the image was rather grainy, but as Lois looked more  closely at it, she could make out a shadowy female form. In  fact, she thought as she pulled the picture away from Lucy,  it looked a lot like her.

It felt suddenly as if someone had stolen all the heat away  from the room. Lois felt her eyes go wide as she recognized  herself, apparently in the warehouse from the night before.  She had been her usual careful self when it came to  handling the security system, but apparently Luthor had  hidden a new series of cameras. He must've tried to match a  name to a face, and it led him here....

The sadness and the tears, the incredible pain and anguish  became very distant emotions, overtaken by an overwhelming  sense of anger. Lex Luthor had come to kill her. The man  who had taken her parents, who had caused her so much  torment throughout the years, had now taken her sister as  well. The fringes of her vision pulsed red as she let the  hatred course through her. She closed her eyes to try and  calm herself, but she could feel the anger swirling out of  her grasp. Maybe the best thing to do would be to just  embrace it once and for all, she thought. Let the anger  take control and deal with the man who was the root of her  problem. That notion had a certain amount of appeal, she  had to admit. Let it go. Give in.

As she opened her eyes again, Lois felt herself finally let  go, she let her mind embrace the dark thoughts that had  overtaken it. The minutes and hours that followed were  barely more than a blur. As if watching the world go by  through frosted glass windows, she could vaguely tell that  she had ridden in an ambulance, been looked over by a  doctor horrified about all the blood on her, wandered away  from the hospital toward her office. It didn't even  register when she reached into her safe and pulled out the  gun that was inside. It was only there for self protection,  and she had never intended to ever use it for any other  purposes, but today was different. She knew subconsciously  why she had taken out the gun, and she knew where she was  going to go next. But she really didn't care anymore. The  anger was guiding her every moment, and she had no control.  It would be done tonight, all of it.

If the Lois Lane that was now in charge of her mind had its  say, Lex Luthor would die tonight. The Lois that sat behind  the invisible mental divide, the compassionate Lois, the  Lois who would never hurt anyone, found that she didn't  really mind the prospect. But she knew she had no say  anymore, so she closed herself off again, thinking thoughts  of happier times. They had been few and far between, but  they had been special nonetheless. Now they would be gone  for good. And so would Luthor.

***

The feeling of a hand hitting his shoulder drew Clark's  attention away from the article that he had been working  on. He looked around to see who the source of the  distraction was, and was surprised to see Perry White  hovering over him. The gruff editor usually spent the large  part of his day holed up in his office, pouring over  articles or talking on the phone to the powers that be.  When he entered the newsroom, it was generally to rally the  troops, to put the fear of God in the reporters that worked  under him. As Clark looked at him now, though, he didn't  see the Perry that he knew and respected. The smile on his  face was enough to render Clark speechless for a moment,  and he found himself staring dumbly up at Mr. White,  waiting for the smile to fade and a lecture to spew forth  about the benefits of diligence and hard work.

What he got instead was a chuckle and a squeeze of his  shoulder. "Son, I just came down to say that the story you  did on the heat wave was a great piece of reporting."

"Thank you, Mr. White," Clark started, but stopped as Perry  shook his head.

"Confound it, son, call me Perry."

Clark felt the tension drain out of his body as a smile  finally found its way onto his face. "Okay...Perry."

"That's more like it," Perry said, and Clark could hear the  teasing tone in his voice. He had heard whispers about this  side of his boss, but he had never given them any credence  before. Perry White, they had said, was nothing but a big  teddy bear once you managed to get underneath that tough  exterior. In years gone by, he had served as a father  figure to the interns and wayward souls, but Clark had  never seen that, before now.

"I was impressed, and it takes a lot to impress me. Since  you started here at the Planet, you've bagged some pretty  big scoops, and you've been very professional."

"Thank..." Clark started again, but Perry held up a finger.

"You don't have to thank me, you earned it. I think you've  also earned the right to move up the ladder a little bit,  to be assigned to some of our ongoing investigative  efforts. One of those is on your pal Luthor."

At the mention of the name, the smile immediately fell from  Clark's face. He knew the Planet had run some articles on  Lex, and he knew they had a fairly good amount of research  on the man, but he had no idea that there was an ongoing  investigation. "You've been investigating Luthor?" he  asked, curious as to what the story was behind the Planet's  investigation. He had considered Lois to be fairly alone in  her mistrust of the billionaire, at least until he came  along to help with her investigation. But if the Planet was  also following him, then it seemed that maybe Luthor had  ruffled more feathers than Clark had previously thought.

Perry shrugged and looked around before hunching over. "I  guess you could say that we aren't, at least not  officially," he said, his voice nearly a whisper. "A man  can't help but notice some of the strange things that  happen when he's around. This has mostly been my baby, you  understand, just because I can't trust that there isn't  someone around here taking kickbacks from him." Perry  straightened up and cleared his throat, straightening out  his coat before reassuming his gruff editor fa‡ade.

"Anyway, Clark, I want you to represent the Planet at Lex  Luthor's charity auction tonight," Perry said. "You can  mingle, meet some of his associates, maybe get an interview  with the richest man you'll probably ever see." Perry  winked as he spoke, and Clark found himself blinking a few  times as he stared up at his boss, trying to decipher the  double meaning. From everything Perry had said, and even  more from what he HADN'T said, Clark got the feeling that  his own harshness toward Luthor hadn't gone unnoticed by  Mr. White. He had earned his editor's trust, which in and  of itself said a lot. What Perry was doing was giving Clark  the opportunity to expand on what he already knew, this  time on the clock, and ultimately to write about it in the  Planet. Clark couldn't think of anything he'd like more.

Well, maybe he could think of something. Immediately the  face of Lois Lane pooped into his head, and he found his  smile returning. Usually on the night following a front  page headline with his byline, they would celebrate, and  tonight was one of those nights. If he said no to Perry's  offer, a night of dinner and a movie, of pleasant cuddling  and conversation, would be his. But if he said yes, he knew  he would have Lois's blessing. After all, she more than  anyone else knew that Lex Luthor had to be stopped. She  would probably welcome any information he could get,  matching it with tidbits from her own research, like she  had always done before. Yes, it was the right thing to do,  he was sure.

"I'd be honored, Chief," he said with a smile, earning one  from Perry in return. The two exchanged knowing looks for a  few long moments, then Perry nodded, removed his hand from  Clark's shoulder, and returned to his office. Clark leaned  back in his chair and bit his lip, lost in thought. There  were so many ways that he could approach the meeting that  night, so many things he could say or do. It was an  intriguing challenge, and he found himself becoming anxious  for the night to come.

First, however.... He stole a glance at the phone, then  picked it up, dialing the number that he knew so well. As  the phone on the other end kept ringing, he began to frown.  Lois usually picked it up promptly, so the delay must mean  that she was off somewhere. Her being away from her office  might not be entirely unusual, but coupled with the fact  that it was the day of a big headline and she still hadn't  made planes for celebration yet made the situation somewhat  unusual. What had happened to her? Where had she  disappeared to this time?

The phone rang a half dozen times before being answered.  "Miss Lane's office," the voice on the other end said, and  he immediately matched it to Lois's secretary.

"Is Lois in?" Clark asked, his brow knitted together in  concern. He should know better than to worry about her. If  nothing else, Lois was an independent woman, and she always  bristled when she thought he was being overprotective of  her. But caring for others was in his nature, and Lois was  special to him in a way that nobody else had ever been. She  really didn't mind his concern as much as he let on, he  could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice when she  would chide him for it. And as overprotective as he wanted  to be, he always managed to practice restraint. He had  never given in to the temptation to follow her at night, to  make sure that she was safe. She would be just fine, he  knew. She always was. And she would be now, too. But that  didn't mean that he couldn't worry at least a little bit.

"No, she's not. She left pretty suddenly about an hour ago,  and I haven't seen her since. I can tell her you called,"  the secretary said. She didn't sound overly concerned, but  she was famous for being very levelheaded. In that respect,  she was suited for being the secretary of someone who gets  scores of angry phone calls from those on the wrong side of  her research.

Clark bit his lip, pondering his course of action. He could  try and find Lois, incurring her wrath and accusations of  being a first class worrywart, or he could leave a message  and wait. Given those choices, he supposed it was best to  just let Lois contact him when she was ready. It wasn't as  if what he had to say was too important, anyway.

"Thank you," Clark said, then hung up. Leaning back in his  chair, he briefly wondered again what she was up to.  Knowing Lois, she was probably in the middle of some heavy  investigation. There was probably a certain amount of  danger involved, as there always seemed to be with her  work, but he was sure she was fine. No reason to worry at  all, he thought as he got back to his work.

***

Lois walked unseeingly through the hallway of the hotel  until she came to the door to the room she had rented for  the night. She inserted the key card in the slot and  quickly removed it, then yanked on the handle of the door  and pushed it open. The d‚cor was opulent, to say the  least, fit for a millionaire. She had probably spent way  too much money on the room, but the thought hadn't occurred  to her. All that she had thought of as she had stood at the  hotel front desk was finding somewhere where she could see  him. That was all that mattered tonight.

The schedule of Luthor's events that she had glanced at  ever so briefly that morning had been repeating itself over  and over in her head all day, the words turning into a  reassuring back beat, soothing the part of her  consciousness that still clung to reality. All other  thoughts merely played behind the cacophony. Noon, the  Metropolis Auto Show, Exhibit Hall. Two o'clock, Metropolis  Businessman's Luncheon, Metropolis Yacht Club. Eight PM,  charity auction to benefit the Luthor's children's  charities, the Metropolis Diamond Hotel, upper conference  room. Eight o' clock....

The golden rays of the sun streamed into the windows of the  ornately decorated room, and Lois found herself gravitating  toward them. As she approached them, she had to shield her  eyes from the glare off the stainless steel of the sign on  the elegant building across the street. She looked up  toward the ceiling and saw the whitish outline of a "d",  only one letter emitting the horrendous glare. One would  think that the sign from the Metropolis Diamond Hotel  itself was made of diamonds, but she knew it wasn't.  Steeling herself against the onslaught of the light, she  looked at the building across the street, her mind quickly  showing her which set of windows belonged to the ballroom  in question.

The room she was in provided a great line of sight, she  decided. Just as the clerk had said it would. She could see  the round tables set out in the room, maroon napkins set  around it set out as little fans. Maroon, the color of  blood.

Lois banished the thought as she sank down stiffly into one  of the chairs. Rage was her only thought now, anger was her  only emotion. As the sound of silence enveloped her, she  let those thoughts and feelings thrive, drawing her  strength from them. The weight of her purse, enhanced by  the firearm within, pressed reassuringly into her lap. It  was a long time until eight, but that wouldn't phase her.  When Lex Luthor walked into the room across the street, she  would be here waiting for him, ready to take the step that  she should've taken a long time ago. Until then, she would  wait.

***

Clark placed the phone back in its holster, wondering yet  again where Lois had gone off to. He'd tried her office a  couple more times throughout the day, and he left several  messages on her answering machine at home, but he had yet  to hear anything from her at all. The small kernel of worry  he held for her earlier was beginning to grow, and he was  beginning to wonder if he shouldn't just ditch the Luthor  charity auction and try to find her. But he should have no  real reason to worry, he told himself. If he still didn't  hear from her tomorrow, maybe he should start searching for  her. But until then, he had a job to do.

With a deep breath, Clark forced a smile onto his face. He  walked over to the bathroom and glanced at his reflection  in the mirror, trying to compare his appearance to what he  knew Luthor was expecting. Surely the reporters that Luthor  had met before had been very deferential, probably almost  timid, awed by the legend that the billionaire represented.  Clark knew that he could be none of those, especially  knowing what he thought he did about the man. He had seen  the calculated coolness in Luthor's eyes when confronted,  and had easily been able to feel the evil radiating from  him. Clark knew that he wouldn't be able to help but feel  confident and bold when around Luthor, and that could be a  problem. Luthor had no way of knowing that they had met  before, albeit under different circumstances. And Clark had  no intention of giving away that fact, either through what  Luthor would find to be a overly contemptuous expression on  Clark's face, or through knowledge that Clark had no right  possessing. So he would have to make every effort to be the  somewhat awed and naive reporter, as much as the thought  pained him.

He had to admit that he at least looked the part. The  tuxedo was a rental, one of the last ones the shop had. It  didn't quite fit as well as it could - the shirt, which had  to be large enough to fit over his broad shoulders, was a  little baggy around the stomach. The pants had needed to be  hemmed up a little, but that was no problem. Clark hadn't  had time to trim his hair lately, either, so it hung over  his ears, looking a little scruffy, especially by the  standards of upper society. The final effect, though, was  his smile. Through no fault of his own, something about the  way he smiled just seemed to scream, "farmboy." Clark  wouldn't have said he possessed such a quality before he  moved to Metropolis, but the more he hung out with Lois,  and the more she had teased him about that very thing, the  more he had been able to see it for himself. He supposed  that it was something that he would have to work on in the  future, but for the time being, the, "aw shucks," quality  of his grin would do quite nicely.

Clark straightened his tie and stood up straight, giving  himself a last once-over before tuning off the light and  exiting the bathroom. Tonight's transportation would be via  the air, for the sake of convenience. Nobody there would  even know who he was, so they shouldn't care how he had  arrived, and that was definitely for the best. It also gave  him the freedom to leave if an emergency came up. He tried  not to leave work assignments if at all possible,  especially not ones with the potential to be as important  as this one could be, but if it meant saving lives, he  would do it in a second. The suit, however, would have to  be put in a safe place for the night.

He made his way to the front door and made sure it was  locked before heading to the balcony and taking off into  the cloudless night sky. It felt odd flying around while  not in uniform, he thought. It was strange how easily he  had stepped into his new persona, how quickly he had grown  comfortable with the side of himself that he had tried so  hard for so long to hide. With all the publicity that  Superman had received of late, Clark had started guarding  his privacy more closely, making sure to further separate  the Superman side of himself from the Clark side. He never  flew incognito anymore, there was no reason to. But tonight  he couldn't exactly wear the suit, not under the thin white  shirt that he had on as part of the tuxedo. He could stuff  it in the jacket pocket, and he could wear the tights, he  supposed. But the last thing he wanted was for it to become  visible sometime during the evening, revealing everything  to Luthor. No, the suit would stay in its hiding spot, and  if an emergency were to come up, he supposed it would take  another two or three seconds for him to reach it. That kind  of delay could be huge, especially if it meant saving  lives, but it was a risk he was willing to take in order to  keep his identity safe.

Clark quietly landed in a dark alley near the Metropolis  Diamond Hotel, scanning the area closely to make sure that  he wasn't seen. Luckily, the weather was turning a little  too cool for the vagrants to be spending their nights in  the alleys anymore. He put a large smile on his face as he  entered the hotel and made his way to the ballroom,  fourteen stories up. He heard the steady chatter of voices  as he approached the room, he could smell the liquor that  was quite obviously present in large quantities. As he  entered the room, he couldn't help but be impressed by the  show of money that was being made. Women wore diamond  necklaces that probably cost more money than he would ever  see in his lifetime. The finest designers in the world were  represented through the clothing designs. And the items  that lined the back table were probably the most expensive  items in the room.

Clark made the rounds, drawing on the social skills that he  had cultivated during his travels in Europe. The stories he  heard were interesting, the women he saw, beautiful. But he  always kept one eye on Lex Luthor, tuning in his special  hearing from time to time in hopes of hearing some tidbit  of conversation that Luthor hadn't wanted anyone to hear.  But as Luthor stepped up to the podium situated near the  windows, he had to concede that he had not had much  success.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Luthor starting, radiating charm.  "I would like to welcome you to this special event..."

The words were meaningless, Clark thought as he slipped  toward the back of the crowd. Nothing Luthor said at that  podium would be sincere. It would be best to fade into the  background and wait until later, when he could get a one on  one interview with him. As Luthor continued on, Clark found  himself staring past him, out the bank of windows, toward  the hotel across the street. It was the Regent, the second  swankiest hotel in town, following the one he was now  standing in. He supposed that if he dropped his usual rules  and took a peek inside, he would be able to see  celebrities, the rich and famous, people who were known  throughout the world. But he was far too modest to do that.  All the same, he found himself gazing through the parted  curtains of some of the rooms, taking in the opulence that  was bordering on ostentatious.

It was then that he saw a flash of silver. It was just the  barest glint against the dark of the exterior, but he knew  what it was right away. His eyes quickly found the source,  and he felt them go wide with shock. A gun was being  pointed out one of the windows, aimed right at the back of  Lex Luthor. Clark started inching his way toward the door,  hoping desperately that his movement didn't catch the eye  of the billionaire. Being caught sneaking out of the  keynote address would certainly be a bad first impression  to make. But right now, Clark supposed that was less  important than keeping Luthor alive.

The irony of the situation hit Clark as he finally reached  the door. He was here to cover Luthor, ultimately hoping to  find some tidbit of information that would put him behind  bars, and possibly even send him to the electric chair. Yet  he was trying to save Luthor's life right now all the same.  There was no mystery in that, he supposed. If Luthor was  going to die, it was not going to be because of a failure  of Clark to act, it would be as a consequence of his own  actions. No matter what Clark felt about the man, there was  no way that he could stand idly by and let him be murdered,  not if he could do something about it. He exited the room  and checked to make sure the halls were empty before  shooting through the hotel at superspeed, making his way to  the roof and up into the air. As he cleared the hotel, he  checked to make sure that nothing had happened before  risking a quick trip home to get the suit. It was a  dangerous prospect, but he wasn't going to reveal himself  to whoever it was with the gun. If he was going to stop the  shooting, he was going to do it as the Superhero, and not  as someone who had been in the ballroom across the street  mere seconds earlier.

He rushed home and changed into the suit, hurrying as much  as he dared. He was back at the Regent in under a second,  speeding through the building until he reached the room  that housed the person with the gun. With a blast of heat  vision, he short circuited the electronic lock on the door  and entered the room, letting the door gently click shut  behind him. The interior of the room was dark, illuminated  only by the light from the street below. The soft white  glow from the windows cast misshapen rectangles on the  walls, giving the whole room an eerie, distorted feel.  Silhouetted in the light was the form of a woman, a gun  protruding from her hand held steadily out the window,  pointed across the street, right at the back of Luthor's  head. Clark shifted his gaze toward her darkened form,  trying to see who it was that could do such a thing. In his  research, he had met a lot of Luthor's former associates,  scorned lovers, or wronged employees. Many people in  Metropolis held a grudge against Lex Luthor, but as he  looked at the dark hair of the woman in front of him, none  of them came to mind. Her brunette hair was actually a lot  like Lois's. In fact, her outfit was very similar, too. He  felt his heart beat faster as his eyes now turned to her  neck, where he could see a glint of gold flashing in the  sparse light. He followed it down to the front of her  shirt, and the round lump underneath the fabric that  represented to ring that he had given her that night that  now seemed so long ago.

Clark went cold as he let himself fully comprehend the  enormity of the situation. He knew Lois Lane, what her  thoughts and feelings were, what her desires were, and what  was inside her heart. Once or twice, he thought that he  might have seen a flash of some deeper pain, some scar that  ran deep into her soul, but the glimpses he got had been so  fleeting that he had dismissed them without ceremony. When  she was around him, even during the bad times, she almost  always had a smile on her face, a teasing word for him, a  happiness about her that fueled him as well. He could never  believe that she was capable of harming anyone else - he  didn't even know that she owned a gun. If this was indeed  Lois, then something must surely be wrong. She had to be  drugged, to be under the control of someone else. It was  the only thing that made sense.

Clark slipped sideways into the shadows to ponder his next  move. He took a quick glance down at the bright blue  spandex and silently cursed the fact that he was here  dressed as Superman. They had only met once when he was in  this guise, and Lois had no reason to trust him, or to hear  him out. Superman would represent a certain trip to the  police station; his style of cold, detached justice and the  end that it meant for her wouldn't be likely to put him in  her good graces. He didn't want to be that person right  now. He wanted to be Clark for her. He wanted to appeal to  the side of her that held an infectious sense of humor, the  side of her that he knew he was one of the very few to ever  see. Whatever was wrong with her, whatever had driven her  up here, he knew that they could conquer it together if  they connected at that level. But it would have to be in  the dark, at a distance, detached. Clark wasn't really  here, after all, only Superman.

"Lois," he said softly, using his Clark voice. Her head  turned, and he could see a chillingly haunted look on her  face.

"Clark?" she asked softly. She searched the darkness where  he stood, but he knew that her eyes would only be able to  see the vague outline of a man. She stared past him as he  began to speak again.

"What are you doing here, Lois?" he asked, trying not to  let his voice waver. Confronted with the stranger that sat  in front of him, he found it increasingly hard to keep his  composure.

"He killed Lucy, Clark," she said, causing Clark to take a  sharp intake of breath. He didn't know what was worse - the  fact that her sister was dead, or the total lack of emotion  in her voice as she told him. Her words were flat, dead,  and so were her beautiful eyes. Her face maintained a  haunting beauty that he was very familiar with, but the  spark inside her was gone. He wanted so badly to go up to  her and ease away the pain that he knew she must feel, but  he couldn't, not so long as she held that gun in her hands.

"I'm so sorry," he said, the tremble finally breaking  though. "But it's not worth killing him over." For a moment  he wished that she could see the conviction on his face,  and the compassion. But for now his words had to suffice.

Her face contorted into a mask of rage as her eyes bored  into him. "Isn't it?" she shot at him, her voice harder  than he had ever heard it. "He's taken from me everyone  I've ever loved before. My mom, my dad, Lucy...." She shook  her head as the sneer fell from her face, replaced by  intense sadness. A single tear slid down her cheek as her  lower lip trembled ever so slightly. Through the darkness  she somehow managed to find his eyes, locking into them and  forcing him to peer deep into the cold depths of her soul.

"He stole not just my family, but my happiness. Knowing  that I could somehow take revenge on him made the pain dull  somehow, but now it all seems so useless."

As she spoke, he could feel hurt and pain, the depths of  which he had never conceived of before. Her eyes told him  just what she had endured, and he felt himself begin to  shiver in pure horror. He had known that her parents had  been murdered, but she had never told him that she knew the  culprit. He supposed that it explained her hatred for  Luthor, but what exactly did she mean when she talked about  revenge? As he studied her eyes, he began to see flames.  Flames licking up to caress the bricks of a warehouse,  flames devouring a wooden structure that once housed a lab,  flames that burnt and destroyed and consumed. Flames that  she had brought to Luthor.

"I had been wrong to think that anything so petty as what I  had done would do anything to stop him. There's only one  way to stop Lex Luthor, and that's by making sure that he  won't be able to live to harm another human being again."  The sad conviction that her words had held only moments  earlier had worked its way out of her voice, replaced by  the emotionless tones that he heard now. The fire that  leapt and surged in her eyes died away, until they, too,  seemed almost dead.

Clark stared at her, his mouth hanging open, the shock of  her revelations causing his usually steady heart to beat  rapidly in his chest. Lois was the one who had started  those fires, the woman in black who he had confronted last  night. He had known for a long time that she had been  keeping a secret from him, but he had no idea that it would  end up being so profound. Lois was an arsonist. Lois broke  the law for her own personal gain. Lois, his Lois, his  heart, was a criminal.

The shock dried up as the cold reality of the situation  began to sink in. He was Superman, the symbol of truth and  justice and all that was good, yet he had given his heart  to a woman that, by all rights, should be locked away in  jail right now. He shouldn't even be giving her the time of  day, yet she had somehow slipped under his radar, fooling  him into thinking that she was someone else. Someone  virtuous. Someone worth having a relationship with. But he  knew for certain now that the Lois he loved was fiction,  and he felt his heart begin to shatter. The smiles that  warmed his heart, the stories that she told in such a way  that they seemed hilariously absurd, the looks of longing  that she shared with him, all were false. He had trusted  her more than anyone else in his life aside from his  parents, and she had betrayed it.

Clark's posture stiffened as he felt all emotion fall away  from him. The sadness he had felt vicariously for her was  gone. The intense heartbreak that had threatened only  moments earlier was only a distant memory, and he felt the  core of his existence being hidden away from the world.  When bad things happened, Clark had always internalized his  emotions to a certain extent, but this was different. He  had been so open with her, so comfortable with her, that  the prospect of losing that made him shut away that much  more of his soul. Now there was just Superman, cold and  analytical. The symbol of justice. And justice was what  would be done tonight. Maybe it was for the best that he  had worn the suit tonight, he thought as he stepped into  the light, all too mindful of what the action would mean to  Lois. She had made her revelation, and now it was time to  make his. The rational part of him told him it was only  fair. There was a time when he would wonder what such a  revelation would mean to her, what she would think of him  if she knew his secret, but he no longer cared. It didn't  matter, anyway. Their relationship was over.

"Lois," he said, his voice calm and authoritative. He  clenched his jaw and placed his hands on his hips, striking  the posed that Superman was famous for. As he gazed at her,  he molded his face into an expression that left no doubt  that there would be no escaping her fate this time.

She stared at him for a moment, her expression unchanged,  before she narrowed her eyes and turned her head ever so  slightly. She gazed at his face for what seemed like an  eternity, then slowly shifted her attention to his chest.  The realization of who and what he was set in slowly,  revealing itself in her eyes, which widened as far as he  thought they possibly could, before widening even further.  Her shoulders hunched over and her chest heaved with heavy  intake of breath before she let out a whimper, and the gun,  once clenched so tightly in her hands, fell to the ground  with a dull clatter.

"Clark...." she whispered, backing hastily toward the wall.  The revelation seemed to have jarred her back into reality,  chasing away all the bad thoughts that she had once held.  In their stead came an irrational, almost child-like fear.  In all the scenarios that he had run through in his mind,  he had imagined her reaction to the fact that he was  Superman to be severe, ranging from anger to hurt to shear  disbelief. But never had he envisioned the raw fear that  she was feeling. Lois was always such a brave woman,  willing to take risks that nobody else was. He didn't think  that she was even capable of feeling such fear, but he had  been wrong. In revealing himself to her, he had steeled  himself against all the expected responses. But the  defenses he had erected, the wall that he had put around  his compassionate qualities, hadn't been built to withstand  the onslaught he was now receiving. Clark closed his eyes  to shut the scene away, but that, too, failed to protect  him as he heard her begin to sob. If there was one thing in  the world he couldn't stand to hear, it was the sound of  Lois crying.

He opened his eyes again, and what he saw made his mental  barriers crumble for good. Lois had slid down the wall and  drawn her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around  them. Her sobs sounded almost desperate as she rocked back  and forth, hiding her face from the world. Pity began to  well up from inside of him, and he decided that maybe she  had suffered enough for one night. He knew that she needed  to be brought to the police, but he couldn't bring himself  to do it, not now.

Clark crossed the room and stood over, his presence not  even registering to her in her present state. He bent down  and gently gathered her into his arms, the feel of her body  against his causing a tinge of unwanted desire. As soon as  she was secure, he took off through the open window, bound  for her brownstone. He flew as fast as he dared, the scent  of her almost more than he could bear. She made no move to  even acknowledge the fact that she was flying in his arms,  something that he supposed he was somewhat grateful for.  One look from her would probably kill the remaining resolve  that he held.

When he finally arrived at her brownstone, he set her  gently on the couch in the pitch darkness, wondering  momentarily whether it would be worth it to even bother to  turn on the lights. In the dark, they were just two random  people, unable to see the pain and confusion in each other.  They wouldn't have to see the hurt on each others' faces,  and they could almost pretend that everything was normal,  even though he knew it was far from it. Nothing would ever  be normal again.

Clark took a long look around the brownstone, knowing that  it would probably be the last time that visited it.  Memories of happier times flashed in front of his eyes as  he slowly scanned the house, memories of Lois. With a sad  smile, he walked back to the window and stepped up on the  sill. As he willed himself up into the air, he heard his  name being called from across the room. He was about to  turn around when he stopped himself. Behind him were the  ghosts of the past, the memories of a relationship that  just could not be anymore. To turn around would be to  embrace the past, to return to his relationship with Lois,  to become a part of something that was completely opposed  to everything that Superman stood for, and he couldn't do  that.

He heard Lois say his name again, and he hung his head and  closed his eyes, trying to hold back the surge in emotion.  He should just leave, he knew, but something inside him  stalled.

"Please don't go," Lois whispered, her voice sounding small  and frightened. It took all the willpower Clark had to not  go running back to her. No matter how much he tried to  steel himself against it, there was no denying the fact  that he did have feelings for her, even after knowing that  he shouldn't. A love as deep as that he held for her  couldn't just be dismissed, no matter how badly he wanted  it to be. But the Man of Steel surely could summon the  resolve to do what was right, and he needed to find that  strength right now.

"I'm sorry," he rasped, the words painful to say. He wanted  to give her a proper goodbye, but he didn't think that he  could. Ultimately, there would be no way to end their  relationship happily, painlessly. His eyes began to mist up  as he finally forced himself out the window and into the  air, away from Lois, away from the sobs that had started up  again at his words. It was for the best, he kept telling  himself. It would never work. They were too different. He  could find somebody better. Somebody perfect. Someone that  made him feel...like Lois always had.

***

Part 6

The darkness of the room enveloped Lois like a cocoon,  giving her a familiar embrace that had always made her feel  better before. The couch that she still lay on was soft  against her back, inviting her to fall into a sleep that  she desperately needed. But as much as she tried to will  herself to pass over into the land of dreams and fantasies,  the place where she could forget about all that had  happened, she couldn't. Hour after hour, she stared blankly  at the ceiling, memories flashing before her eyes as her  mind tried to digest the activities of the day.

The memories that she had to choose from were scattered,  with most of them lost in a haze on semi-consciousness. She  didn't know what exactly had happened, but one second she  had been grieving over her sister, and the next she had  been sitting in the dark, talking to Clark, a gun in her  hand. Even though she hadn't been able to see him, she had  known it was Clark, she had felt it. The gentle scent of  his aftershave had hung in the air, and the soft tones of  his voice were unmistakable. Through the darkness she had  connected with his oddly unobstructed eyes, and she had  been able to communicate things to him in a way that she  had never been able to before. She had been aware of his  horror upon seeing the pain she had felt, and later his  pity at what Luthor had put her through. She hadn't planned  to show him what she had done in retaliation, but she just  couldn't stop the images from coming. As they had flashed  across their mysterious connection, she had been surprised  to feel him retreat from her, to harden up inside. He above  all else should understand, and she had thought for certain  that he would empathize with her. The fact that he hadn't  had taken her off guard, until he stepped into the light.

Only then was her entire consciousness allowed out of its  prison. For the longest time she couldn't understand what  Superman had to do with all this, why he had appeared in  front of her when it was supposed to be Clark that she was  seeing. When it finally clicked that he was one and the  same person, she felt the final embers of happiness die  inside of her. All of the fears that she had held when they  had first started dating had turned out to be true. Of  course Clark couldn't be with her, because someone like  Superman couldn't possibly be in a relationship with a  criminal like her.

As she looked at his achingly beautiful face, she finally  saw everything that she could never have, and that summoned  up all the irrational fears that she had ever held. She had  never particularly been afraid of the thought of being  alone before; on the contrary, she usually had looked  forward to it. But then Clark had come around, and suddenly  she found that she would much rather be with him than be  alone. When he wasn't there, she somehow felt incomplete.  Even through everything that had happened with Luthor, she  had counted on Clark to be there in the end, to comfort  her, to be her future. Now she was sure that he wouldn't  ever be there to share his time with her, and that thought  horrified her.

For the second time that day, she found herself overwhelmed  with emotions that she had thought were long dormant. The  comfortable haze that she had spent most of the day in  beckoned, and as she crumpled into a sobbing mass on the  floor, she mentally shut herself away. In her inner  sanctum, she could pretend that it had all been a dream,  that her sister still lived, and that Clark would love her  forever and always. She could remain blissfully unaware of  the implications of his revelation, choosing instead to  pretend that he was as normal as any other man on the  street. As his arms wrapped around her, she imagined nights  of passion that had never been, the ultimate expression of  the love they had held for one another. Even while a small  part of her mind told her that they were flying through the  air, she ignored it. She ignored everything except for his  strong embrace, the feel of his breath on her neck, and the  softness of his suit against her cheeks. It had only been  when she had felt the couch underneath her that she had  allowed herself to come back to the cold reality, and to  the sight of Clark's retreating form.

Lying alone in the room where her sister had died, Lois  suddenly felt the loneliness that she had been trying to  keep at bay take hold. The ghosts of the past were  everywhere around her, and she didn't know if she would be  able to take it if Clark left. She summoned all the energy  she could to call his name, but he didn't immediately  respond. Her body went cold with fear as she called out his  name again, and as he hung his head, she knew that she had  been right to be afraid. He couldn't love her anymore, he  didn't love her anymore, and he was going to leave her  utterly alone. As she begged him not to leave, her eyes  wandered to the other side of the room, to the place where  she knew a large crimson spot still remained, a sad  reminder of the horror that had taken place a few short  hours earlier. That spot would always be stained into the  hardwood floors, haunting her, torturing her, and she  desperately needed him to help her though it all. But he  couldn't even look at her as he said he was sorry, and then  he had left, and she had cried until she couldn't cry  anymore.

She knew perfectly well that he was really saying goodbye,  but she supposed that the words he had used were more  appropriate. She was sorry, too, she thought as she  shivered on the couch. She was sorry that she had kept  pursuing her nighttime hobby, leading to the death of her  own sister. She was sorry that she hadn't told him  everything about herself earlier. She was sorry that she  had even so much as thought about killing Lex Luthor. But  what she found she couldn't be sorry about was Clark. She  knew she should be bemoaning the fact that she had let  herself get swept away by someone that she had known all  along would not accept her arson hobby. Nobody should go  into a relationship knowing that they would get their heart  broken, but she had, and she didn't regret it, not for a  second. She wouldn't trade the time that she had spent with  Clark for the world, she thought as she reached up to grab  the chain that hung around her neck. Clark or Superman,  whoever he truly was, had given her a reason to be happy,  even if it was for a few months. No, she wasn't sorry for  that.

As the room began to lighten ever so slightly, Lois heard  sirens far off in the distance. Sirens in Metropolis were  certainly not unusual, but these kept growing in intensity,  indicating a major emergency somewhere in the city. She had  long ago learned to ignore such things, but this time she  had to wonder. In times of emergency, the city's famous  Superhero almost always showed up to help. He was probably  out there right now, she thought, causing her to sit up in  surprise. Yes, Superman would be there, and so would the  media, most likely. Suddenly she was curious to see the  hero in action, if only because she still had a hard time  believing that he could be the man that she still loved so  deeply.

Lois turned and stood up quickly, rushing to the  television. As she turned it on, the phosphorescent glow  filled the room, causing her to squint while her eyes  adjusted. Flickering images filled the screen, images  glowing orange and yellow, colors that were burned  indelibly onto her soul. This fire, though, was bigger than  anything that she had ever set. As she finally was able to  adjust her eyes to the brightness of the room, she could  see that a spectacular fire had engulfed one of the city's  downtown skyscrapers. Fire trucks were lined up two and  three deep in front of the building but they were largely  ineffective against the flames that reached at least 30  stories above them. The announcer sounded frantic, and she  could see that he wasn't the only one. Mobs of people ran  by on the sidewalks, some injured, some healthy, all  seemingly in shock. It was truly a terrible scene, but as  she watched, the spirit of the crowd seemed to change. A  gradual roar came over the crowd, and she could heard  clapping as she finally saw Superman, Clark, land on the  street next to the firefighters.

Lois dropped to her knees in front of the television,  transfixed. It wasn't hard to dredge up the ghosts of her  feelings towards Superman. She had always considered him to  be handsome, strong, yet she hadn't been able to escape the  vague feeling that he was dangerous to her. That was true  in more ways than one, she knew now. Ultimately, he was  dangerous because he held her heart, and he always would.  As she watched, she tried to match those feelings of  Superman with the image of Clark that she held, and she had  a hard time trying to reconcile them. Clark always held a  smile in his eyes, and he always tried to transfer some of  that happiness on to her. He would tease her relentlessly,  reminding her of nothing so much as a large, playful kid.  It was strange how, even after all the time they had spent  together and all the evils they had seen in the city, he  still held on to his innocence and his unflappably positive  attitude. Those were the qualities that made him so  charming, and so refreshingly attractive to her. Superman  held none of those qualities. His eyes almost never seemed  to smile, and he certainly didn't seem innocent at all. He  didn't joke, he didn't tease. He was the antithesis of  everything Clark was, and Lois supposed that that fact went  a long way to explaining why the disguise worked so well.  How Clark could transform himself so completely was a  mystery to her, but Lois had always known that he had the  capability to be strong, courageous, and focused.

As she watched him talking to the firefighters on the  television, she could see how fatigued he was. His  shoulders were hunched over ever so slightly, and the  neutral expression that Superman usually wore had given way  to something more grim. She could tell that he was hurting  just as much as she was, and that gave her some measure of  comfort. He obviously still felt something for her, and  that meant that there was still hope, no matter how small  that was. She felt herself begin to smile through her tears  as she pondered her strategies for capitalizing on that,  but the smile fell away as she saw him take off into the  air, only to return with an armload of soot-covered people.

As he took off into the air again, Lois felt her mouth  going limp. Seeing the personality differences between  Superman and Clark were one thing. The physical  differences, though, were incredible. That was CLARK who  was flying in the air. It was CLARK who could stop bullets,  who could lift practically anything, who could burn things  just by looking at then. All those things he could do, yet  she had never had a clue. His touch was always so soft and  light, his kisses firm, but not overly so. She had looked  into his eyes countless times and had never seen that spark  of red that Superman's eyes always held when he burned  something. He looked and felt and sounded so much like an  ordinary man, but he was so much more. What would it be  like to live with someone who could do everything he could?  Did he use his powers around the house, when nobody else  was looking? Lois had been to his apartment on many  occasions and hadn't seen anything unusual, but that didn't  mean anything. He had been so adept at hiding himself that  it was probably automatic, and that was part of the  problem. Looking at him flying around, it just didn't seem  possible that it was Clark under all that blue spandex.

On the television, Superman landed next to an ambulance,  cradling a young girl who appeared to be seriously hurt.  Lois locked her eyes onto his face, hoping to find that  last piece of the puzzle, the one that would put Superman  and Clark into one complete person, and as she watched, she  was shocked to see that she had found it. She had found her  reconciliation in the caring expression of the superhero as  he attended to the girl. His eyebrows were knitted together  and his mouth hung slightly open, the same expression of  concern that Lois had seen on Clark's face a dozen times.  Whenever she got too obsessive over Lex Luthor, he would  favor her with just that expression, and the caring it held  would invariably make her melt.

Lois felt tears begin to well up in her eyes as she reached  up, running her fingers along the image of Clark's face on  the screen. Even through all the troubles that they had had  in their relationship, they had both loved each other in a  way that was beyond reason or explanation. She had tried to  fool herself into thinking that she could ignore that love,  that she could somehow set Clark aside to focus on her  professional aspirations and her vengeance on Luthor. But  in a simple act he had set her straight, and there had been  no turning back. Even now she still loved him, and there  was no way that she was ever going to let him get away. If  the events of the day had taught her anything, it was to  focus on what was important, and right now, he was  everything to her. She just had to make him see that.

Lois pulled her hand away from the TV, running it across  her cheek before letting it rest again at her side.  Patching things up with him wasn't going to be easy, and  she would probably have to make some sacrifices, but in the  end, if it meant a life with him, then it would be worth  it. Later in the day, when the sun rose, she would confront  him again. Until then, she needed to get some sleep. She  turned off the television and went back to the couch, lying  down on her side and curling into a ball. This time, as she  closed her eyes, sleep came immediately, and she was  finally able to enter the realm of dreams, where the happy  endings were assured.

***

The sun was hanging high in the sky when Clark finally  stumbled into his apartment. He gazed longingly at his bed,  feeling the fatigue that came with a long, sleepless night,  but he knew that he couldn't take the time to rest. As he  caught his reflection in the mirror across the room, he had  to cringe at what he saw. Every exposed surface of his body  was covered with soot, and his eyes were rather red and  sunken, although he couldn't say for certain if that was a  by-product of physical fatigue or mental fatigue. Lord  knows that he had had enough of each in the last 24 hours  to last him a lifetime, and this day was still young.

Clark peeled off the Suit as he walked toward the bathroom,  anxious to take a long, steamy shower. No matter what the  circumstances, a nice, long soak in the water always  managed to raise his spirits, and he would take every bit  of help in that department that he could get. No matter  where he turned, he was confronted with the images of Lois.  Always Lois. Her sobs still echoed in his ears, silently  tearing at his heart, making it almost impossible to think.  At first he had tried to out fly the sound of her tears,  but after several trips around the globe, he knew that it  was a hopeless prospect. Then he thought that it might help  to talk to someone, but it was the middle of the night, at  least in Metropolis, so he had set out to points afar to  find comfort. The penguins in the Antarctic were the best  listeners, he supposed, but the one-sided conversations  became dull after a while, so he had set out again. At  about the time he had decided that the best course was to  just keep busy, he had seen the red glow on the Metropolis  skyline signaling a fire. For a moment he was terrified  that Lois might be behind it, that maybe she had gone out  on a rampage after he left, but it only took a quick glace  toward her brownstone to see that that was not the case.

He said a silent thank you toward the heavens as he went to  work, pulling people out of the inferno, dead and alive. He  had spent hours working, rescuing, dousing the flames,  until he was convinced that the local authorities could  handle the situation. The whole time, the mental image of  Lois was stuck in his head. For every woman who mourned a  dead husband, she thought of Lois and her agency. For every  child who had lost one or more of their parents, he thought  of Lois and the pain that she had endured her entire life.  For every tendril of fire that touched the structure,  burning, destroying, he thought of Lois and all the fires  that she had caused throughout the years. With every  thought came the certainty that he had done the right thing  in leaving her, and the anguish of knowing that their  relationship was over. His feelings for her were at war  with each other, and it was slowly tearing him apart. Lois  Lane was a paradox, two people that couldn't possibly exist  in the same body. He supposed that the same could be the  same of him, but that wasn't the problem. He had a certain  moral code to live up to, and so did whoever he chose to  spend his life with, and she just didn't meet that. That  was the end of the story.

Clark climbed into the shower and let the water course over  him. He scrubbed at his body viciously, somehow hoping that  the memories and feelings would simply wash away, flowing  down the drain and leaving him in peace. It was never that  simple, however, and the challenge of ridding his mind of  Lois was proving to be too great of a task to handle. The  best he could do was focus one by one on the things that he  had to do, the mundane details of life, and just hope that  she would work her way out of his system. As he stepped out  of the shower, he forced himself to inventory the stories  that he would have to write that day. He was mentally  writing the words as he got and dressed, and by the time he  arrived at work, he had actually found that he was  distracted enough that the pain had abated somewhat. As he  greeted his coworkers, his smile almost seemed to come  naturally, a sure sign that things were steadily returning  to normal.

Clark grabbed a cup of coffee at the machine and walked  through the bullpen toward his desk. He was congratulating  himself for creating such a thorough distraction from his  problems, when he looked up, and saw her there. The coffee  spilled from his mug as he stopped abruptly, staring wide- eyed at his desk, and the figure of Lois Lane that occupied  his chair. In a fraction of a second, all the pain came  back, and he found himself blinking furiously, hoping with  all that was in him that she would turn out to be just a  figure of his overtaxed imagination. As if seeing a motion  picture, Clark watched through his vigorously blinking  eyelids as Lois seemed to jerkily stand up and approach  him, a look of determination set onto her face. The light  scent of her seemed to hit him all at once, and he had to  stifle a groan as he was inundated with all the feelings  that it brought. He wanted nothing more than to retreat, to  get as far away from her as possible, but as she laid her  delicate, beautiful hand in his arm, and he could feel a  bolt of electricity at her touch. Every muscle in his body  seized up, and he found himself staring at her, unmoving,  lost in her spell.

"We need to talk," she said as she kept walking in the  general direction of the conference room. Her fingers  lingered on his arm, applying gentle pressure as she  continued on, willing him to move along with her. His mind  screamed out at him to resist, but his body reacted to her  at the purely physical level that it always had seemed to,  and he found himself following her dumbly, lost in her  spell. He was the strongest person on Earth, yet one touch  from her could render him powerless. So he followed her,  trying his hardest to be strong, but inwardly dreading the  certain doom that awaited him beyond the conference room  doors.

***

As Lois clutched her hand against Clark's arm, she was  surprised at how calm she truly was. She had every reason  to be nervous, considering the consequences of what she was  about to do. One wrong word and she would probably never  see him again. Even with the best of efforts, that might  still be the case, but she had to try. For an hour she had  waited for him, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering  away, making her feel almost lightheaded. Little reminders  of the Clark she knew were everywhere, from the neatly  stacked notes written in his strong hand, to the pictures  and knick knacks that littered the perimeter of the desk.  Lois supposed most of the items could be considered rather  generic, but to her, they were each a part of a whole, a  picture of Clark that was more complex than could ever  possibly be portrayed through just one or two objects. The  exceptions to this, of course, were contained in two large  picture frames next to his computer monitor.

The first photograph showed the smiling faces of Clark and  his parents, set against the outdoors, at what looked like  a farm. It wasn't hard to see the love they held, the  naturalness of their smiles when they were around each  other. Lois had never met them, but she had heard enough  from Clark that she felt like she knew them intimately. The  other picture, though, took her almost by surprise. It  brought back memories of a night not too long ago, a night  with Clark. There had been a carnival in town, and they had  decided to go together, just for something different. Lois  honestly didn't remember the rides they had gone on, though  she knew that on every one of them, she had spent more time  looking at Clark than enjoying the scenery. She remembered  him trying to win her a stuffed animal, but falling victim  to the notoriously shady carnival odds. But mostly she  remembered the photo booth that had been there. They had  sat down together inside, deposited the money, and then let  the camera snap a few shots, before he suddenly ducked out  of the booth. She had heard him laughing as he did, and her  playful attempts to coax him back into the booth had been  captured on film for eternity.

Lois looked at the string of shots, which had been placed  in an oversized picture frame, and felt the sadness creep  up on her again. The shots of her and Clark together were  so beautiful, so simple. And the ones with her alone seemed  absolutely stunning. She had never known what she looked  like with a real smile on her face. All the mandatory  school pictures that she held from those dark years showed  a girl who couldn't manage anything other than a forced  half-grin. Pictures taken in college showed a more  confident side of herself, but she could always see how  fake her smiles looked, how dead her eyes seemed. Even  looking in the mirror every morning, she had never had an  occasion to be truly happy. But in these pictures there was  something about her that just seemed so joyful. Clark  certainly saw it, and that was probably why the pictures  were there to begin with. At the time those pictures had  been taken, Lois had never even fathomed that that would be  the pinnacle of their relationship, the happiest she would  ever be. It was almost unbearable to think that she would  never feel that joyful again, so she had shoved those  thoughts aside. Wallowing in self-pity wouldn't win her any  favors, and she needed to be strong. At least she had those  memories to look back on, as a reminder that she had once  experienced everything that life had to offer.

The soft tone announcing an arriving elevator had finally  drawn her attention away from Clark's desk. She looked  toward it, knowing somehow that Clark would be there, and  he was. He didn't even look her way as he made his way  through the newsroom, greeting coworkers with his own  forced smile, gathering a cup of coffee on the way. Her  heartbeat echoed loudly in her ears as she waiting for him  to see her, and a thousand thoughts raced through her head.  How would he react when he saw her there? WOULD he react  when he saw her there? She could imagine any number of  scenarios, most of them bad. Closer he came, oblivious to  the situation that awaited him, until finally he looked up,  and his eyes went wide with surprise. He began to blink in  a way that was almost comically exaggerated while spilled  coffee dripped from his hand. It was a strange sight to see  Clark, a man who was almost always in full control of his  actions, caught as off-guard as he obviously was. He  continued to blink at her, and Lois found herself smiling  at the sight. The more she thought of it, the more she  realized that in her presence, Clark's self-control almost  always seemed to be lacking. The same applied to her, too,  she knew. It was part of that physical reaction they had to  each other, part of whatever it was that linked them  together so completely. The very fact that he still had  that reaction meant that her trip wouldn't be in vain, that  maybe there was more hope than she had thought. Her heart  seemed much lighter than it had earlier as she stood up and  led him toward the conference room, trying to capitalize on  the situation.

Lois tried in vain to rehearse one more time the speech  that she had spent so much of her mental faculties  creating, frustrated by the fact that the words wouldn't  come this time. What she said here, today, could possibly  be the most important thing she had ever said to him,  carrying the future of their entire relationship on its  back. The impression that she had given him last night was  probably worse than she imagined, and she could only cringe  at the thought of what he saw when he looked at her. An  arsonist, certainly. He probably also thought that  everything she had ever done and said was based on a lie,  but it hadn't been. Somehow she had to make him see that  the person she was when she was around him was the real  Lois, and their love had been genuine, so much so that it  hurt. She would try her hardest to show him that, but if he  didn't understand, then this could at least be the proper  goodbye that he hadn't wanted to give her.

Lois closed the door behind them as they entered the room,  letting the hand that had lingered on Clark's arm fall to  her side. She kept her gaze directed at the floor, not  having the nerve to look him in the eye. Maybe it was  cowardly, but she didn't want to see his reaction, not  until she'd said her peace. It was hard enough as it was,  just being alone in the same room as him, feeling his  presence so strongly and wanting nothing more than to rush  into his arms, but knowing that he didn't want her there.  The abstract patterns made by the dark colored flecks in  the tile caught her attention, and she was momentarily  transfixed. Her thoughts, which had begun to turn toward  the irony of the situation and the fact that this room,  where she would say her farewell, was the same one where  they had first met, were harshly pushed aside. She had to  empty her mind, find her center, if she were going to do  this right. The silence in the room, which was growing  uncomfortable, wasn't helping the situation. Her peripheral  vision caught sight of his dark shoes, his toes tapping  lightly inside, and she decided that she should just get it  over with. She couldn't delay the inevitable any longer.

"I suppose you're wondering why I bothered to come here,"  she started, her eyes now gazing at the perfectly shined  toes of his shoes. "And I can imagine that you think I'm  here to beg and plead with you, to relate some sob story  about why we should get back together and ride happily off  into the sunset, but I'm not going to do that. I've made  excuses my entire life, and it's time for that to end."

A tear began to form in her eye, but she impatiently wiped  it away with the back of her hand as she took a deep intake  of breath. She couldn't break down, she had to remain calm.  "I don't blame you at all for leaving last night. If I were  in your shoes, I would've done exactly the same thing. In  fact, you had every reason to bring me in, you have every  reason to do so right now. I spent years disregarding the  rule of the law, all because of a silly revenge motive that  I had. Well, the time comes when you have to make amends,  and that's just what I plan to."

Lois closed her eyes and held her head up, turning her face  toward the window. As she opened them again, she could see  the sun shining brightly outside, its light seeming almost  too cheery, considering the circumstances. "I came here to  tell you that I'm going to be turning myself in. I already  alerted my personal secretary that I would be gone for a  while, and the Lost and Found Agency has been closed  indefinitely. That represents everything I have left in  life, but I'll gladly give it up, because it's the right  thing to do."

Her hands reached up around her neck, finding the gold  chain that had been there continuously since the moment it  had been given to her. Slowly, she pulled it over her head,  trying to delay the moment as long as she could. It felt  strange not having the weight of the gold ring not pressing  down reassuringly on her chest, but she knew she couldn't  keep it. She gathered the chain in one hand and squeezed it  tightly before thrusting it in the general direction of  Clark, who still hadn't said a single word. "I want you to  have this back," she said, finding that she was beginning  to lose the inner battle for control of her emotions. "I  don't deserve it."

At the gentle tug of the chain, she opened her hand and  surrendered the necklace once and for all. Having finally  done everything she had set out to do, she got up hastily  and started toward the door. After one long stride though,  she heard him say her name softly behind her, and she  stopped. Slowly she turned, finally daring herself to look  into his face. What she saw made her heart break. The  necklace lay in Clark's hand, and he was staring at it so  hard, she was surprised he hadn't burned a hole into it.  The corners of his mouth were curved down into a frown, and  his eyebrows were arched slightly, sadly.

"I love you Clark," Lois said softly. "I don't care that  you're the Superhero that's adored by millions, I still  love you, and I have since the day we met. I had hoped  against hope that we'd always be together, but I messed up,  and now I have to pay the consequences. I regret a lot of  things in my life, but I'll never regret having been with  you. You unlocked a part of me that I had forgotten even  existed, and I'm grateful for that. Because of you, I can  look up in the sky and smile at the sight of the sun. You  brought light into my life." Lois smiled as she said the  words, realizing for the first time as she said them how  true they were. The bright light of the day had always been  shunned before, if only because it showed her flaws so much  more clearly. But her days of seeking out darkness and  shadow were done now, and she found that she didn't miss  them at all. After all, this was where Clark was.

"Take care, Clark," she said, her gaze lingering on his  face, burning it into her memory, before she turned to  leave. He didn't say anything as she opened the door, and  she supposed that was for the best. She didn't really want  any prolonged goodbyes, any gestures of affection that  would make it that much harder to step into that police  station and confess to her crimes. It was better this way.  With a confident intake of breath, she straightened her  posture as much as possible and made her way through the  newsroom, away from Clark. She could feel his eyes on her  as she approached the elevator, but she wouldn't look back.  She had no reason to. Because for once she was sure about  her future.

***

Clark couldn't take his eyes off of her. The slight swagger  of her hips as she walked, the hypnotic bob of her hair,  all of them cried out to him, drawing his attention as they  had done a hundred times before. Somehow he could sense  that she knew he was watching her, but she stayed strong,  and ultimately walked out of the newsroom, out of his life.  He became aware of the class ring in his hand, and as he  looked at it once again, the finality of the whole  situation finally hit him. She had just said her peace, put  the exclamation point at the end of their relationship,  just as he had tried to do the night before, but suddenly  he found he didn't want that finality.

His fist balled up around the ring as he let the  frustration well up inside of him. Damn her for coming here  and saying that. He had broken it off with her last night  and had no real qualms about it, because she had broken the  law and lied to him. He had walked away, telling himself  that it wasn't really Lois he had been in love with in the  first place, and letting that fact offer some consolation  to him. It wasn't okay for him to love someone who was a  criminal, but having feelings for the fictional character  of Lois Lane that he had known, the honest, wonderful  woman, could be justified somehow. But now, after this one- sided talk, he just wasn't so sure of anything anymore.  Maybe the Lois he loved wasn't entirely false. Maybe the  Lois that was a criminal wasn't entirely bad. He supposed  that her words could've been insincere, but something about  the way she had acted had told him that she had been  completely honest with him. And now she was headed toward  the nearest police station, ready to turn herself in and  face the consequences of her actions. It was enough to make  Clark's heart swell with pride, something that he had  absolutely no right feeling. His thinking had been clouded,  his black and white world had been infused with grays, and  he didn't know what he thought anymore.

Suddenly the walls of the room almost felt too close, as if  they pressing in on him, suffocating him. What he needed  was to get out into the wide-open blue skies and head  toward the golden fields of Kansas. He had tried running  from his problems the previous night, it was true, but this  wouldn't be the same. His parents would be up by now, and  they would be able to give him the type of advice that he  truly needed. And some breakfast. Clark couldn't think of  anything in the world he'd like more than that.  Unfortunately, he thought as he took a quick look up at the  clock on the wall, his boss might not be too receptive of  him taking off in the middle of the morning, especially not  after he found out how Clark had failed to get a full story  on the Luthor charity auction from the night before. Maybe  he could claim he was sick - heaven knew that he hadn't  used any of the sick leave he had accrued. Or...maybe he  could tell the Chief the truth.

With a sigh, Clark reached for the conference room door,  tucking the ring and chain into his pants pockets as he  did. The open feel of the newsroom was a welcome change  from the closeness of the conference room, but Clark still  felt his heart beating rapidly as he entered Perry's  office.

"Morning, Chief," Clark said, giving Perry a small nod.  Perry glanced up from the papers on the desk in front of  him, giving Clark a small nod in return.

"Morning, Kent. How was Luthor's party?" Perry asked. His  eyes sparked in anticipation, and Clark took in a deep  breath, not really wanting to break the news to Perry. The  Chief had been so interested in seeing what Clark could pry  from Luthor, and Clark felt bad in disappointing him so  badly. But he knew that he couldn't concentrate on writing  any stories right now, not even to appease Perry. Things  were just too garbled in his mind.

"Something came up, Chief, and I needed to leave," he said.

Perry cocked an eyebrow at him. "That bad, huh?"

Clark couldn't help but form a half smile as he caught  Perry's inference. Of course someone as skeptical as Clark  would have a hard time schmoozing with the crowd that  Luthor favored, but Perry knew Clark better than that. "No,  sir, Lois's sister was murdered last night."

Perry's expression instantly morphed into pity. "I'm sorry,  son..."

"I need to take the rest of the day off," Clark said  hastily, which drew vigorous nods from Perry.

"Get. And don't worry about the story. Tell Lois that I  hope she's okay," Perry said, and it was Clark's turn to be  taken aback. He hadn't realized that the Chief held out any  favor for Lois, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe the sentiment  of the rest of the newsroom didn't have any effect on Perry  after all.

"Will do," Clark muttered as he quickly left the office,  making a beeline for the stairwell. After making sure he  was alone, he quickly changed into his spare suit and shot  upwards. Once out of the building, the city quickly shrunk  in his wake, and Clark finally felt free. And once he got  home, he was sure that everything would be just fine.

***

Martha Kent lifted her eyebrows as she saw Clark scarf down  yet another pancake. The first one had been eaten a full  box of Bisquick earlier, yet, as Clark favored her with  those puppy dog eyes of his, she got the distinct  impression that he still wasn't full.

"I don't suppose you have any more of those?" he said with  a boyish smile, confirming her suspicions. Something  strange was going on, but Clark hadn't been especially  talkative since arriving. To say that she had been  surprised to see him that morning was an understatement.  Clark never came for breakfast on weekday mornings, but  Martha hadn't had the heart to ask him why he felt the need  to do so now, not after seeing the incredibly miserable  look on his face. After sharing an unusually emotional  embrace with him, she had wordlessly whipped up some batter  and started cooking, but that was almost an hour ago. He  hadn't uttered a peep the whole time, until now.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Martha regarded her son.  Many years ago, when Clark was just beginning to really  develop his powers, he would get quiet, internalize his  emotions, and turn to something that would make him forget  about the world. It was almost as if he seemed too afraid  to burden them the bizarre things that he had experienced.  She certainly didn't blame him for being afraid then, but  he had learned that she and Jonathan would love him no  matter what, and that they wouldn't be scared away very  easy. It had been a long time since he had regressed back  to his old behavior, yet it seemed to have reared its ugly  head once again. Whatever it was that Clark was keeping  inside, it was something that he probably felt ashamed of,  and Martha feared what it would end up being. But she knew  that they could handle it, if only she could get him to  open up.

"Sorry, sweetie, I'm fresh out," she said, watching the  disappointment set into his face. Martha walked around to  him and gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. "You DID have  forty three of them."

"I love your pancakes," Clark said, a pout in his voice. He  fiddled with his glass of buttermilk as he stared absently  at his plate for a moment. "What about muffins?" he asked  as he quickly turned his attention to the cupboard.

Martha chuckled and shook her head. Jonathan acted the same  way when he wanted to avoid talking about something, but  Clark seemed to be able to drag it on further, thanks to  that super metabolism of his. But whether it three pancakes  or forty three, they were hardly a substitute for a real  heart to heart conversation. "Clark, what's wrong?" she  asked. The muscles of his shoulders stiffened under her  hand, and the muscles in his jaw jumped. "Whatever it is,  you know you can tell me," she continued, using her most  soothing voice.

Clark let out a sigh and turned to look at her face. In an  instant, the bottled up stress and tension finally seemed  to bubble out, morphing his expression into one of sadness  so deep and profound, that Martha felt her heart break. "I  know I can, Mom. I just...." Clark blinked and tore his  eyes away from hers. He ran his hand through his hair and  turned his attention toward the window. "I told myself that  I'd come here and get some helpful advice, then I found  myself just trying to make it all go away. Guess it didn't  work, huh?"

"It never does. The body has a funny way of letting you  know all about what it was you were trying to forget. It's  always better to just talk about it, honey," Martha said as  she made her way to the chair next to him. His voice  sounded so strained, she could only imagine what must've  happened to bring it on. As he turned his face away from  the window, shadows fell across it, highlighting a darkness  under his eyes that she had never noticed before. It hurt  her to see him in such pain, to see the marks of whatever  trauma he had experienced, but she couldn't help him unless  he let her.

"Believe me, I've wanted nothing more than to do just  that," he said giving her a weary smile. "But I can never  think of a place to start. So much has happened in the last  day, and I think sometimes I have to convince myself that  it's real." The corners of his mouth turned down ever so  slightly, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep,  shuddering. "I wish it wasn't real, but every time I do  anything in Metropolis, I can't help but see that it is."

They sat in silence for several moments before he finally  spoke again. "Lois knows about me," he said, his words  laced with profound sadness. He had told her on more than  one occasion that his greatest wish was to let her know  about his secret, but he had never been able to bring  himself to do it. Martha could understand how hard it must  be for him, how hard he'd worked over the last few months  to distance himself from his other persona. Once he told  Lois, there would be no turning back, the secret would  always join them together. In an ideal world, that would be  a good thing, but there was always and outside chance that  she would react badly to the situation, and Martha  suspected that's what happened last night.

She gave his hand a quick squeeze. "And how did she take  it?" she asked gently, trying to reassure him. Clark always  held a fear of rejection, and although he tried to keep it  well hidden, she knew it was there. Ever since he had  realized that he was different, all he had ever wanted was  to be accepted, and for the most part he had been. But that  acceptance only came because people didn't realize that he  was any different than them. Sooner or later, the person  who he chose to spend his life with would have to know, and  Martha figured that that overwhelming fear of rejection had  scared him away from women for a long time. As it turned  out, that fear was probably well founded.

The look he held in his eyes told her that he knew exactly  what her question meant, but it also told her that  something far worse than rejection had happened, and Martha  felt a shiver go down her spine. "She took it better than I  could've ever expected. But sometimes I almost wish that I  had scared her away."

"Oh, Clark, no," Martha gasped.

"Maybe not," Clark said quietly. "But it would make  everything so much easier."

"Why, what happened?" Martha prodded, her mouth suddenly  dry. A flash of some unidentifiable emotion crossed Clark's  face before he turned away from her further.

"I wasn't the only one with a secret."

***

Clark held his breath and watched his mother for her  reaction to his tale, wondering what her verdict would be.  He knew that she had been apprehensive as he had started  his tale, but all he could see now was motherly support  coupled with concentration. It was a lot to digest, he  knew, so they sat in silence for a few moments, her hand  still resting on his. Finally she looked up at him, her  eyebrows raised.

"What do I do?" he asked in response to her silent  question. "I can't in good conscience be with her, not  after what she's done. But I want to so badly it hurts. I  feel like I don't know who she is anymore, or even who I  am."

Martha regarded him for a moment, then squeezed his hand.  "I think you know exactly who you are and what you stand  for. That's the reason you're in this whole dilemma to  begin with. Lois, on the other hand, is a completely  different problem. Maybe the best thing to do would be to  turn the tables. You've been together for several months,  right?"

Clark narrowed his eyes, wondering what she was getting at.  "Yes," he said slowly.

"In that time, you've both held things from each other.  Now, you said that you suspected that she was hiding  something, and I imagine the reverse was true as well, but  even so, how did you act around her?"

Clark paused, his expression unchanging, although his mind  was a blur. He looked toward her, trying to figure out what  kind of answer she was seeking, but Martha was the picture  of contemplation. In all the years he had come to her for  advice, he had yet to beat her at her own game, although he  supposed that wasn't the point. With a sigh, he leaned back  in his chair and gave the truth, at least as he saw it. "No  different than I would around anyone else, I suppose."

Martha's mouth formed a thin line as a skeptical look came  across her face. "Oh, I know that's not true. You loved  her, you've said as much. I'm sure you don't going around  kissing just anyone."

Clark couldn't help but smile. "Okay, no. But I didn't show  her any more of my secret than I ever did to anyone else,  at least, not until last night. Besides that, I was  myself."

"So what would make her any different?" Martha asked, her  eyebrows raised.

"Her secret was that she committed felonies in her spare  time. I don't go around breaking the law," Clark responded,  frustrated. He had had all night to think about that, and  his stand on that issue was the one thing that he had  always been sure of.

"Maybe not the laws of man, but the laws of physics,  certainly," she said. The attempt at humor wasn't  penetrating Clark's defenses on this matter, however, and  he supposed that she could see that. Her smile faded as she  continued. "My point is, both of your secret personas are a  dichotomy, someone completely removed from who you really  are. If you say that the persona you used around her was  your true personality, how do you know the same wasn't true  for her as well?"

He had asked himself this same question a thousand times.  The answer rolled off his tongue, rehearsed over and over  again in his head. "I don't. But how do I know the  lawbreaking side isn't the real Lois either? Either way, it  WAS Lois who did those horrible things, and because of that  I just can't be with her." There was more to it than that,  but he didn't feel the need to elaborate. She didn't need  to know about the seeds of doubt Lois had implanted within  him that night at the warehouse, and the momentary desire  he had had to join her, to play with fire. The way she had  played on his hatred of Luthor had almost caused him to do  something that he was morally opposed to, and he couldn't  forgive her for that. If they stayed together what would  stop her from trying such a thing again? It wasn't that he  didn't trust his morals to hold, he just was suddenly  afraid of the way he felt for her. The question became,  what would he do for love? When would that eclipse his  morals? He didn't even want to comprehend such a thing. It  was better to just leave her be.

Martha nodded sympathetically, but Clark could see a spark  in her eyes. "Then let me ask you something else," she  said, her voice hinting that she knew something that Clark  didn't. She was going to impart some of her motherly wisdom  on him, he was sure. "When does a criminal stop becoming a  criminal?"

Clark blinked. "What?"

"At what point are they absolved of their crimes? When do  you consider them to be rehabilitated?"

Clark felt his jaw go limp as he stared at his mother. He  couldn't believe what he was hearing. Rehabilitated? Yes,  the basic premise of the criminal justice system was to do  just that, and his basic code of morality always gave the  benefit of the doubt to those who had served their debt to  society. But Lois had done no such thing.

"Is an admission of guilt enough? A statement of remorse?  Isn't that how they determine who will be paroled from  prison?" Martha continued, and Clark found himself shaking  his head in disbelief.

"That's assuming that they have done their time. The rule  of law says that she needs to stand for her crimes," Clark  said.

"And that's what she said she was going to do. Why else  would she be turning herself in?" Martha set her jaw and  stared into his eyes, challenging him. As he opened his  mouth to offer his speculation, she spoke again, giving her  final words on the subject. "How much does she need to do  to show you she's sincere, Clark? Aside from the legal  mumbo jumbo, what does she need to do to show you that the  woman you thought you knew was the true Lois?"

The half-hearted protest that he had been about to say died  on Clark's lips. The suffering on her face when she had  approached him at the Planet had been real enough. Her eyes  had spoken of remorse. Maybe she knew that what she had  done was wrong. Did that mean she wouldn't do them again?  Did that remorse automatically qualify her for forgiveness?  The answer to those questions wasn't immediately  forthcoming, but maybe what he needed to do was to actually  talk to her about it. One thing that had been evident over  the last day was their stunning lack of communication, and  the pain it had caused to both of them. Deep down he still  cared about her, enough to hold out hope that it could all  be salvaged. But realistically, it probably wasn't  possible. Trust was a hard thing to earn back, and she had  totally destroyed all that he had held for her.

"Thanks, Mom," Clark said as he got up. He bent down to  give her a quick peck on the cheek, then headed toward the  door. Maybe he should try and find where she had turned  herself in. Maybe he should take her aside and try to find  the truth. And then maybe he could finally come to a final  decision on what the fate of their seemingly doomed  relationship would be.

***

Lois had watched probably thousands of movies throughout  her life. The cinema had been a form of escape for her, and  she had soaked the stories up. Dramas, comedies, westerns,  action movies, all were given equal time. There was  something comforting about being able to get lost in the  fantasy world, one that was similar to the real world in so  many ways, yet one in which good always seemed to triumph  over evil. Things in the movie world always seemed to have  a certain familiarity. After watching enough movies, Lois  would've sworn that she knew what prison was like. She knew  better than to expect the bumbling deputy to be sitting in  the corner with his feet up the desk, but she certainly  didn't expect what reality saw fit to hand her.

The cell that she now found herself was oddly bright and  sterile, a far cry from the dingy, gray-barred cells she  had been shown her entire life. It was truly an isolating  and lonely place, perfect for getting some thinking done.  Lois supposed that was the point of prison, after all, but  that didn't mean that she had to like it. In fact, she had  a headache from the sheer amount of thinking that she had  done lately. But there was no escaping it in this place, so  she let her thoughts wander yet again.

In a way, she almost wished for the movie version of her  life. Girl lives awful life, girl meets boy, their love  makes any remnants of her crappy old life fall away, they  get married, move into a house and put up a white picket  fence. That kind of thing had always sounded so dull to  Lois, but when compared to prison and the prospect of  several years in a room just like the one she was in, she'd  take the picket fence any day. But Lois knew she had nobody  to blame but herself for how her life had turned out.  Nobody had forced her to set those fires. Nobody had  compelled her to aim a gun at Luthor. You do the crime, you  do the time, as they say. So here she was, like it or not.

Lois laid down on the bed and stared up at the concrete  ceiling, placing her arm on her forehead to shield her eyes  from the bright light. It might do good to summon some  strong feeling of some sort, but as much as she tried, she  found she couldn't, not anymore. It had been her turbulent  emotions that had sent her into her funk after Lucy died,  that had caused her to pick up that gun and almost do  something too horrible to be believed. Lois had never  believed in killing, yet the day before she had been  perfectly willing to take a life. If it hadn't been for  Clark, she would've actually gone through with it, a  thought that almost made her want to tremble with  revulsion. For that reason, it was probably just as well  that all emotion had fled.

And as for Clark.... Lois shook her head as she tried to  make that thought go away. He had dominated her thoughts  that day, from the moment she woke up that morning until  she had been shoved into her cell. Who he was, what he had  hidden from her and the ramifications that held for them,  his smile, his laugh, his smell.... He had given her his  heart, and in response she had broken it. She never knew  Clark to be vindictive, so she couldn't imagine him wishing  her any ill will, even now, but she was sure that he was  gone. He had seemed so tormented when she had left him, so  alone. Just like she was now.

As Lois let out a sigh, the loud rattle of the door lock  filled the room. Surprised, she sat up in time to see the  door swing open, a uniformed guard standing on the other  side. "You have a visitor, Lane," he said, and Lois  blinked. A visitor? Who would come to see her? With Lucy  dead and Clark gone, that left precious few people who  cared enough to come see her.

Lois stood, and the guard approached her to put on a set of  handcuffs. It was probably her lawyer, she thought as she  was lead out into the hallway. She had phoned him and told  him what she was going to do, and he had agreed to  represent her, although it was in a different capacity than  he was used to. In any case, she was confident that he  would do his usual stellar job. As the door to the small  interrogation room opened, Lois strode in confidently, glad  to be able to get down to business, finally. She looked at  the empty table, though, and frowned. There was no lawyer,  no briefcase, only a couple of generic wooden chairs.  Confused, she looked toward the corner of the room, and  felt the breath leave her body. The guard closed and locked  the door behind her, and she found herself alone in the  room. With Clark.

He stood in the corner, propped up against the wall,  wearing the same suit that she had seen him in earlier that  day. His appearance was immaculate as always, but something  seemed to be missing. As Lois forced herself to take a  breath, she studied his face and finally saw it. The smile  was gone. In all the times she had seen him, he had been  animated, upbeat, happy. Even that morning he had feigned a  smile, he had shown emotion. But as he gazed at her now, he  seemed almost lost. Lois sat down in the nearest chair, not  daring taking her eyes off him for fear that she would find  him gone. After a long moment he pushed away from the wall  and sat down in the chair opposite her.

"Hi Lois," he said softly, almost timidly. His eyes locked  with hers momentarily, then quickly darted away. He seemed  so unsure of himself, yet at the same time, his body  language seemed to assert that he was there for a reason,  that he had a purpose. Lois didn't know what to think about  that, but she felt the sudden desire to jump up and hug  him, never letting go. Even after everything that had  happened, he represented something solid and sane and  normal, her lifeline to the real world.

"Hi Clark. I didn't expect to see you around here anytime  soon," she said, forcing herself to stay put. She started  to put her hands up on the table, but the handcuffs weighed  heavily on her wrists, a reminder of the circumstances for  her being there. She wanted so badly to at least hold his  hand, but something inside her protested the idea of him  seeing her with those on. It just wasn't right, she though  as she stilled herself, her hands still hidden safely under  the table.

"Neither did I," he responded, a corner of his mouth  turning up. His eyes locked onto a point on the table, and  he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before  continuing. "But after doing some thinking, I just needed  to know. Why did you do it Lois?" He looked up at her  again, and there was a pleading look in his eyes that made  her heart lurch. She swallowed past a lump in her throat  and tried to think of where to begin.

"Do you remember what I told you about my parents' deaths?"  She asked. At his gentle nod, she continued. "Well, before  they died, my dad wrote me a letter. I didn't receive it  until after the fact, but in it, he told me about his work,  and about his suspicions about his employer, Lex Luthor.  What was truly eerie was that it was written as a farewell.  He knew he was going to die, but that didn't seem to  frighten him. In any case, from that letter I knew who  killed my parents, even if the police didn't seem to have  any answers. I was young and alone, and facing a world that  was a truly scary place. In a situation like that, a kid  can either be afraid, or they can be strong. I didn't want  to give in to fear, so I drew my strength from the  conviction that I would find and destroy the man who had  killed my family." Lois dropped her eyes and looked away  from him, ashamed of that part of her past. "For a long  time, it was just me and Lucy. We went from foster home to  foster home, never staying anywhere for very long. I wasn't  loved, I didn't want to be loved. All I could do was wait  for the time I was old enough to do what I had to do."

A tear threatened to form in Lois's eye, but she squeezed  her eyes shut and forced it to go away. She had to hold it  together so she could let Clark know how it was for her,  could make him understand. He had to understand. "My father  once told me to 'do right by my fellow man.' In my mind,  that meant bringing down Lex Luthor by any means possible.  Well, almost any means. I'd never kill him or anyone else  for that matter, at least not when I'm in my right mind,  but that didn't mean I wasn't above bending the law for my  own purposes."

"So what did you honestly think would come from this, after  everything was said and done?" Clark asked. His voice was  so gentle, so soothing. Lois was lucky...had been lucky to  have him.

She shook her head once and looked up at him. "I never  thought that far ahead," she said, the tears in her eyes  stubbornly refusing to go away. "I think I had built up  this scenario where I would be viewed as some kind of big  hero, the savior of the city. Maybe I thought that my  crimes would be forgiven, especially in light of the death  and destruction that I would've saved." Lois let out a  joyless chuckle and blinked a few times, clearing her  vision. In front of her, his form turned crystal clear, and  she could see him regarding her with his most concerned  look, the same look she saw on the television the night  before. "Getting Lex was my mission, and it was all- consuming. I had to stop to make a living, of course, but  the memory of my parents' death drove me. It was always  there, and it was comforting in a way. I never questioned  my choice in life...until I met you."

"But you kept setting fires, even after we got together,"  Clark said, a note of frustration entering his voice. She  didn't blame him at all for the feeling one bit.

"Not nearly as often as I used to," Lois countered, but  that only seemed to frustrate him more.

"You let on that our lo... our relationship was a big life  change for you, Lois, but I just can't see that. Why did  you keep doing it?" Clark's gaze challenged her, and  suddenly Lois felt a spark of something flare up inside of  her.

"Getting Luthor WAS my life, Clark. As much as I felt for  you, I wasn't just going to throw away everything I'd ever  worked toward. More than once I told myself that I needed  to cut 'us' off and get on with my life, but every time you  managed to find your way into my heart. Change is not a  sudden thing, but I DID change, Clark."

"So what about two nights ago?"

The consternation she had been feeling wilted away as she  remembered that night at the warehouse. It had only been a  matter of time before the subject would've been brought up  by one of them, she just didn't want this to be that time.  Her actions of that night were damning, to say the least,  and she felt a special horror over the words she had said  to him, the way she had treated him. But she had been there  for a reason, and he was a large part of that. "Two nights  ago I received a tip about some evidence that could be  found in that warehouse, evidence that linked Lex Luthor to  the heat wave in Metropolis. I got what I came for, and I  did my usual thing when I left, though I admit it wasn't  without some regret. I think you know what happened after  that."

He went quiet for a moment, his eyes moving back and forth  rapidly as if he was lost in thought. When he looked back  up at her, there was a momentary expression of surprise on  his face, before his features went neutral once again. "You  don't know how close you came to convincing me to help you  that night," he said, a darkness in his tone that she had  never heard before. "It was only a momentary thought at  best, but I hated the fact that you made me think it at  all." His eyes reflected an inner shame, and Lois felt a  sudden rush of guilt. All the things he could do, all the  amazing powers he had at his disposal, required a  remarkable degree of control, she was sure. His high moral  standards were all that stood in the way between him and  some real destruction, and he would've been justified in  feeling something much stronger than shame for having those  carefully constructed mental barriers breached, even if it  was momentarily.

"Clark," she said, hating herself for ever planting the  seeds of doubt in his mind. "I never wanted you to do  anything bad, I just wanted your help, you have to believe  that. I had seen how Superman disliked him; it was written  all over your face whenever you were anywhere near him.  Somewhere deep inside, I just wanted that extra help,  whatever it would take to get Luthor put away once and for  all so that I could leave that chapter of my life behind  and be with you."

As Clark moved to say something in response, Lois raised  her hands to cut him off. As they cleared the table, the  loud thump of the chains against of the wood stopped his  words cold. The handcuffs glinted in the light as she  finally laid them on the table, and Lois felt her emotional  floodgates truly begin to open. "I don't need for you to  tell me how wrong it was of me to be there at all, I know  already. You weren't the only one who saw me there, as it  turned out. Lex Luthor was nice enough to leave me a  memento of my visit to his warehouse with the body of my  sister after he killed her. Right there, in black and white  was a picture of me, although it was fuzzy enough that I  can understand how he could think it was Lucy."

"Lois," Clark said softly, but she shook her head.

"My crusading got my sister murdered, I'm well aware of  that. Do I think it was worth it? No. Do I feel regret  every minute of every day? If you have to ask that, then  you truly don't know me."

Lois sniffed and looked at him, holding her head high. She  didn't need him to lecture her on anything, because she had  already been taught a lesson. They stared at each other for  a moment, and she waited for the inevitable words, but they  never came. After a moment, he cocked his head to the side  and appeared thoughtful. "Do I know you, Lois?" he asked,  and she caught herself taken aback momentarily. But, when  viewed from his perspective, she could easily see how he  could have doubts about her.

"As much as I know you, I'm sure," she said, and to her  surprise, she found a small smile form on his lips in  response. As always, his grin was infectious, and she  caught herself smiling back. It almost felt as though  everything had come full circle, it almost felt comfortable  to be with him again. But it only took a second to see that  it wasn't. In so many ways, they were miles apart - she was  a criminal and he was a symbol of goodness and decency. She  could never wish for Clark to be anything less than he was,  but for a moment she did. Why did everything have to be so  complicated?

"Look, Clark," she said, steadying her emotions. "I know I  hid things about myself from you, but there was never a  moment of our time together that I was insincere. In a lot  of ways, I suppose it was the first time that I was ever  truly myself. What I told you this morning at the Planet  was truth."

He got up and walked over toward her, never taking his eyes  off of her face. As he stood over her, he reached down and  pushed a strand of hair from her eyes, his finger lingering  on her cheek for a long moment before he pulled it away.  "We're both guilty of hiding things," he said, his  expression sad, yet hopeful. "All the regret in the world  won't make what either of us did go away. All we can do is  to move on."

Lois felt her heart rate increase as he talked. Was he  saying what she thought he was? He almost acted like he  wanted to forgive her, but could she let him do that? On a  purely selfish level she wanted nothing more. But he was  Superman, a symbol, and she couldn't let him compromise  that just to help her. For both their sakes, she needed to  do her time. "Forgive, maybe. But forget?" she said as she  looked at him skeptically.

"No, never forget," he said, one corner of him mouth  curling up. Slowly he leaned down, laying a kiss on her  forehead. Straightening up again, he looked at her, then  moved toward the door. "Goodnight, Lois," he said as he  rapped, summoning the guard.

The door opened promptly, and all Lois could do was watch  in stunned silence as he left. His loudest statement had  come without any words at all. He hadn't refuted her  comment about forgiveness, indicating in her mind at least  that he had done just that. He had forgiven her. Lois  wanted to cry with happiness, but reality reared its ugly  head yet again. The guard came in to escort her away, and  she knew that all the forgiveness in the world couldn't  change the past. What was done was done, and she was going  to be here for quite some time.

***

Part 7

The door closed behind Clark with a loud bang, its echo  reverberating down the clean, white concrete block walls  around him. There was no doubt that this was a prison, a  place for criminals and lowlifes, but not for someone like  Lois. It was amazing how his opinion of her could morph so  rapidly in the course of a day, but after his latest talk,  he just couldn't find it within himself to be mad at her  anymore.

Nobody could argue that she had been a victim of  circumstance. Terrible things had happened when she was  young, and those things had changed her. Clark couldn't  help but wonder what he'd have done in her place, if such a  thing would've affected him in the same way. A life without  love was a terrible thing, a lonely thing, and it was only  natural to get angry with the person who had taken that  love away. But did those circumstances justify what she had  done? Of course not. But there was more to the story than  what was on the outside.

Good and bad, right and wrong, none of these things were  absolutes. There were degrees of severity within both of  those spectra, and it could definitely be said that Lois  fell some where in the middle of it all. Despite her habit  of arson, she wasn't a bad person by any means. Her fires  had destroyed property, but never injured anyone. As for  the previous night, the attempted murder, well, that was a  product of a Lois who had temporarily lost herself. One  look in her eyes had been all he'd needed to know that. She  had been dead inside, the spark that represented her spirit  had been gone. He knew that Lois would never intentionally  hurt another person, at least not when she was in her right  mind. The whole time that he had been trying to convince  himself of her guilt, he had conveniently forgotten about  that knowledge, and about all the other parts to the  complex personality that was Lois Lane. He didn't know how  he could've been so blind to her better qualities, or so  discriminatory toward her shortcomings, but something had  happened in that room that had opened his eyes to  everything.

Bringing up the subject of the warehouse fire had been an  attempt by him to discredit her, to somehow show her that  he knew she wasn't being truthful. But he had no idea that  she had been there for him, even if she hadn't known it. He  was convinced that Lois was the person who had gathered up  the information about the heat wave and anonymously given  it to Henderson. Lois had made it possible for Superman to  stay in Metropolis; Lois had restored the public's faith in  him. As this dawned on Clark, he suddenly remembered the  Lost and Found Agency, Lois's gift to those in Metropolis  who had lost loved ones. She gave to them out of her own  pocket, in her own home. That alone should've told him  everything he needed to know about who Lois Lane really  was, but he hadn't let himself see it before that moment.

For all those years, it seemed that Lois had been trying to  atone for her crimes by helping out other victims of Lex  Luthor. Maybe it had been her way of making sure that  nobody else felt the need to resort to arson, that nobody  else would have to suffer like she did. Clark almost felt  sorry for her, for having to engage in an activity that  almost seemed like an addiction in a way. But feeling sorry  for Lois wouldn't solve any of their problems, and he knew  it. There was still the issue of how he felt, and what he  would do about those feelings. As he had pondered those  questions, Lois placed her handcuffed wrists on the table,  bringing the issue into the light. She knew how he felt,  and with a couple of simple sentences, she had gotten right  to the heart of the matter. As he gazed at her stubbornly  defiant fa‡ade, he could see all the hurt and pain lurking  underneath the surface, one word away from being exposed  for them both to see. It was almost as if she knew what he  was looking for, what it would take for him to finally  absolve her of her crimes, at least in his mind.

To say that Lois felt remorse for what she had done was an  understatement. When she spoke of Lucy, her eyes seemed  haunted, and her whole demeanor spoke of regret. Clark  supposed that it could simply be sadness over losing her  sister, but he could just feel that Lois knew she had  brought this tragedy upon herself, and that there wasn't  anything she wouldn't give to take it all back. She had  learned her lesson the hard way, and Clark was sorry for  that, but it was safe to say that Lois Lane was a different  person now than she had been just two days earlier. She had  been a strong and confident woman, and Clark understood now  where that came from, but today she seemed small, almost  frightened, but he didn't blame her. She had lost so much  in her life, and seeing him couldn't have been easy. What  she needed right now was someone to be there for her,  someone to offer her the unconditional love that she had  never received, Clark knew now that he wanted to be the one  to do that.

It was a large leap of faith to make, a fact that he was  acutely aware of, but he also knew that he loved Lois, and  that nothing would ever change that. When they had first  gotten together, he supposed that he had known that she  wasn't exactly a straight shooter, but that was part of the  attraction. There was just something about her, there  always had been, that connected to him on a purely visceral  level. It was the type of attraction that he had never felt  before, even the few times in the past that he had thought  he'd been in love, and he suspected he would never feel  that way toward anyone else. Whatever it was that had drawn  him to her back then hadn't gone away - if anything it had  gotten stronger. They were so much alike in so many ways  that it was almost frightening. And the Lois that he knew,  the one that was like him, the kind and funny and  vulnerable one that held his heart, didn't belong behind  bars.

As Clark continued down the halls of the jail, he heard his  mother's voice ringing in his ears. When was a criminal no  longer a criminal? When were they absolved of their crimes?  Clark couldn't answer before, but he knew now. A criminal  was no longer a criminal when they were able to understand  the impact their crimes had on others. No crime was without  its consequence to society, and it seemed that Lois  understood that now. It was too bad that Lucy had to die  before Lois could realize the harm of what she'd been  doing, but now that she did, he had no doubt that she would  never set another fire again. He wondered briefly if she  would've ever seen that if her sister hadn't been killed,  but he quickly dismissed the thought. Dwelling on what  could've been wasn't fair to either of them. All they had  was what was, and what would be.

In a way, he supposed that he should almost be grateful to  Lex Luthor, as awful as that sounded. Lex made her into the  woman she was, made her want to be an investigator, and  brought her into his world. They had partnered up to  investigate Lex, and it was during that investigation that  he had introduced Superman to the world. When times got  tough, Lex made Lois understand what it was that she had,  and what she stood to lose by remaining a criminal. Clark  would be sure to thank him for everything, just as soon as  he saw him behind bars.

The hallway continued to a steel door, which his escort  opened and let Clark pass through. On the other side was  the Spartan waiting room that Clark had sat in, gathering  his thoughts, before being let in to see Lois. The  reception room backed up to the precinct offices of the  Metropolis Police Department, the very place that he wanted  to be at that moment. While Clark was confident that Lois  had arranged for a lawyer, he was suddenly curious to know  what it would take to make Lois a free woman once again.  Bill Henderson's desk was in that office, and Clark had no  doubt that he could be of help in this matter.

Clark wound his way through the clutter of desks, making  his way toward the corner of the office where Henderson  sat. He'd been in this precinct on more than one occasion,  both as Clark Kent and as Superman, and that nobody would  think twice about seeing him there. Many of the officers  were professional acquaintances, people who routinely lent  their assistance to Planet reporters. Clark nodded at the  ones he knew, offering a smile that, for the first time in  what seemed like eons, was genuine. The aroma of freshly  brewed coffee grew stronger as he neared Henderson's area,  home of the second shifters who had only recently arrived  at their desks for the day.

"Bill," Clark said as he approached the detective's desk.  Henderson, who had been hunched over a stack of papers,  straightened up and regarded his uninvited guest, an  impatient frown forming on his face before recognizing  Clark. He blinked once, surprised, before raising his hand  in greeting.

"Clark, hey. To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked. As  Clark approached, Henderson's eyebrows raised ever so  slightly, a crooked smile forming on his face as he held  out his hand. "I read your article on what we discussed  yesterday. You really cleared Superman. Say, you look like  hell."

Clark shook the offered hand, a smile forming on his face.  If Bill was nothing else, he was very blunt, something that  Clark found admirable. With him, there was never any doubt  about where you stood. "It's been a long day," Clark said,  sitting in the chair next to the desk.

"No rest for the high powered journalists, huh?" Henderson  asked as he leaned back in his own chair. He regarded Clark  with a teasing smile as he took a sip of his coffee, and  Clark couldn't help but smile back.

"Tell me about it," Clark responded, deciding not to  advance the subject. Henderson was a good friend, but he  was still a cop, skilled in rooting out the truth. On more  than one occasion, he had felt almost as if Bill could see  through the half-truths and cover stories Clark used to  conceal his other identity. That was especially true when  they were actually talking about Superman's activities,  like they were yesterday. In any case, this meeting wasn't  about Superman, it was about Lois.

"I'm here for a couple reasons," Clark continued, his  demeanor serious once again. "First of all, what do you  know about Lois Lane, the woman who turned herself in for  arson tonight?"

Henderson raised his eyebrows, then shuffled through a few  papers on his desk. "Funny you should ask about that," he  said, his attention directed toward the stack of paper in  his inbox. "A few of us were just talking about how odd  that case was. These arsons were unsolved for years, then  one day, out of the blue, this woman shows up and  confesses. I suppose that saves us a lot of work."

After a moment the shuffle of paper stopped, and Henderson  thrust a document in front of Clark. The sheet was a  synopsis of activity for that day, and Lois's surrender  took a rather large part of the page. The paragraph listed  all the properties she had confessed to destroying, and the  list was far more extensive than Clark had imagined. She  had been busy throughout the years, but it looked like most  of her activity had been when she was younger. This list  was proof of what Lois had said, that she had been  curtailing her activity of late. In a way Clark was  relieved to see the truth in black and white. He looked up  at Henderson again, suddenly more anxious than ever to find  out what happened next.

"So your office is done with this case now?" Clark asked,  drawing a strange look from Henderson. It was hard to act  interested in the case without seeming overly so. If asked,  he supposed that he would say that he wanted to know who to  talk to for the most current information, but Henderson  didn't say anything about it.

"It's been turned over to the DA's office now, a lawyer  named Mayson Drake," Henderson said. Clark knew enough  about the system to know what that entailed. She would be  the one to decide how they wanted to prosecute Lois, and  she would be the one to talk to in order to arrange  anything.

Clark nodded in response and dug around in his jacket for a  notepad. "The other reason I came by was because of a  murder case handled yesterday. Lucy Lane, the sister of  your arsonist, was found dead in her house," Clark said as  he finally found what he was looking for.

"Yeah, homicide is on that one. Can't say as I know much  about it," Henderson said, a certain understanding coming  across his face. It would be natural for a perceptive  journalist to write a story on just such an odd occurrence,  and there was nothing saying that Clark wouldn't write a  piece on it sometime on the future. But that hadn't been  why he asked. As the realization had come to Clark that he  needed to help Lois, a plan began to form, something that  could possibly take care of Lois while putting Lex Luthor  behind bars once and for all. But if the plan were to take  hold, he needed for certain things to go right.

"Can I ask you to do me a favor?" Clark asked as he  scribbled the name of the lawyer on his notepad and shoved  it back where he found it. Henderson gave him a quizzical  look and nodded once, urging Clark on. "I've been told that  a photograph might've been found on the scene. I need to  know what the status of that is and if any unusual prints  have been found on it."

Bill cringed and leaned forward. "They won't be able to  disclose details of evidence in an unsolved case," he said  but Clark had figured as much.

"Well, tell them to look into it, then. I have a feeling  that that may be an important piece of information." Clark  raised his eyebrows and tried to mold his expression into  one of innocent pleading, and after a moment Henderson  nodded once and wrote something on a piece of paper.

"I'd like to know where you're going on this, but I have a  feeling I'll be able to read all about it in a future  edition of the Planet," he said. Clark smiled and patted  him once on the shoulder.

"We'll see. It's a long shot," he replied, getting up.  Henderson muttered something under his breath, causing  Clark's smile to soften. Bill might put on airs of being a  hard-nosed cop, but Clark new better. He was a good man to  have as a friend, and if this all worked, Clark would be  sure to thank him properly. For now though...

"Thanks for your help," Clark said, then made his way out  of the office. With any luck, his query would help to get  the ball rolling. With any luck, the prints on that  photograph would provide the first tentative steps toward  Lex Luthor, a man that Lois probably knew more about than  anyone else. She could be a valuable asset to whoever is  investigating the case, and hopefully... Well, Clark didn't  want to be too optimistic. Still, it just might work.

With a smile on his face and a newfound spring in his step,  Clark took off across the city on foot. The day was  beautiful, the perfect match to his mood. It would only get  better after he made his next stop.

***

Bill Henderson worked his way through the homicide  department, weaving between desks in the general direction  of Bob Lawrence, the detective handling the Lane murder. He  didn't know what had motivated him to go out of his way for  Clark, to stick his nose into areas that he had no business  being in, and all for a reporter. Most of them were  untrustworthy, usually more than willing to find the most  erroneous part of any statement and contort it to fit their  own agenda, but Bill supposed that's what made Clark  special. Kent never misquoted, he never took things out of  context, and he never published statements taken in  confidence. If there was a poster child for everything that  an ethical and fair reporter could be, it would be Clark  Kent, and that was so much of the reason why Bill  considered him a friend. It was also part of the reason  that he had been caught off guard when Kent had asked for a  favor. If his dealings with him had taught Henderson  anything, it was that Kent was the type of person who could  more than fend for himself, usually beating the cops to the  chase when it came to solving crimes. The very fact that he  needed Bill to do something for him meant that whatever he  was on to had to be big. Henderson would be lying if he  said he wasn't excited at the prospect of being involved in  something as big as this had the potential of being. So he  stuck his neck out, put his reputation at the station on  the line, and tried to help his friend, the reporter.

As Henderson approached the desk, it was obvious to see  that Lawrence was elsewhere. Figured. For a moment, he  considered leaving a message, but something inside him told  him to wait. It wasn't as if he had any large cases pending  at the moment, anyway. If he were to return to his own  desk, he would probably spend most of his time pondering  the status of the case, anyway, so staying would take some  of the anxiety out of it. Settling down into Lawrence's  chair, Henderson leaned back and scanned the papers on the  desk. It was amazing how much the desks of cops seemed to  look alike, he thought. Files, papers, all arranged in  different piles, seemed to be very common, and it was no  different here. Casually, Henderson started scanning the  names on the file tabs, pausing as he noticed the Lane case  sitting on the top of the stack.

Without thinking, he reached his hand out, then abruptly  stopped. Rooting through the files of another cop was not  at all ethical but.... He looked over his shoulder and for  the first time noticed how empty the department was. There  wasn't a homicide detective to be had anywhere in the  precinct, leaving him conveniently alone. Bill's hand hung  in mid-air for a few moments longer as he pondered the  consequences of what he wanted to do. All he needed was a  simple bit of information - why bother Lawrence with  something so mundane? It might even be better for all  involved if he just got the information and left, that way  Lawrence wouldn't be burdened with the question of why it  was needed in the first place. Yeah, that sounded  plausible.

His mind made up, Henderson grabbed the folder and  carefully opened it. The usual pages of notes were inside,  along with pictures of the crime scene and transcripts of  witness interviews and phone calls. It wasn't hard to  locate the inventory of evidence, and the mention of a  photograph found in the hand of the deceased. It had been  sent to the crime lab for analysis, and apparently they  hadn't phoned back with any results. An identification of  any possible fingerprints on that photo would go a long way  toward solving the case, and Henderson was sure that was  what Clark was getting at. Curious, he picked up the phone  and punched in the extension for the crime lab. The  attendant picked up after a few rings.

"Yeah, this is Henderson," he said, his mind spinning. The  results of the tests on evidence weren't exactly  confidential, and other cops asked for test results on  cases they weren't directly affiliated with all the time.  "I'm working on something related to the Lane case, and I  was wondering if you could tell me the results of tests on  the photograph found at the scene," he said.

The lab tech at the other end didn't seem bothered by the  fact that Henderson wasn't related to the case. "As I told  Lawrence, we found three sets of prints on the picture,  identified as Lois Lane, Lucy Lane, and Nigel St. John. The  report was sent out a few hours ago."

"Okay, thanks," Henderson said, then hung up the phone.  That last name was very familiar, although he couldn't  quite figure out why. As he continued to rifle through the  folder, he found a report stuffed in at the end from the  crime lab, stating that they hadn't been able to ID any  prints on the picture. Henderson looked at the phone, then  looked back at the paper in the folder. That didn't make  any sense at all. He supposed it would make sense  if...well, he didn't want to think about that. But all the  same, maybe he should do some digging. He needed to find  out who this Nigel St. John was, and he needed to find out  just what kinds of cases Bob Lawrence had been working on  in the past.

***

Lois found herself rooted to the mattress in her barren  cell, staring up toward the overly bright ceiling. She had  been there since her visit from Clark, and she hadn't moved  since. If someone had asked her how much time had passed,  she wouldn't have been able to answer - it could've been an  hour, it could've been a day. In any case, she hadn't felt  the desire to sleep, and she couldn't say that she was  especially upset about that. Normally the dream world was a  place to retreat to, to escape from the harshness of  reality into a world where things were better, where her  every wish came true. But she didn't need that world right  now. She might be in jail, but her biggest wish had already  come true. Clark still cared for her, maybe even still  loved her, and that was all she needed. With his love came  the hope that, in the end, everything would turn out okay.

Academically, of course, she knew that the road to that  ultimate happiness wouldn't be easy. Her track record was  very damning, and that probably meant a lot of jail time,  especially if she ended up in front of a judge that wasn't  particularly sympathetic. And Clark, the man who she had  only truly met for the first time the night before, would  be on the outside without her. That was no way to build a  relationship, and she wondered just how patient he'd be as  the years wore on. But as much as those warnings rang in  her, she pushed them aside, for the time being letting  herself bask in the afterglow of Clark's conversation with  her. There would be plenty of time to think about the cold,  hard reality of everything later.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway outside her door,  accompanied by the gentle jingling of keys. The guard  passed by every few minutes on his patrol, but she could  swear that she had heard him pass by only moments earlier.  Even though time seemed to have lost all meaning for her,  any disruption in the maddeningly regular prison schedule  was cause for attention, and she found that her more  pleasant thoughts were being chased away as she listened to  the guard in the hallway. His steps slowed down as he  reached her door, and after a moment, the door opened. Lois  tilted her head toward him, squinting as she tried to focus  her tired eyes.

"Time to go, Lane," he said as she pushed herself into a  sitting position.

"Do I have another visitor?" she rasped, wondering exactly  where it was she was supposed to be going to. For a moment  she had felt a spark of hope, a feeling of excitement for  any change of scenery, but then she began to think of what  her options were. She knew that she was due to be arraigned  that morning, so there was a good possibility that her  lawyer would want to talk to her. Lucy's death was still  considered an active case with the MPD, and although they  had questioned her for hours on end the day before, it was  still possible that they wanted to talk to her. She didn't  know how they could possibly find more ways to cover the  same ground that they had gone over for so many hours  before, but knowing the police, she was sure that they'd  find a way. Aside from that, there wasn't any other reason  for her to leave, a thought she found mildly disappointing.  Yes, it would be nice to get out for a while, but given the  choice between lawyers, police, or being alone with her  thoughts, she'd take the latter any day.

The guard stood by the door and waited for her to rise from  the bed. Lois stood slowly, feeling slightly lightheaded  and cramped up from lying in the same position for so long.  Spots appeared in her vision as she reached her full  height, and she had to duck her head and grab onto the bed  to steady herself. As the blood rushed through her ears,  she heard the guard speak. "Bond has been posted. You get  to go home," she heard him say, and for a moment she swore  she had heard him wrong. The lightheaded feeling was slowly  replaced with a cautious spark of excitement, and as she  raised her head again, she narrowed her eyes, trying to  read his face. Surely he had to be joking. There was nobody  out there who would be inclined to bail her out of prison -  her family was dead, she had no friends, and Clark wouldn't  do such a thing. Would he?

"Pardon me?" Lois asked, her voice now a mere croak. The  guard's expression remained steely as he regarded her, and  she was coming to the realization that this was not a joke.

"You made bail. Come on, I thought you'd be happy to be out  of here," he said, approaching her. Lois made no move  toward him, the shock fixing her into place. Her hands were  clasping the bed so hard that she could feel the  circulation cutting off, but she didn't care. For whatever  reason, someone had bailed her out, and she couldn't for  the life of her figure out why. Clark seemed to have made  peace with her crimes, and with the current state of  things, but he was Superman, fighter for truth, justice,  and the American way. The operative word there was justice,  and justice for her meant staying right where she was,  serving her time, and he was certainly aware of that.

The guard grabbed her elbow, gently nudging her toward the  door. Lois let go of the bed and let herself be moved,  something deep inside of her aware of who was waiting for  her down the hallway. A part of her felt suddenly giddy at  the thought of seeing him again for real, not just as a  vision in her thoughts. She longed to spend some quality  time getting to know him for who he really was, but, she  thought as her giddiness gave way to the same resigned  misery that she had felt for the last day or so, she didn't  know if she could let him take her out of here. Shame and  anger had burned in his eyes when he had told her about the  night at the warehouse, and the dark thoughts she had  placed in his head. The decisions he made impacted the  lives of so many people, and if he had been affected so  profoundly by her before, who was to say it wouldn't happen  again? She had already been the cause of so much of his  agony, and she owed it to him, to the society that she had  wronged, to the people whose lives he held in his hands, to  do what was right. And what was right was staying here.

As she was led down the corridors, through the maze of  hallways and brightly painted doors, shock came over Lois  once again as she realized that, for the first time in her  life, she was willing to do something that was completely  unselfish for the good of others. The Lost and Found  society, while generous, always had an ulterior motive.  Widows and widowers of the victims of Lex Luthor held  valuable information, and while they were only a small  percentage of the people that the agency saw, they always  gave her tidbits that helped her with her quest. With  Clark, though, she didn't expect anything in return. Not  information, not help, and certainly not bail money. She  wanted nothing more than to be with him, but at the same  time, she was willing to give that up for the benefit of  everyone. Maybe she could make him see what it was he was  doing by bailing her out, what kind of precedent it set,  and just maybe she could talk him out of it.

The hallway turned, and she could see the metal door  looming at the end of it, the one that lead to freedom. On  the other side undoubtedly stood Clark, probably watching  her at that very moment, a thought that made her stop dead  in her tracks. The guard applied steady pressure to her  arm, forcing her to move along, but she did not go  willingly. Her feet drug heavily as she continued, her body  aiding her sudden desire to delay seeing him for as long as  possible. She needed to talk him out of this, to make him  leave her here, but months of practical experience had  taught her that as soon as she saw him, she'd lose her  nerve. She'd fallen victim to that smile more than once, to  that charm that always seemed to make her do exactly the  opposite of what she had intended. For the most part,  giving in to his charms had ended up being an enjoyable  experience, a nice diversion from the gloom that her life  had perpetually been cast in, but this was different. This  was serious. This was a matter of morals, of ethics, and it  was most certainly not pleasant.

The guard reached for his keys, and Lois felt her  apprehension grow. How did you tell someone that you loved  them too much to be with them? Just the sentence was a  contradiction, she knew, but in this case it was the truth.  Reality was a cold, hard thing, and it had this nasty habit  of ruining even the best of intentions - she more than  anyone knew all about that. And the reality of the  situation was crystal clear, at least to her. As the key  was inserted into the lock and gently tuned, Lois stood  rigid, determined. She just had to tell him, to make him  go. Briefly she pondered what she could do to scare him  away, to make sure he never came back, but as soon as the  thought came, it was shoved aside. She could never do  anything to harm him, to deceive him, not anymore. It had  only been a day since they had received the greatest gift  that either of them could give, and that was the truth. And  as horrible as that truth had been for both of them, for  their relationship, she had been very relieved to have been  able to get everything out in the open. In a way it was  exciting, but, she thought as she took one last look around  the sterile gloom on the jail, the truth was certainly less  fun. But that was just how it was.

As the door swung open, Lois braced herself for the  onslaught of emotion that would come with seeing him again.  In an attempt to delay the inevitable, she squeezed her  eyes shut tightly and took a deep breath, waiting for the  scent of his aftershave to gently tickle her nose the way  it always did. But there was no scent. There was no  greeting, either, no happy cries of, "Lois!", no arms being  thrown around her. Hesitantly, she opened one eye, and saw  nothing but a waiting room. And her lawyer. Immediately her  other eye opened, and she let out a sigh as she slumped  over. She told herself that she was relieved, that being  bailed out by her lawyer was better than being bailed out  by Clark, but that didn't stop an immense feeling of hurt  from building up in her.

Her lawyer looked at her quizzically, and Lois gave him a  smile back, one that she had wanted to convey confidence  and appreciation, but she knew that it was strained, she  could feel it.

"Hello Lois," he said as the guard closed the heavy door  behind her, leaving her alone in the room with him.

"Bob," she said as she made her way toward him. They shook  hands quickly and then sat opposite each other in the  threadbare Technicolor chairs that lined the room. Lois  half expected to look over at the end table and see a  Reader's Digest sitting on it from 1979. At least there was  no shag carpet, she thought as she looked down at the  plain, white, asbestos tiles. Yes sir, those prison folks  sure did know how to make a reception room seem warm and  inviting, she thought with a snort. Bob looked at her  strangely, and she gave his another awkward smile,  wondering distantly what had gotten into her. It only took  a moment to answer that question, though. She had probably  built up enough nervous energy in the walk from her cell to  the door to last her a lifetime. All she needed was a stray  thought, and she was sure she would either start laughing  or break down in tears.

Bob coughed and looked down at his briefcase. "As you know,  this morning was the hearing in which they formally charged  you with 26 counts of felony arson and set your bail," he  started, his tone the same professional one that Lois was  used to. He looked back up at her again as he continued.  "Immediately after the meeting, in the halls of the  courthouse to be exact, I was contacted by a Mr. Kent, who  wanted me to arrange for your release. He gave me cash to  pay the bond, so here we are. I wanted to explain --"

"Where is he?" Lois interrupted. Normally she was never the  type to break off someone when they were talking, but she  just couldn't stop herself. She looked at him expectantly,  and he shifted slightly under her gaze.

"He said he had something to take care of. In any case, we  both agreed that it would be best if I came here to explain  exactly what this entailed, and what will be expected of  you when you're out," Bob said, and Lois nodded absently.  As he rattled off legal terms and talked about police and  parole officers, she found herself drifting, lost in  thoughts about Clark. What would he need to take care of?  Was that some sort of code that he used to indicate that he  needed to do Super things? If she thought about it, some of  the excuses that he had used when he left her had been very  similar - he needed to work late, maybe, or he just  remembered that he needed to do this or that. The excuses  had left her hurt from time to time, confused more often  than not, but she supposed that it was all part of the life  of a superhero. Love was important, but saving lives took  precedence. Of course, in a city like Metropolis, people  died every day, probably at all hours of the day or night.  There was no way he could save everyone and still have time  to do anything - how did he discriminate when and where he  should help and when it was better to take some time for  himself, to ignore the cries for help and just relax? Was  it possible to ignore something like that, she wondered. As  the thought crossed her mind, she became aware that the  room had become silent, and she made herself look at her  lawyer who was now looking at her with anticipation.

"Huh?" Lois asked, drawing a thin frown from him in  response.

"I said, can you agree to all this? If you break these  rules, you can be sure that the police will throw you back  in here without reservation."

Lois puckered her lips and stared at him for a moment. She  almost wished now that she had paid attention to what he  had been saying, but...the more she thought about it, the  more she knew that Clark thoughts were a much more pleasant  diversion. The dark recesses of her mind told her that  maybe not knowing would be better, that maybe it would lead  to her getting exactly what she wanted, namely to be put  right back in here, but she pushed that thought aside. The  last thing she needed right now was to get into more  trouble with the law. "Yes, I can," she said finally,  making a mental note to find out for herself what she  needed to do.

Bob reached out his hand and Lois shook it. He gathered up  his coat and briefcase and started toward the door,  motioning for her to follow. She hesitated at first,  wondering where it was they were going. She had been so  intent on having Clark meet her that she hadn't thought  about what she would do once she did get out. It had just  been assumed that they would go somewhere to talk, and that  she would wind up right back here after a couple hours. If  she was expected to find her own way, she didn't know where  she'd go or what she'd do.

They walked into the hall, and Lois found herself lost in  thought once again. She followed Bob blindly, so intent on  her introspection that she hadn't seen anyone around her.  It hadn't even registered when a familiar, dark-haired man  rounded the corner in front of her, offering her a smile  that would normally cause her insides to turn to jelly. It  was only as a hand was laid on her arm that she saw him.  All the emotion she had built up earlier, all the  conviction she had held, was nothing more than a distant  memory, and even as she tried to remind herself what it was  she had wanted to tell him, she threw her arms around him,  enveloping him in an embrace that surely would've smothered  any normal human being.

***

His timing couldn't have been better, Clark thought as he  rounded the hallway corner. A quick peek with his vision  had told him that Lois and her lawyer were in the hallway  perpendicular to his, and a smile spread over his face as  he tried to picture what Lois's reaction would be to seeing  him. She had undoubtedly been told already that he was  responsible for her release, and he imagined that she would  be pleased about how everything had turned out. She  probably had thought that she had seen the last of him, but  that couldn't be further from the truth. He hoped to be  around for quite some time.

Quickly he walked down the hallway, keeping Lois in his  line of sight the whole time. She appeared to be  preoccupied with something, but he didn't blame her. The  whole world had been turned on its ear, and it probably  took a lot to absorb this current change. Even as he turned  the corner, she didn't seem to register his presence,  strange for someone as observant as Lois usually was. He  approached her cautiously, reaching out to touch her in  such a way that she wouldn't be too startled. As it was,  she jumped ever so slightly as his hand finally met her  arm, her head whipping around and her eyes taking in his  face. A million thoughts seem to pass over her face all at  once as recognition came, finally settling on a naked  expression of pure joy as she threw her arms around him  enthusiastically. Her grip was tight, protective, almost  like that of a drowning man holding on to a life preserver.  He tried to hold her gently, but he found himself being  swept up in the raw emotion of the moment, and his eyes  began to moisten as he drew her closer, so close that he  could feel her heartbeat through his chest. They shared a  moment of quiet togetherness before they pulled apart and  gazed into each others' faces, that familiar spark passing  between them, just like it always had before. Her head  tilted up fractionally, invitingly, and before he knew it  they were lost in a kiss, one that seemed so profound and  earth shattering that it was indescribable. In a way, he  supposed, that it was profound, the first moment of  affection they had shared since that night, the first real  affirmation of a relationship that they had both taken for  granted until then. Waves of pleasure rippled through his  body as he tried not to think of what it was he almost  lost, but after a moment she grew rigid in his grip, and  her mouth pulled away from his.

"We can't do this," she said rather breathlessly. Clark  just looked at her for a moment, confused.

"What, kiss? Of course we can! We've done it dozens of  times before...." he replied, but as he spoke, he could see  her expression steel, her jaw set, and a momentary sense of  foreboding washed over him.

Lois started to squirm in his arms, and Clark had to  release his grip. "No, we can't do THIS," she said,  gesturing in the air around her. "I can't let you take me  out of here."

He felt his eyebrows knit together as he tried to fathom  what she meant. "Why not?"

Any remainders of their shared moment of passion seemed to  disappear completely as she regarded him with the same type  of expression that he supposed women had been giving men  for millennia. It was the kind that told him that the  answer to his question was patently obvious, at least to  her, and probably any other person with half a brain. Her  lips formed a thin line and she folded her arms across her  chest, not saying a word. The spark that their eyes had  shared before seemed very distant as they became locked in  a staring match, although Clark couldn't for the life of  him figure out why. After a long moment she let out an  impatient breath and shook her head.

"Because in there is where I belong," she said. "Surely you  can understand that. Everything you are, everything you  stand for, is completely against everything I represent.  I'm a criminal, Clark, and you're....you're...." She  gestured toward his chest, making it obvious what it was  she was talking about.

Clark sighed and turned away from her. Her words echoed the  thoughts that had swirled around in his head for so long.  It was amazing sometimes how much alike they were, how much  their thoughts matched. If he had had any question as to  whether she had been able to fathom his line of thinking  had been answered, he supposed, but even though she  understood what his problem had been, she obviously  couldn't see why he was there. He needed to make her see  that, but, he thought as he looked around at the curious  bystanders, this wasn't the time or place. He had hoped to  delay any discussion until they got home, but now that the  subject had been broached, he supposed that they should get  there sooner rather than later.

Clark turned and placed his hand on the small of Lois's  back, raising his eyebrows and gesturing toward the  stairway door a few feet away. She frowned fractionally and  walked with him, waving her lawyer off just before entering  the stairwell. The door closed behind them with a  resounding thud that took a few moments to die down.

"What's this all about?" Clark whispered, frowning as his  voice echoed down the stairwell. Lois fixed her eyes on the  floor, trying to collect herself.

"It's about doing what's right Clark, and what's right is  leaving me here," she said, but as she said the last word,  he could hear a slight tremor in her voice, something that  said that maybe she wasn't as convinced of that as she  wanted him to believe. He found it hard to think that her  self esteem had sunk so low that she could actually believe  that she was worthy of being locked away with the dregs of  society, although he supposed that he could see where she  was coming from. She had something in common with them, or  at least she had at one time. But not now. He knew her, and  he knew that she deserved better than that.

"Lois," he said softly, trying not to sound patronizing. He  put his hand squarely on her shoulders, drawing her gaze  upward. She seemed on the verge of tears, and his heart  went out to her, guilt slowly building up in his chest.  "Believe me, I know what you did, and I know it was wrong.  But I also know that the law allows for me to take you out  of there, just like I did. I didn't do it rashly, I didn't  do it without pondering the consequences. I'm more than  willing to talk to you about this or anything else, and I  took the whole day off so that we could do just that.  Please, though, can we do it someplace a little more  private?" He raised his eyebrows and looked at her,  awaiting her answer. She drew back a corner of her mouth as  she seemed to fight some inner struggle, then dropped her  eyes.

"Okay," she said softly. Clark smiled. He waited a moment  for her to return it, just like she always had before, but  she didn't. In the past, it had always a smile or a gesture  that had brought them out of bad situations, but the past  was most certainly over with, he thought as he looked at  her still troubled face. Everything was different now,  their whole identities redefined in each others' eyes, and  the innocence they once had could never come back. But with  the truth, and with love, then maybe they could at least  try and find a new understanding. The truth was a powerful  thing, and, he thought as inspiration hit, what better way  to live the truth than to face it head on? And what better  way to get to know him than to travel his way?

"Come on," he said as he reached for her hand, clasping it  in his as he started up the stairs. Lois looked at him  sideways and hesitated before following him.

"Where are we going?" she asked as they climbed. Clark  looked over his shoulder and gave her a crooked smile, one  that almost felt too wide, too knowing. He felt like the  world's biggest kid, sharing his big supersecret with his  best friend.

"To the roof," he said, waiting for the recognition to  flicker in her eyes. She seemed confused momentarily, but  he could tell the instant that the recognition hit. At  first she seemed caught off guard, but then he saw her  smile break through.

"Couldn't we just take a cab?" she asked, but there was no  accusation there, no note in her voice that suggested that  was what she'd rather be doing. In fact, if he heard  correctly, he could swear he detected a hint of the gentle  humor that had always been held by the Lois he knew.

"Well, you have to admit the price of going this way is a  lot more attractive. And besides, I want to make sure you  got there in one piece," he said, hoping to smooth away the  awkwardness that he knew was to come. He looked expectantly  at her, waiting for that smile, and finally saw it. Only  then did he allow himself to relax, to enjoy the moment  that was to come.

The roof was two stories above them, and they climbed the  stairs in a comfortable silence, each lost in thought. They  didn't pass anyone on the way, which Clark supposed was for  the best. People tended to be suspicious of strangers  poking around on the roofs of buildings, and Clark didn't  blame them. Why would someone need to be up there, anyway,  unless it was for something suspicious - maybe to mess with  the ventilation system, or maybe to jump over the edge of  the building. That was why he usually supersped to the  roof, but not today. For Lois, he took it gently.

Clark was the first to reach the door leading outside. He  pushed it open and walked through it, spinning into his  suit as he did so. The change was so rapid that Lois hadn't  even detected it. As she followed him onto the roof, she  stopped dead in her tracks, noticing that it was now  Superman standing in front of her and not Clark. Her eyes  grew wide and her jaw dropped perceptibly, although he  couldn't tell if she was afraid of him, surprised, or just  momentarily caught off guard. Inwardly, Clark chastised  himself for not anticipating how seeing him as Superman  would affect her. He plastered the largest smile he could  muster onto his face in a weak attempt to ease any fears  she might have, but he felt his cheeks start to strain as  the time wore on and Lois remained shell shocked. Finally,  he heard her swallow, and she forced an unsteady smile onto  her face to match his.

"Shall we?" he asked with a light tone, holding out his arm  to her. Lois gave a small nod and he gingerly scooped her  up, noticing how stiff she seemed. It was something that  would be fairly difficult to notice under normal  circumstances, but he knew Lois well enough to see that  something was bothering her, even above and beyond what  they had talked about earlier. As he took off into the air,  her arms wrapped around him rather delicately, almost as if  she was afraid to get too close, and Clark couldn't help  but turn his attention away from the skies to get a look at  her face. Beneath her forced smile, beneath her wide eyes,  he could detect a sense of what he could only classify as  confusion, unease. It was only understandable, he supposed.  Throughout the course of their relationship they had always  been close, maybe closer than they should've been,  especially considering the skeletons that lurked in each of  their closets. Now that everything was out in the open, it  was hard to face up to what the truth was, and to the fact  that the person they were with was not who they had  thought. When she talked to him while he was wearing his  normal street clothes, it was easy to forget about that.  Even the couple of times they had rather cryptically spoken  of his experiences as Superman, there was a certain amount  of detachment to the discussion. But here, flying through  the air together, they couldn't help but be faced with the  reality of the situation, something that he knew Lois was  all too aware of already.

Clark tightened his grip on her and gave her a reassuring  smile before looking back toward the sky, continuing the  flight in silence. Maybe, on some level, he had hoped that  by showing Lois the world from his vantage point, she might  have less reservation, that maybe she would let go of some  of her anxiety. But then again, it was entirely possible  that it would have the opposite effect. He would find out  soon enough, he supposed. Until then, he didn't blame her  for feeling confused about him - he had been confused  himself when he first took on the Superman persona. It  would take time to sort it all out.

"What's it like?" he heard Lois say into his ear, her voice  heavy. As he looked at her again, he was surprised to see  her looking in fascination at the city as it passed below  them. After a moment, he noticed that at some point during  the flight, her body had relaxed against his, all traces of  the tension she had felt on takeoff apparently gone. As he  favored her with a curious look, he felt himself suddenly  relax, not even realizing that he had been just as uneasy  as she had been.

"What do you mean?" he asked, drawing her gaze away from  the scenery. Her eyes softened as she looked at him, a  lopsided smile beginning to form on her face.

"Being you. What's it like?" she smiled at him and looked  away again. "You can come up here, see the whole world from  above. It must be very liberating being able to do that,"  she said, her voice drifting on the wind as it sailed past  his ears.

Clark didn't answer right away, instead choosing to think  of how it was for her, seeing all this for the first time.  His first flight had been so long ago, he almost forgot  what it had felt like for him, how all the emotion had  coursed through his body. After getting over the initial  terror, there had been an incredible feeling of euphoria.  There was power in being able to detach yourself from the  rest of the world, to soaring with the birds. The flying  had been the last of his powers to develop, and it had been  the one that he felt set him the furthest apart from the  rest of humanity. It was a double edged sword in way, and  he had spent much of his adult life wrestling with the  conflicting desires to fly and to remain one with the human  race.

"It's all I know," he said, squinting up toward the sun.  All the tales he could relate to her about the joy and the  pain of being who he was would all boil down to just that.  "I could ask you the same - what it's like to feel so much  pain and anger, what it's like to not have this available  to you."

Lois gave him a strange look for a moment, then nodded  slowly. "I guess everyone is unique, and deep down, when  they look at others, they wonder what it's like to live  their lives. For the longest time, I looked at kids who  still had their parents and felt that tug, that quiet what  if. What if I still had my own parents, what would it be  like?" Her smile seemed far away, and the silence stretched  out for a moment as Lois seemed to be lost in quiet  contemplation. Her arms wrapped around him more tightly as  she seemed to return to the present. "But you still haven't  answered my question. What's it like being you?"

Clark smiled and let himself enjoy the moment briefly  before he started thinking of a way to respond to her  question. He supposed that he could try and compare himself  to her, or to any other normal person for that matter, but  although he knew fairly well what life was like for a  normal person, he had never truly experienced it. Even when  he was younger and didn't technically have all the powers  he had now, he had still been different from everyone else.  He never got hurt, he never had any problems accomplishing  the physical feats that a lot of children found hard. There  had always been the feeling that something set him apart,  and because of that, he had never really known what it was  like to be ordinary. "All this - the flying, the strength,  the powers - they're just something I can do. That's not to  say that I haven't enjoyed them throughout the years, but I  honestly couldn't tell you what it's like to be anything  other than I am."

Lois nodded and detached one of her arms, thrusting it out  into the wind. "But I bet it must help, when times get  hard, to know that this is up here. To know that, no matter  how bad the world gets, there's this waiting for you." She  closed her eyes and let the wind run through her hair.  Clark smiled as he realized how beautiful she was when she  was smiling. That was something that he never got used to,  that he could never get enough of.

"Yes, it is, but the friendly skies can't always help. When  bad things happen, you can fly around the world forever,  but inevitably, when you land, you're right back where you  were before," he said, noting the irony in his words as he  found that they were now right outside her brownstone. She  seemed to notice, too, and her smile contained an  understanding.

"That might be true," she said as they landed in a dark  spot behind the brownstone, out of the view of any  bystanders. "But when you're in pain, every little thing  helps. Take it from me, it can be unbearable sometimes, and  can make you forget the beauty that's out there. Sometimes  I think that you need to see that, to see the joy that the  world holds, just to keep everything in perspective." Her  expression was pained yet again as Clark bent over and set  her on the ground. He let his hands linger on her waist,  hoping that it would be comforting somehow, but as they  stood and looked into each others' eyes, he felt heat pass  between the connected surfaces. Immediately he looked away,  his hands flying away from her almost as if he had been  burnt by the contact. It would be so easy for both of them  to just give in to emotion right now, to let themselves get  carried away in their need for each other. It wouldn't be  too hard, he thought, as he summoned the look her eyes had  held only a moment earlier, one that spoke of desire, the  same desire that he felt stir inside himself as he touched  her. He would be lying if he said that something inside of  him didn't want that, but it wasn't what they needed. So  many issues were left on the table right now, issues that  would need to be sorted out sooner or later, issues that  would only grow if left ignored. No, it was far better to  save the desire for later, for some time when it could be  truly special.

Lois, whose eyes went wide with recognition, straightened  her posture and turned on her heel, taking off for the door  without a word. Clark quickly spun into his street clothes  again as he fell into step behind her. So far, his time  with her had been a series of rocky emotional ups and  downs, and as he followed her through the house, he briefly  wondered what would come next. It was then that he saw her  stop abruptly at the entrance of the living room, looking  down toward the floor. He tried to follow her gaze, but  only saw a throw rug, one that almost seemed out of place.  Something tickled the back of his mind, something that  seemed to hold the answer to the question of just what was  wrong, but it was wiped away by the gentle sound of her  sobs. Quickly, he came up behind her, daring to lay a hand  gently on her shoulder. She didn't flinch at all under his  touch, and as he stood by her side, he gazed intently at  the floor, opening his senses and trying to summon back the  vague notion of what it was affecting Lois so strongly. It  was then that it hit him, a smell that was subtle, yet  distinctive - the smell of death, the smell of blood. He  focused his eyes through the rug, seeing a dark stain on  the hardwood, one that told the story of the last minutes  of Lucy Lane's life. A sharp twinge of guilt coursed  through him, guilt for not being there when both of them  had needed him so badly. Lucy had laid on that floor  bleeding to death, and Lois had slowly slipped away from  reality, but he had been oblivious to it all. During the  day he tried to limit his appearances as Superman, if only  to give himself time to do his job at the Planet. He knew  that crime still happened when he was away, and that  sometimes people died, but it had always been a tradeoff he  had been willing to make, the price he had to pay for  living his own life. It hurt him that he had to make that  choice at all, but he had always told himself that he was  glad for any time that he was able to help as Superman,  because it was more than he had ever been able to help  before. But that tightrope walk had now cost the life of  someone dear to Lois, and he couldn't help but feel  responsible for that. It was his turn to play that what if  game, to wonder what would've happened if he had just  opened his ears and listened for that call, but he quickly  decided that it could only make him crazy.

As Clark tried to straighten the emotion within him, he  felt Lois breathe heavily a few times, a signal that she,  too, had finally gathered herself together. As she spoke,  her voice was small yet firm. "You have to take me back,"  she said into the depths of the living room.

"No," he said in an equally firm tone, earning a startled  glance from her. "I brought you here for a reason."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, and then turned  back toward the spot on the floor. It wasn't hard to sense  the dark thoughts she was thinking, the ones that were  undoubtedly asking why he felt the need to torture her, but  torture was the furthest thing from his mind. Maybe,  somehow, he had felt that she needed to chase away the  demons at home first. Or maybe he had thought that she  would be more comfortable at one of the few places on earth  that she has happy memories of, memories of a family that  loved her and cared for her, just like he did. But lost in  that line of reasoning had been the fact that Lucy's ghost  haunted this brownstone.

"Let's go into the other room," he said, hoping to take her  mind off Lucy. He removed his hand from her shoulder and  started to walk away, but Lois didn't follow him right  away. It was almost as if she hadn't heard him, but a  glance over his shoulder showed him that she had, and that  she was in conflict. She shifted her weight back and forth  between her feet while staring into the living room, then  shook her head once and turned toward Clark. They walked  together into the Lost and Found reception room, sitting  down in adjoining chairs. The brilliant afternoon light  streamed in through the windows behind them, the blinds on  the window contorting the rays into thin ribbons that  stretched across the wall in front of them. Reflected off  the white paint, the sun tried its hardest to cut through  some of the gloom in the room, but it wasn't helping. The  nagging stiffness of the chairs, the slightly worn fixtures  of the room, and the thin layer of dust that was building  up on everything created a counterpoint to the cheeriness  of the sun, making Clark frown for only a moment. It was  all too easy to get depressed at this time and in this  place, where so much bad has happened, but he wouldn't  allow that to happen, not to Lois, and most certainly not  to him.

"Do you know why it is that I took you out of there?" he  asked after a moment. He didn't turn to face Lois, instead  choosing to track the dust particles that floated in the  air, reflecting the rays of the sun and casting minute  shadows on the wall.

Lois stared straight ahead toward an unknown spot on the  wall and shrugged. "You're a sucker for a hard luck case?"  she said, the teasing tone that would generally accompany  such a statement completely gone from her voice.

Clark smiled anyway. "Because," he said, turning toward  her. "Criminal or not, I don't think you deserve to be in  that jail. When I think of the lives you've touched, the  people you've helped here in this very room, I know for  sure that it was the right thing to do."

Lois snorted diverted her eyes toward him. "I suppose you  think that operating this place was a selfless and giving  gesture, completely for the benefit for others. I hate to  tell you, but it all had an ulterior motive, Clark. I  benefited from the information they brought, and I used it  in my investigation into Luthor."

"Maybe, but does that make it selfish?" he shot back at  her, his eyebrows raised in challenge. "You kept logs of  the accomplishments of everyone who passed through the  doors of the agency, whether they were linked to your quest  or not. That doesn't sound like something that you would do  unless you truly cared about those people."

"How did you...?" she asked, surprised. At her words, he  got up and walked over to the desk that had been Lucy's.  Around it were photos, journals, and albums, all very much  out in the open, and all of which Lois had had a hand in  creating. He could see her handwriting on the captions, in  the notes, in the correspondence.

"Lucy and I talked once or twice. She showed me these," he  said, gesturing toward the items. "She told me about how  you would help these people and the smile it always seemed  to bring to your face. Every time I would think about  these, it would just make me feel warm inside, knowing that  that was the type of person that you truly were." Clark  regarded Lois for a moment before returning to his chair.  He reached out to hold her hand as he sat down, but she  pulled it away, seemingly more determined than ever.

"All the good in the world doesn't excuse the crimes I  committed, Clark. The only thing that can make them right  is for me to serve my time, and that's what I want to do."  Her jaw set in the same way that it had back at the police  station, and Clark felt his own indignation grow.

"The law is a funny thing, Lois. The rules we live by are  put in place for a reason, for the good on society. In a  perfect world, I would agree with you, but we don't live in  a perfect world. We live in a world with plea bargains and  parole boards, where time served is hardly ever the same as  the time sentenced to be served."

Her eyes narrowed and she started to say something, but  Clark held up his hand. What he had to say was too  important to be interrupted, and he was afraid that if she  started speaking, he would forget. "Lois, every day I pick  up criminals and bring them to the police. Most will argue  with you until they're blue in the face that they're  somehow innocent of their crimes, never mind the fact that  they were caught red handed. But in the back of their eyes  you can see that twinkle, the one that says that they knew  exactly what it was they were doing, and that they'd do it  again if given half a chance. Seeing that is enough to make  anyone cynical, but I refuse to fall into that trap because  I believe that, ultimately, the justice systems knows what  it's doing. Those who know what they've done, who are  remorseful and who have paid their debt to society will be  freed, and those who haven't, won't."

Clark leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees,  clasping his hands together and letting them hang in front  of him. His heard turned to the side and he locked onto her  eyes, studying them, penetrating into her soul. "Nobody can  argue that you're in the same class with those people,  because you aren't. You have to be blind not to see how the  death of your sister affected you, and how much regret you  feel for everything you've done. Some can say those  feelings are selfish, but I say that they show a rare  understanding, something so many people lack. I know that  you want nothing more than for this world to be a better  place, and while I don't agree with your methods, I don't  think your intentions were entirely wrong. The world will  be better for having you free, and I plan on doing  everything I can to make that happen."

As he finished, Clark searched her eyes for understanding,  and for a moment he thought he saw a crack in her armor.  Almost as quickly as he saw it, though, it went away again  as Lois closed herself off from his influence. "I haven't  paid any debt to society," she said, her tone still rigid.  "And I certainly haven't proven myself worthy of being  someone who should be here, with you. You're Superman, the  man who stands for virtue and truth and everything else  I've scorned for so long, and while I'm certainly flattered  that you have such a high opinion of me, I can't say that I  agree with your assessment."

Clark shook his head, knowing that it would come down to  this eventually. "I'm Superman, yes, but I'm no saint.  Who's to say that I'm even worthy of having someone like  you? To go out there at night and face your enemy, to fight  what seems like a hopeless fight against a man who has  people killed routinely, that takes courage. What I do  doesn't take any guts at all - I can't get hurt, and there  are no consequences for me if I mess up. I hide behind an  identity and conceal myself to everyone, including the ones  I love," he said, gesturing toward her. "At times, I've  been downright mean to you. Leaving you alone that night in  the other room, where your sister died...."

Clark felt his throat tighten up, and he had to look away.  At the time it had seemed like the thing to do, but now  that he'd had some time to think about everything, he  realized how horrible that must've been for her. To find  out that her sister had died and her boyfriend was really  Superman was a lot for a person to digest, but to have to  deal with it alone must have made it that much worse. He  was the last person she had left in the world, and it  angered him to think that he could just leave in such a  callous manner. Lois deserved better.

When he turned back toward her, he could see that her  expression had softened considerably. He almost thought  that he could make out a tear in the corner of her eye, but  with one quick blink it was gone. "It wasn't pleasant, but  at the same time, it made me think. That night was when I  resolved to do what was right, and for that reason I don't  hold any feelings of animosity toward you for leaving. If  you'd have stayed, I don't think I could've faced the  reality of the situation, the fact that I was only the one  to blame for the ruin that my life had become." Lois gave a  self-deprecating smile that quickly turned into a frown.  Clark reached out for her hands once again, and this time  she didn't draw away. Her gaze shifted into her lap, and  she let out a long, shuddering breath, one that almost  sounded like a sob. They had both learned lessons that  night thanks to the cruel hand of fate, but that was the  way that life worked. People didn't learn without having to  live through some hard times, and that was as true for him  as it was for her. She had learned the consequences of her  crimes, and he had learned that nothing was as  straightforward as it seemed. Happiness for them was long  overdue, and it was time for them to find it once and for  all.

"In a way, I suppose that whole fiasco was a blessing in  disguise. I sure won't take anything for granted anymore,"  Lois said with a shuddering voice, and Clark smiled.

"It makes you realize what you have, what your priorities  are, and what's worth hanging on to," he said as he  squeezed her hands. "Whether its right or wrong, I think  you're pretty great. And I promise I won't leave you  again."

Lois smiled even as she cried, raising her eyes to his.  What he saw was love in its purest form, breaking through  her resolve at last. They spoke to each other without  saying a word, expressing emotions that the English  language couldn't do justice to. Then, without hesitation,  she shot out of her chair and into his lap, devouring his  mouth. They were both hungry, all too anxious to make up  for the time that had been lost. The kiss lasted for  several long minutes before it finally died down, and Lois  situated herself on top of Clark, her body pressed into  his. She laid her head contentedly against his chest, and  he found himself enjoying the feeling of having her in his  arms again. He didn't know how he could ever have doubted  something that just felt so very right, something that made  him so very happy. Soon the only sound in the room was that  of their breathing, in unison. Neither of them needed to  say how close they had been to losing this, they both knew  it all too well. But that was not a concern anymore, now  that they had found peace.

***

Part 8

The sun had long since sunk below the skyline of the city,  leaving long shadows in the street and casting the  buildings into a gloomy grayness, one that wasn't quite  night and wasn't quite day. All over the city, streetlights  were beginning to flicker on, and those on the street where  Lois lived were no exception. The spot on the wall that had  once been bathed in bright sunshine was now being  illuminated by a sickly orange light, one that distorted  the shapes and shadows of everything in the room. Lois  supposed that, under normal circumstances, she would find  that to be profound. In a way, their lives had been cast  into a new light, one that distorted the reality that they  thought they had known, one that could make things look  uglier than they were. But the circumstances were not  normal, and she found that the play of light on dark, the  shadows that were everywhere in life, no longer held any  meaning to her. All there was now was Clark and the  happiness he brought her. She wasn't a creature of the  night anymore, slinking from dark spot to dark spot hoping  to avoid discovery - now that she had been unmasked, she  found herself wondering what the appeal of shadow was in  the first place.

As Lois took in a deep breath of air, she felt Clark's  chest rise underneath her own, an outward sign of their  unconscious connection, a link that she had spent the last  few hours exploring. All he had to do was look at her and  she found that she could feel his own emotion, that she  could almost read what it was he was thinking. It helped,  of course, that he had spent his time thinking of her. She  didn't know if that was a byproduct of where they were, or  what they had talked about earlier, but she just knew,  somehow, that he was thinking of her, and she knew with  certainty for the first time in a long time that those  thoughts were positive. He seemed so content, and for a  moment she let herself wallow in that feeling herself. As  she relaxed, she remembered other times when she had been  happy, times long ago in this very room. Fuzzy memories of  holidays past, of special events and rainy days, began to  surface, reminders of simpler times. She could almost smell  the pine needles from the fresh tree, almost smell her  mother's cookies baking in the oven, almost hear the rain  beating away against the glass behind her. The memories  were ghosts from times when her soul had been warmed, times  that had played over and over again in her mind, times that  had grown blurry because of the passage of years.

"Sometimes I wish I had a time machine," Lois said softly,  her voice cutting through the quiet of the room. "I would  give anything to go back, to see them one more time. I took  it for granted that they would always be there was I was  younger, and then, when they died...." she let out a sob  and had to pause before regaining her composure. "Then they  were gone, stolen from me in an instant. In my mind, I'll  always remember the good times, but I know that I didn't  always treat them well. I said some of the cruelest things  to them right before they died. If I could I would go back,  take those words away, and just look at them and feel their  love. You forget after a while, as horrible as that sounds.  You forget what their faces looked like, how their voices  sounded, what their mannerisms were. Every time I realize  that I've forgotten another detail about them, I feel like  a part inside me has died anew."

Clark wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she broke  down it tears, overwhelmed by the memories. Leaning his  cheek against her soft hair, he closed his eyes and let his  thoughts wander across the vast expanse of time and space,  to a planet long destroyed. "I never knew my real parents.  Many a night have passed with me staring up at the stars,  wondering how it was that I made the journey safely across  the light years that separated Earth from Krypton. Out of a  true act of selflessness and love, my parents saved me from  a dying world, even though they couldn't save themselves. I  wish I could see them just once and thank them for  everything. I'd like to show them who I've become, what  I've done. But I know that I can't. I think sometimes that  I can feel them looking out for me, you know? For years I  never knew how I came to arrive at the doorstep of Jonathan  and Martha Kent, but I always knew that my real parents,  whoever they were, loved me. I could just feel that."

Lois gently pulled away from him and tilted her head up,  her eyes meeting his. It was strange how much they had in  common, after all. Both their families had been taken away  from them by tragic events, he was just lucky enough to  have ended up with a new family who loved him as if he were  their own. She supposed she envied him for that, but she  couldn't hold it against him. If she had been adopted by a  family like the Kents, she probably would've turned out  much the same, too. They instilled him with an incredible  amount of caring and compassion, and enough patience to put  up with someone like herself.

His hand made contact with her chin, and with a gentle  motion, he drew his fingers up and caressed her cheek.  "Your parents, wherever they are, are looking out for you,  I'm sure. As the years go by and the memories slip away,  always remember that piece of them that you always keep in  your heart. Remember the love they felt for you and let  that sustain you. Whatever else may come, remember that  when you are loved, you are never alone."

His angelic face began to blur as tears formed in her  vision. She had known from the moment that she had first  laid eyes on Clark that he was something special. As they  had grown closer, she had seen glimpses of the depths of  his soul, but they had both actively kept each other at  arm's length. It had taken a near disaster for them to  finally be able to take down their barriers and show their  true selves. Neither of them were perfect; each of them  bore emotional scars. But that didn't matter, not when they  knew that they had each other.

"Am I loved, Clark?" she asked with a shaky voice. His eyes  became tender, and instead of answering her directly, he  leaned down towards her. Lois closed her eyes as she felt  his lips on hers. They brushed against each other gently,  teasingly, before he leaned in further, this time making  firm contact. As they kissed, Lois realized what a silly  question it had been. Of course she was loved, by him. In  the months they had been together, she had been kissed by  him before, but something about this one was different. It  only took a moment for her to realize what that difference  was. The other ones had all been timid, reserved. They had  both held back, probably scared of what would happen if  they were to truly let themselves go. But now they knew  everything about each other, and they accepted their  various imperfections.

Lois let her thoughts fade away as she lost herself in his  touch. After a few moments, he pulled away from her, and  Lois let out a small moan of disappointment as her eyes  lazily opened. Clark had a dazed expression on his face,  and she couldn't help but smile at that. He might be super,  but he obviously felt the fireworks between them.

"Does that answer your question?" he asked, a smile forming  on his face to match hers.

Lois giggled and let her hand linger on the broad expanse  of his chest. "I would say that it does, yes," she said  with a teasing tone in her voice. He looked at her, the  light that had been in his eyes brighter, somehow, than it  had been before. But it seemed that he was troubled, too.  Only a day or two earlier, Lois wouldn't have been able to  catch that, but she was getting to know him better with  each passing moment. And if she knew him, than the problem  was clear to her.

"What about you Clark? You have to know that you're not  alone, either. You'll never be alone again, at least not if  I have anything to say about it."

Ah, she did know him well. He seemed momentarily surprised,  but she could see the worry drop away as the smile on his  face finally reached his eyes. "Thank you, Lois," he  whispered as he drew her toward him once again. They sat  and held each other wordlessly, the sound of their  breathing the only thing that could be heard. Lois could  see herself spending the rest of her life just like this.  She would have never thought herself capable of being able  to love so strongly, but every time she looked at him,  thought about him, her heart swelled. She loved him, and he  loved her. That was what had ultimately carried them  through the last couple days, and hopefully would carry  them through whatever it was that would come.

But what was going to come, exactly? Up until a few hours  ago, she had just accepted the fact that she would be  spending a great deal of time behind bars. But that was  before Clark pried her eyes open and made her see that she  wasn't the monster that she thought she was. Deep down, a  part of Lois still felt obliged to go back to prison, to  truly make good in the eyes of the law. But a growing part  of herself was beginning to find hope, beginning to think  of a way to truly have her happily ever after. She didn't  know how she would get out of all her troubles, but it  occurred to her that Clark might. He obviously took her out  of prison for a reason, and while she was sure that making  her see her own self worth was part of it, there had to be  something else.

Lois shifted in his arms, snuggling up closer to him. "So,  Clark," she said, looking away. "What exactly do you see in  my future? I know it's hard to predict, even for someone as  talented as yourself, but I can't help but think that  you're a man of vision," she said, turning toward him as  she finished. Her smile was gentle and sincere but that  wasn't what she found Clark looking at. His eyes focused  steadily on her own, and she knew instantly that he had  understood her question.

She felt him move ever so slightly against her, then let  out a loud breath as he slowly started rubbing her arm. "I  see...a courtroom. Sitting at the defense's table, with his  barrage of high-powered lawyers in Armani suits, is one Lex  Luthor. On the witness stand is Lois Lane, renowned expert  on Lex Luthor and keeper of the most extensive body of  evidence from his various shady dealings throughout the  years. Her research was integral to capturing him and  building a case against him, and for that the prosecutor  has decided to give her a chance to plead guilty to a  misdemeanor charge."

Lois stared at him wide-eyed, processing what he was  saying. It sounded like he thought the district attorney's  office would somehow seek her out, then use her evidence,  most of which was inadmissible, in exchange for a plea  bargain. She found herself laughing gently as the absurdity  of it all began to sink in. Clark had to be kidding - no  prosecutor in their right mind would take the word of  someone like her, and they certainly wouldn't give her a  plea bargain for information that probably amounted to  almost nothing in the grand scheme of thing.

Clark's mouth turned up ever so slightly before a somewhat  hurt expression flashed across his face. Lois found her  laughter dying away as it occurred to her that maybe he  wasn't kidding. "Are you serious?" she asked, leaning away  from him slightly.

He favored her with a small nod and let the hands that had  been gently caressing her fall away. "Of course I'm  serious," he said. "Almost since the moment we met, you've  had me absolutely convinced of his guilt, and you've done  so by showing me evidence that is thorough and very  telling. I imagine that you've probably got a lot more  around, too, bits of information collected during your late  night escapades, things that nobody else has ever seen.  Although it was collected outside of legal means, your  evidence could play an important role in leading police  down the path to collecting information that IS admissible.  Certain people in the police office and the DA's office  would like nothing more that to nail Lex Luthor to the wall  - it's just a matter of getting them on your side."

"And how do I do that?" she asked, skeptical. He gave her a  gentle smile, one that she was beginning to label the  secret smile.

"Oh, you reach out to your connections, send out word to  the right people," he said, and Lois was beginning to  wonder for the first time if maybe he wasn't on the right  track.

"I don't suppose that you know anyone who has started  spreading the word?" she asked, feeling a tingle go up her  spine. She knew that he was very connected in both the  police department and the DA's office, and she also knew  that he wouldn't hesitate to act when he knew he was doing  the right thing. By doing so, he was putting his reputation  on the line, something that was the lifeblood of  journalists. He would be risking his credibility, and all  for her.

His lips pursed ever so slightly and he gave a small shrug.  They stared each other down for a second before he finally  gave a wide smile, and Lois finally had her answer. Yes, he  had put word out, and there was no turning back. A wave of  love swept over her, and Lois leaned back against his  chest, wrapping her arms firmly around him. She was a fool  to ever even think about giving up a man like this. By  themselves, they each changed the world somehow, just by  sheer force of will and personality. Together, as a team,  they could do things that neither of them could even dream.  They could truly move mountains if they so desired. More  importantly, together, as a true, honest, and open couple,  they could finally do the one thing that neither of them  had managed alone, and that was to put Lex Luthor behind  bars. The idea excited her, but the all-consuming zeal that  she once felt at the prospect was gone. Now there was only  the patience borne from years of waiting, and fostered by  her new partner. Bringing in Luthor would be fun for once,  it would be satisfying, and in the end, she knew, it would  be successful. They would be successful. And she couldn't  be happier.

***

The stenciled black letters on the frosted white glass of  the door announced that he had found the evidence locker, a  destination that apparently wasn't too popular with his  colleagues, judging from the deathly silence of the area.  Given the number of people that worked for the MPD,  Henderson had figured to run into at least a few of his  coworkers, but so far he had seen nobody. It was probably  for the best, he figured, especially given what it was that  he was searching for.

After some digging earlier that afternoon, Bill had  remembered where he had heard the name Nigel St. John  before. It was somewhat ghostly in the police community, a  name that seemed to pop up at odd times, usually mentioned  in passing as a suspect in shady homicide cases. Nothing  ever seemed to come of the leads on him, and he had never  been charged with any crimes, which was probably just as  well since nobody seemed to know who the man was. But  Henderson had heard through his connections that St. John  was currently residing in Metropolis, doing the dirty work  for Lex Luthor, the city's renowned philanthropist and, as  far as Henderson was considered, its top criminal as well.  No proof had even been collected to prove Henderson right,  but he knew it was only a matter of time before it did.  Which brought him here.

A quick cross reference of the crimes mentioned in  connection to St. John showed a smattering of unsolved  cases and even more built on nothing but circumstantial  evidence, the very type that Henderson considered flimsiest  and most suspicious. All that lacked was a common  denominator, something to tie them all together, which is  what brought him down to the darkest corner of the MPD  offices. It seemed odd to think that this search started  from nothing but a simple inquiry into a set of  fingerprints, but he just couldn't ignore the suspicious  buzzing in his subconscious whenever he thought of this  case. The veterans called that police instinct - Henderson  preferred to refer to it as a hunch. But his hunches more  often than not seemed to pay off.

After pulling the list of cases out of his pocket,  Henderson got down to business, pulling piles and gathering  them around a table, fighting a never ending battle against  the dust bunnies as he did so. One by one he studied the  files, making a detailed list of relatives, bosses,  friends, and other people that deceased had known. The  logistics of the crime itself were unimportant, though he  did find it interesting to read about some of the unusual  ways that some of them had ceased to be. What was important  was the account of evidence, and as Henderson continued  through the files, he noticed a pattern that hadn't been  entirely unexpected. In the era of scientific crime  fighting, where DNA samples convicted people on a routine  basis, there was a surprising lack of that type of evidence  in these cases. No stray hairs or bodily fluids, not even  so much as a fingerprint. Normally that could be attributed  to shoddy police work, but according to the reports he  read, the crime scenes had been thoroughly searched and  inventoried, but they had been completely clean. Prints had  been rubbed off surfaces, blood had been cleaned up, and  all traces of just who had committed the crime had  literally been washed away.

It was for that reason that St. John's named had been drug  into the mix. He had an aura of someone larger than life,  someone who always seemed to get away. It was odd, then,  that the detectives in charge of the cases hadn't made any  headway, if only because someone like St. John would be  considered to be a prime catch, the kind of thing that  careers were built on. Homicide detectives all seemed to  have egos the size of Alaska, while at the same time having  an eye for the finest of details. So why hadn't anyone  noticed the similarities in these cases? Why hadn't anyone  taken the time to assimilate the information that he was  currently gathering?

The process took the better part of a 12 hour shift,  although to Henderson it felt more like 12 minutes. The  yellow glow of the lights overhead seemed burned into his  soul as he started replacing the files, but he didn't feel  tired. The dust churned in the air again as he trudged  though the room, bringing box upon box back to the  perfectly bare and oddly dust-free spots on the shelves  where he originally found them. Once everything was back as  it was, he told himself, then he would look. Compiling,  assimilating, all that had been done without a thought to  the cases that came before it. Now, finally, he could take  that look, find that piece of the puzzle that made  everything fit together.

With a shaky hand, Henderson picked up his notebook and  started thumbing through the list, cross referencing names  and places, friends and enemies. The more names he  reviewed, the more something in the back of his mind tried  to break through, a vague notion of what it was that linked  everything together. He tried to access that thought, but  it remained elusive, waiting for that one word or name that  would set it free. Finally, unexpectedly, that named just  seemed to pop into Henderson's vision.

Stunned at the implications, Henderson could only blink for  a moment. It couldn't be true, could it? Quickly, he  thumbed through the names again, trying to verify his  hypothesis. In the end, though, there was no denying the  fact that it was true. And suddenly he could see why it was  that the crime scenes had been so clean, why it was that  nobody had been able or willing to solve these crimes. Some  villains were just too intimidating, too influential to be  stood up to, and Henderson wondered if he really wanted to  remember what it was that he had just found out, because it  almost seemed to him that knowing would put his life and  his career in jeopardy. But would it be worth it, if it  meant saving lives like those of the people whose deaths  had lead to this investigation?

Yes, it would be, he knew right away. It wasn't even a  question. But the investigation would go far more easily if  he had help. Men like Lex Luthor, the man who was the  common link in every murder that Henderson had read about  that night, could only be brought to justice with the  effort of a team of men, people who had principles and who  couldn't be bought. And Henderson knew just the man he  wanted on his team.

Quickly, he got up and left the archive, reaching for his  cell phone on the way. As he walked down the empty  corridors, he dialed the number that he knew so well,  hoping that it was just that link to Luthor that had  brought Kent to him in the first place.

***

As Clark began to stir, he became aware of a feeling of  weight on top of him. It wasn't an uncomfortable feeling,  or even an odd feeling, although it probably should've  been. It wasn't every morning that a person awoke to find a  beautiful woman sleeping on top of them; in fact, as far as  Clark could remember, this was a first for him. He shifted  his arm and felt her move ever so slightly against him,  causing ripples of awareness to course through him,  accompanied by thoughts of the night before.

Clark had to smile as he reveled in the memories. They  probably could've done any number of things to usher in the  new era of their relationship, but in the end they had laid  down on the couch and just talked. Clark told her his  innermost thoughts and secrets, and she had opened her soul  to him. For the first time, he felt as if he actually knew  who she was, but the odd thing was that it hadn't done  anything to change how he felt about her. He could only  love her as she told about all she had to endure, and he  could only be grateful for the fact that she had turned out  to be who she was. As the hours had worn on and the stories  had been told, they had both drifted off to sleep in each  other's arms, content to just be together.

So this is what it felt like, Clark thought. To tell the  truth, he had always wondered how it was that men and women  were able to live together, to put up with the little  nuances and annoyances that made them who they were. He had  wondered how love could forgive so many things, but not  anymore. As he opened his eyes and looked upon Lois's  sleeping form, he could see himself spending forever with  her, for better or worse, no matter what little things came  between them. Love was that strong, and there was just no  fighting it.

The sharp chirping of his cell phone ringer jolted him out  of his thoughts. Clark reached up toward the end table and  felt around for the phone. As his hand finally hit it, he  felt Lois shift on top of him.

"Just a few more minutes. Don't wanna go to school," she  mumbled, reaching her hand up as if to hit an imaginary  alarm clock.

Clark smiled as he let her roll over. He sat up slightly,  positioning himself so that she gently rolled off of him  and back onto the sofa. Twisting, he sat up and pulled away  from her, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Clark Kent," he said, hoping that his voice didn't give  away the fact that he had just woken up.

"Clark, I'm glad I found you," came the excited voice of  Bill Henderson. "I got the results of your query, and a bit  more on top of that," he said.

Clark raised his eyebrows, any remnants of sleep quickly  fading away. "Oh?"

"Well, for starters, the prints on the picture you  mentioned were for a man named Nigel St. John," Henderson  said.

"Why does that name sound so familiar?" Clark thought  aloud. He knew he had heard it before, but just where and  under what circumstances eluded him.

"Yeah, I asked myself the same question. St. John's name is  mentioned in a lot of shady murder cases, so I did some  digging. Come to find out, the cases that he was mentioned  in connection with all had one other common denominator:  Lex Luthor."

Clark frowned. Of course - Nigel St. John was Luthor's  number two. That was a good enough link to drag Luthor's  name into the equation, but it wasn't enough to build much  of a case on. As Clark looked back toward the couch, it  occurred to him that Lois had enough evidence to solidify  that link, to start building something solid. "How strong  is your connection, Bill?" Clark asked, a plan forming.

"Well," Henderson said, then seemed to hesitate.  "Truthfully, it's weak at best. It'll take a lot of work to  pour through the evidence logs and cross reference those to  the information that the crime lab has, but I think I can  build a case from there."

"What if I told you that I know someone who can help you  out," Clark asked, noticing how Lois seemed to stir at his  words.

The other end of the line went silent for a moment. "I  would be very interested in picking their brain," he said  finally.

"I'll have to confer with them first, but how about we meet  over lunch. We could meet at noon at Emerson's Caf‚." Lunch  was fairly innocent, Clark thought. The atmosphere at a  caf‚ or any other neutral public site would take away the  stresses associated with the police station or the Daily  Planet, for instance. Sometimes, just being someplace  relaxing helped to take the objectivity away from a person,  making them more agreeable. Honestly, he didn't know if  Lois would be willing to cooperate or not, but he hoped for  her sake that she did. Henderson was one of the good guys,  someone who Clark knew thought as unfavorably about Luthor  as she did, he just had to make her see that.

"See you then," Henderson said, and hung up. It occurred to  Clark that noon was usually the detective's time for rest,  but if he knew Henderson as well as he thought he did, then  the case would come before insignificant things such as  sleep.

Clark pressed a button on his phone and set it back on the  end table. As he leaned over Lois, she turned her head to  look at him, cracking her eyes open and squinting in his  direction. For a moment, Clark had to stifle a laugh at her  appearance. It's been said that one never truly knows a  person until they wake up next to them in the morning, when  neither of them has had time to primp themselves or  otherwise make themselves presentable. As Lois looked at  him, her disheveled hair creating an irregular halo around  her head, she looked very comical, yet at the same time  very beautiful. Clark was sure that he was quite a sight  himself - man of steel or not, there wasn't much you could  do to prevent bedhead. The smile died on his lips as he  wondered how she saw him now, in his most raw form. Her  eyes opened further as she looked at him quizzically, and  all of a sudden, he found himself smiling at her. It didn't  take long for a smile to creep across her face, and it  seemed to Clark that the whole world had faded away in the  glow of her beautiful, if not somewhat groggy, smile. They  sat in silence for a long while, content in what would  normally be an eerie silence, and Clark couldn't help but  notice the fact that the feelings they shared felt  different than anything previously. There was no heat, no  hint of barely contained passion, like there had been last  night. There was only contentment, and an incredibly  domestic feeling that had no business being in the presence  of an arsonist and a superhero. The exchange stretched out  several long, happy moments before Lois finally broke their  connection by turning away and running a hand through her  hair.

"Who was that?" she rasped as she sat up. Clark scooted  back on the sofa until he was sitting next to her again.

"Inspector Henderson, Metropolis PD. I talked to him  yesterday about your sister's case, and after some  investigation, he found a link to Lex Luthor."

The hand that was still running through her hair froze for  a moment as Lois's eyes went wide. She sat completely still  for what seemed like eons, staring at some distant point on  the opposite wall, before she finally turned toward Clark  again.

"And you told him that I would be able to help him  establish a case?" she said slowly.

Clark shrugged. "I know you have a lot of information on  Luthor. I just thought that it might give Henderson a  better shot at really nailing him if you shared what you  had."

Lois tugged her hand out of her hair and turned sideways on  the couch so that she was sitting cross-legged, facing him.  "Clark, whatever I have won't mean anything to anyone who's  serious about prosecuting Luthor. Like I said last night, I  obtained most of it through illegal means, and the  activities they detailed were either covered up or pinned  on someone else a long time ago."

"That may be," Clark responded. "But, again, it at least  gives Henderson an idea of what Luthor was up to and where  he can go to collect information that WOULD be admissible.  Besides, let's not forget that you can help prove the case  against Lex on the whole heat wave deal."

Lois's nose wrinkled briefly as she processed what Clark  was saying. "Yes, I was at that warehouse, and yes, there's  a picture that proves it," she said distantly. "And  although I produced evidence that would implicate someone  in Lex Corp, it isn't the type that could convict Lex." Her  eyes focused on his face, and suddenly she seemed very much  the professional that he had always known her to be. "I've  seen it happen time and time again, Clark. You and I both  know that it was Lex behind the heat wave, but the evidence  is circumstantial enough that it would be very hard to  prove our case. He'd just implicate one of his underlings  in the scam, just like he always does, and they wouldn't  put up too much of a protest, because they'd know what  would happen to them and their families of they did. No, we  need to catch him red handed."

Clark smiled as he caught the meaning of her words. "We?"

Lois cocked an eyebrow at him and smiled crookedly back.  "Yes, we. If Henderson wants to know what I know, I say  that's fine. Let the police look into what he's done in the  past. I want to look at what he's going to do in the  future, and I want to get him in the act. Of course, I want  the police to be there when that happens, but...." Her  slightly playful expression turned devious. "I suppose I  could strike a deal that would make such an endeavor  worthwhile to both them and me."

Clark nodded, marveling at her tenacity in the face of a  monumental task. She had laughed when he suggested the same  thing the night before, but now she it looked like she  convinced herself that it was the right course to take.  What a difference a day made when it came to her  confidence. The woman who sat in front of him now almost  seemed like the Lois he remembered, the one who was driven,  who didn't stop at anything. That was the woman he fell in  love with, and he was glad to have her back.

He suspected that a large part of Lois's comeback stemmed  from that grain of hope he had implanted in her. That hope  rested on the possibility of being able to prove herself,  to make good by the world, and his plan on bringing that to  her had been considered a long shot at best. Truth be told,  he had wholeheartedly expected the photograph that Lucy had  held to be wiped clean of prints, and that he would have to  end up groveling to the DA to open an inquiry into Lex  Luthor. But all the cards had fallen his way, and it was  time to take advantage of it. If Henderson was truly  dedicated to catching Lex Luthor, than Clark could see the  police going to the DA to let Lois help them, to strike up  any deal necessary to get her cooperation. That one set of  fingerprints that Henderson found on that photograph was  probably all that stood between freedom and dozens of years  behind bars for Lois.

Clark knew that Lois was thinking just the same thoughts as  he was, and he smiled at her, silently voicing his support.  "I get the exclusive, of course," he said mischievously.

Lois leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.  "Of course. But let's not count our chickens before they  hatch. The first priority is getting to Lex, and I think I  might know a way to do that." With that, Lois abruptly  stood up and made a beeline for the staircase. "But we have  to get to work, partner," she threw over her shoulder as  she reached the stairs. "So I suggest we freshen up and  meet back here in an hour."

"Okay," Clark replied as he watched her climb the stairs.  When Lois got down to business, she really got down to  business, but in this case he didn't blame her. The faster  they got a lead on Luthor, the better it would be for her,  for them. With a decisive nod, Clark rose from the couch  and headed toward the back door of the brownstone. As soon  as he was out the door, he spun into the suit and took off  into the air, feeling suddenly giddy. He could feel the  resolution coming, and couldn't wait. It took all his  willpower to hold himself back, to reign in his speed and  enjoy this small respite before the real work began. Even  though he COULD take a shower in five seconds, Lois still  needed her time, and he needed her to build the case. And  oh, what a case it would be.

***

"Project Shockwave," Lois said as she slapped a folder onto  the massive oak desk in front of him. The room they were in  was lined with filing cabinets, and the only illumination  came from the dull fluorescent light overhead. The desk was  very old, and from the looks of it, very well used. An  overstuffed leather office chair stood behind Lois,  dwarfing the small folding chair that Clark found himself  sitting on. It was apparent to him that this room didn't  get many visitors, and he thought he knew why. Curious, he  had taken a peek inside one of the cabinets as he had  entered the room, and he had seen all manner of papers and  documents, all relating to Lex Luthor. This room had to be  Lois's own personal office, and, judging by the heaviness  of the locks on the door, the location where she kept all  her valuable information.

Clark picked up the folder from the desk and quickly  flipped though it. Project Shockwave was a government  contract for costal defense, a contract that was won by Lex  Luthor. Clark looked up from the folder, not sure what Lois  was getting at. The vote for this project had been months  ago, and the system was already in place and in the testing  phase.

Apparently his expression had gotten his point across. "I  investigated this when it was current." Lois said.  "Typically, government contracts are very competitive,  drawing many bidders and a lot of scrutiny from the  legislature. This one, though, went through amazingly fast  and with very little opposition. Because it dealt with  Luthor, I did some snooping, and found out that the wheels  had been significantly greased, to the tune of several  million dollars."

"But that was months ago," Clark retorted, still confused.  The file had more or less outlined what she had said,  although nowhere had Lex been mentioned specifically. Just  like with everything else, the evidence was more  circumstantial than anything else.

"Yes, but it shows that Lex is not above influencing house  and senate votes for his own gain. Now," she said as she  turned around and pulled another folder from atop one of  the filing cabinets. "Fast forward to this week. The newest  big deal contract is for the continental ballistic missile  shield, a pet project of the president. Normally, Lex's  shakedown of the defense committee would be enough to buy  him quite a few big ticket contracts, but with the recent  election came a new group of representatives and a new  makeup for the committee."

Clark nodded, considering the possibilities. "When the new  session of congress begins, he'll want to have the new  committee members in his pocket, so you think that he'll be  approaching them and making them offers that can't be  refused."

Smiling, Lois nodded. "All you have to do is catch him in  the act, maybe get a few of our elected officials to talk,  and he's nailed. The feds don't take to kindly to  defrauding the government."

On the desk was a legal pad and a mug filled with pens.  Clark quickly grabbed a writing implement and pulled the  paper in front of him, making an outline on the sheet in  front of him. "Catching Luthor would mean overhearing the  conversation and catching it on tape somehow. I would  imagine that he'd be very cautious about where the  conversations took place, so I don't think that'll be very  easy."

Lois began to pace back and forth, her hands planted firmly  on her hips. "Not exactly," she said. "I would think that  all you would need was a picture of the representative with  Lex, maybe a printout of his most recent bank statement,  and I bet he sings like a canary."

Blackmail, then. Clark wrote down what she said, but he  frowned internally at the thought. There was something  underhanded about it all, but he supposed blackmail of this  sort would almost be necessary against someone like Lex.  The man was a wizard at hiding his tracks, and he got away  with it because his employees and business associates all  knew what would happen when they crossed him. Dealing with  elected officials, however, was a different story entirely.  With them, it was all about enticements and politics. As  much as he hated to admit it, Clark knew that a large part  of playing the political game was dangling an imaginary  carrot in front of the various political figures and hoping  that they'd take the bait. Their evidence, coupled with the  fact that Clark was a reporter for one of the country's  most respected newspapers, would be more than enough to  counter whatever Lex decided to offer..

"So I'll be following the representatives, then?" he asked  without looking up.

"Well, one of the conditions of my release was that I not  leave New Troy," Lois said, stopping her pacing and leaning  over the desk. "Besides, most of those politicians probably  aren't in Washington right now. You have to admit that you  can get around the country a little better than most people  can," she said. Clark looked up toward her and saw her  regarding him with an almost pleading expression. He gave  her a reassuring smile as he laid his hand on hers.

"It's fine, Lois," he said.

"But are you sure you're okay with this?" Lois asked as she  sat down. Her hand turned under his, wrapping it in a  comforting grip. Clark marveled again at they way she was  able to read him, to understand what he was thinking.

"I admit it's not the most orthodox method of catching a  criminal, but I understand why it needs to be done this  way. Don't worry about me," he said with a smile, giving  her hand a light squeeze. Her worried expression softened,  and she turned her gaze toward the pad of paper.

"While you're busy doing that, I'll be here pouring through  the house voting records, the financial statements of the  representatives, and whatever else I can think of." She  paused and looked at him for a moment, then brought her  free hand up and pointed at the paper. "You might want to  write that down," she said.

Clark blinked, not realizing that he had been lost in her.  Quickly he scribbled down the notes and pulled his hand  away from hers. The connection was wonderful, but it was  also distracting, and that was the last thing he needed  right now.

"I guess my next question is, what's the time frame on  this?" he asked as he leaned back in his chair.

Lois looked at her watch, and then back at him. "Well, at  lunch we talk to your inspector friend. We have until then  to make a game plan and gather up some information, and  then I say that we get started in earnest after lunch."

It was an ambitious plan, but Clark expected no less. He  would have to call his boss and let him know that he was  hard at work securing an exclusive for the Daily Planet,  but Clark was sure that Perry would understand. It would  only take a few dropped hints for Perry to see how big this  story had a chance to be. With any luck, his byline would  be on the front page in a matter of days, the story beneath  it detailing the dramatic end to one of the most  influential men in the world. Clark couldn't wait.

"Great, let's get to work."

***

Henderson fought his way through the busy lunchtime crowd  and entered the cafeteria, shielding his eyes as the bright  sun was left behind. It took him a few moments to adjust to  the relative darkness of the interior, but as everything  began to come into focus again, he was immediately able to  pick out Clark Kent, seated at a booth next to woman.  Henderson knew she should be familiar to him, but her name  seemed to escape him at the moment. As he approached the  table, they seemed oblivious to him, and he was able to  observe certain almost intimate gestures, things that would  seem inconsequential to anyone who didn't make a career out  of observing others. But he had seen this type of behavior  before, and he could see just by the way they looked at  each other that there was something going on between them.

Suddenly, Clark stilled and looked up, catching Henderson  just as he was about to sit down. His cheeks reddened  fractionally, and immediately the two of them scooted apart  on the bench, both assuming detached expressions, ones that  tried to convey the fact that they were both professionals.  But Henderson wasn't buying it.

"Clark," Henderson said as he sat down. Clark nodded his  head once in acknowledgment.

"Bill," he said then gestured to his companion. "Detective  Henderson, this is Lois Lane. Lois, Bill Henderson."

Bill stilled as he immediately recognized the name. Lane  was the woman who Clark had asked about, the one whose  sister had been killed. She was also the woman with the  incredibly long rap sheet, who until recently had been  calling the city jail home. Warning bells went off in  Henderson's head as he recalled the tender looks that they  had given each other only a few moments earlier. He had  never figured Kent to be the type to associate with  criminals, but as he was finding out recently, Bill didn't  really know as much as he thought he did.

"Ms. Lane," he said politely, reaching for her hand. It  also occurred to Bill that Clark had said that he was going  to introduce him to someone who was an expert on Lex  Luthor. His eyes narrowed briefly as he looked at her, then  he made his expression as neutral as possible. If she was  that expert, this case could get a lot more interesting  before it was all said and done.

"Inspector," she said as she locked his hand in a  surprisingly strong grip. Before the conversation could go  any further, a waiter approached the table and took their  drink orders. As the waiter cleared away, Bill looked  across the table again, regarding his two companions. He  trusted Clark implicitly, and no reservation about sharing  his discoveries, but someone with the reputation of Lois  Lane...that was a whole other matter entirely.

"So, Clark," Bill started, his eyes shifting toward Lois  before settling on Clark again. "I hear that you might have  information about our mutual friend that would help me in  my case."

Clark turned his head toward Lois and smiled, then regarded  Henderson again. "It's not me so much as Lois. She's spent  many years getting well acquainted with him, gathering  information, and tracking his movements."

"I'm sure," Henderson replied, aware of the stoniness that  had entered his voice. As he looked toward Lois again, he  found her eyes locked on his, her expression passive. Her  crime had been arson, and if Henderson recalled correctly,  most of the places she had torched were affiliated with  Luthor somehow. The information she had gathered was  probably all that remained of some of those places, and if  that was the case, then it would be generally frowned upon  to be in possession of it. "But something tells me that  I'll have no use for the type of information that she  undoubtedly has."

Lois frowned slightly, then leaned forward, placing her  elbows on the table. "I beg to differ," she said, her voice  soft and steady, yet still intense. "I imagine right now  you have a lot of interesting information pertaining to  unsolved cases. There's enough there to make you suspect,  but it doesn't leave you with any idea where to start.  That's where I come in. My evidence might not be valid in  and of itself, but it is that magical starting point that  you don't have. It'll tell you where to look if you want  more information, and it'll tell you what actually happened  when all your unsolved crimes were taking place. One would  think that you'd find such a thing very valuable."

As she finished, Lois continued to look at him intently,  her gaze almost seeming to bore through him. She was  definitely not the type of person who should be  underestimated, he thought. And she did have a point - the  leads on the cases he had had either run dry or been  covered up a long time ago, and if she could give him that  information, then it would definitely be to his benefit.  But why would she be so willing to just hand it to him?  Considering the fact that it was the set of prints found at  her sister's murder scene that led to this investigation in  the first place, he shouldn't be surprised at all. But her  sister had only died a couple of days ago, and she'd  apparently been investigating Luthor for quite some time.  No, there was more to this story.

"What do you get out of this?" Henderson asked, cutting to  the chase. Lois's stony fa‡ade broke as she smiled, looking  sweet and mischievous at the same time.

"I know full well who killed my sister, and I know it was  supposed to be me who died and not her," Lois said, her  smile fading slightly. "Lex Luthor has been one of the few  constants in my life, always hovering over me like a dark  storm cloud. If I could help to finally put him away, I  would be very happy." Her smile widened as she continued.  "But I do think that you can help me in another way."

Henderson immediately turned to Clark, the fire welling up  inside of him. There was no doubt what that "other way"  would be, and he was sure that Clark knew, too. For a  moment, Henderson felt a flash of betrayal, certain that  Clark had deceived him. So much for Kent being the last  honest reporter. At the same time, though, as he looked at  Clark, he saw pleading in his eyes, and it surprised him.  It had been obvious that he had feelings for this woman, so  maybe his deceit was more of a love-clouded error in  judgment.

"Lois has had a hard life," Clark said evenly. "I know she  has committed some wrongs in the past, but she has also  done a lot of good. You know that I wouldn't have brought  her here if I didn't have faith in her, and if I didn't  know it was the right thing to do. We all want to bring  down Lex Luthor, and with Lois helping, we can."

It was wrong, Henderson told himself. It was blackmail. But  hadn't he done such a thing before? Hadn't he helped to  pardon drug dealers in exchange for their testimony against  their bosses? Hadn't he forgiven mafia underlings in  exchange for information of their families? Was this really  any different? The more he thought about it, the more he  realized that it wasn't any different at all.

The waiter set the drinks on the table and started taking  their orders, and for a moment Henderson felt the urge to  get up and leave right then and there. His resolve at the  moment was pretty strong, but he was almost afraid to wait  any longer, fearing that his good will toward Lois Lane  would vanish once he got a chance to talk with her a  little, to get to know her for who she is.

"Sir?" the waiter asked. Apparently Lois and Clark had  already given their orders, and now it was his turn. Bill  played with the straw in his drink for a moment and looked  up toward Clark, trying to decide what his course of action  should be. It was then that their eyes met, and Henderson  felt the most incredible feeling of rightness coming from  Clark. His jaw was firm, but his eyes told Henderson that  maybe it was something more than pure love that was driving  Clark to help this woman who had done such wrong in the  past. Maybe it was his sense of justice, and that almost  made sense to Henderson. There certainly was justice to be  done in bringing Lex Luthor in, and whatever Lois had done  was no match for the incredible crimes that Luthor had  perpetrated. Dropping his eyes again, Henderson took a deep  breath and turned toward the waiter.

"Philly cheese steak, fries," Henderson said, handing the  waiter the menu. For a moment, he could swear he heard a  sigh of relief from across the table, but as he regarded  Lois and Clark again, he saw nothing that would  substantiate it. They were both looking at him quietly, a  question on their faces.

"I will go to the DA after lunch," he said. His words  brought a relieved smile from Lois as her hand reached out  for Clark's. "But I need to know what exactly it is I say  to them," he finished.

Lois and Clark looked at each other again, then turned in  unison back toward Henderson. "We have started an  investigation," Clark said. "Lois can fill you in on the  details after lunch, but the gist of it is that we suspect  Luthor is buying off congressmen for large government  contracts."

"Clark is going on a bit of surveillance after we're done  here," Lois continued immediately. "You can work with me,  gathering information, while he's gone. We'll need you to  coordinate your forces when it comes time to make an  arrest, but we don't anticipate this operation taking more  than a couple of days."

"Any longer than that, and we give Luthor too much time to  cover his tracks," Clark finished without missing a beat.  Henderson was amazed at how they fed off each other as they  spoke. Maybe it had been wrong of him to think that getting  to know Lois would make him less likely to help her. On the  contrary, just from the way she interacted with Kent he  could tell that maybe there was a reason Clark was with her  after all. Only time would tell how it ended up, of course,  and without knowing any details, he had no idea how this  operation would turn out. But between his open cases,  Lois's information, and Lois and Clark's current  investigation, there should end up being more than enough  to get Luthor.

Henderson nodded and settled into his seat. His day had  been very long already, and he suspected that it would get  a lot longer before it was all said and done. But  considering what the outcome would likely be, he couldn't  complain.

***

The sun was starting to cast long shadows as Clark made his  way to the neighborhood park. In the distance, he spotted a  bench and quickly walked toward it, reaching inside his  jacket for his cell phone as he did. The chilly wind  whipped the last remaining leaves off the trees, sending  them swirling along his feet as he walked, but he found  that he was in too good a mood to notice the inconvenience.  He settled onto the bench and stared out over the town as  he dialed the number on the phone. In the distance, he  could hear a train rattling by on the tracks, slowing down  as it reached the local grain elevator, which was clearly  visible over the neat roofs and manicured trees of the  town.

In a way, it was a sight that was very familiar to him, or  to anyone who came from the Midwest. Every county of every  state in the grain belt probably had a similar town, one  that was big enough to have some industry, but was still  centered around agriculture. A town where you could still  get an ice cream cone at the Dairy Queen in the summer or  go ice skating on the local farm pond in the winter. It was  easy for Clark to feel nostalgic about such a place,  especially after stopping in the local caf‚ to sample the  homemade apple pie, but nostalgia wasn't the reason he was  here at all.

As he listened to the phone ring in his ear, Clark tried to  mentally sort out the events that had brought him to this  little park in southwest Iowa, seemingly far away from  anything relating to Lex Luthor or the case they were  trying to build against him. Clark had to admit that when  he woke up this morning, he had no inkling that he would  find himself here, but that was before he and Lois had  started researching in earnest. It was before they had  managed to get a hold of the flight plan for Luthor's Lear  jet and started cross referencing it with the known  residences of the freshman House defense committee members.  It had been apparent that Luthor had been busy for the last  couple days, traveling to most of the locations while Lois  and Clark were still trying to work through their emotional  upheaval. Fortunately, he still had two stops to make that  day, first in Reno, Nevada, and finally right here in  Creston, Iowa. Clark had flown into town immediately after  lunch, arriving just in time to see a rented Lincoln pull  away from Luthor's personal plane and start toward town.  Clark had followed from high in the air, patiently waiting  as the Lincoln wound through the city streets, finally  stopping in front of a small, unassuming office building  that housed the law practices of John Fennelly, rookie  representative and defense committee member. It was then  that Clark had slipped out of the sky and headed toward the  diner that sat across the street from the office.

The lunchtime crowd had just been winding down as Clark had  found a seat in a booth in front of the diner's large glass  window. The old farmers sat at the counter, eyeing him  strangely, murmuring about the weather and trends in the  grain market as they watched. Clark supposed that this cafe  didn't see a whole lot of strange men in business attire,  so they were probably right to be suspicious, but after a  warm smile and a nod, they seemed to relax and ignore him  again. The waitress took his order for a slice of pie, and  as she headed back toward the kitchen, he finally let  himself get down to business. Gazing intently at the  building across the street, he watched the walls melt away  until he could see clearly into the back office, where  Luthor and a man that Clark could only assume was John  Fennelly were in a heated discussion. Concentrating on the  room, the background noise of the cafeteria faded away, and  he was able to zero in on the voices of the men across the  street.

The shakedown was pretty routine, Clark had thought as he  listened. Luthor played it up as if he was Fennelly's best  friend in the world, then waved enough cash in his face to  make the new representative the richest man in town. Every  now and then a menacing word or inflection would be  uttered, and Clark could see the representative squint his  eyes ever so slightly in reaction. Fennelly seemed  oblivious to Luthor's charms, icily shaking his hand as his  guest stood up to leave. Luthor turned around and reached  for the door handle, then stopped suddenly, pulling his  hand away and reaching into the breast pocket of his  jacket. Fennelly stilled, his posture stiff and straight,  and watched as a stack of large bills and a picture were  tossed onto his desk.

"Your wife is a very beautiful woman," Luthor had said,  nodding to the picture he had just thrown on the desk.  "When she gets excited, her eyes light up and her laughter  fills the room. If she had one flaw, it's maybe that she's  a little too trusting of strangers."

Fennelly balled his hands into fists behind the desk, his  outward expression completely calm, but his rising heart  beat giving away the anger he felt. "Stay away from her,"  he said calmly, his tone so even that it was almost  menacing.

A sinister chuckle escaped Luthor's lips. "Become a team  player, and I might just consider that. But if you don't,  there are no guarantees. And maybe the next stranger won't  be as friendly as I was." With that, he turned and left the  building.

Clark had drawn his attention back to the diner, aware that  a warm slice of pie was now sitting on the table in front  of him. His eyes only lingered on the waiting dessert for a  moment before he hastily reached into the bag he had been  carrying, pulling out a brand new digital camera. As Luthor  exited the building across the street, Clark took several  pictures, making sure to frame the name of the building so  that the location would be easily recognizable. After a few  moments, Luthor stepped back into his car and left. Clark  pulled the camera away from his face and pressed a few  buttons, causing the images he had just snapped to appear  on a small screen on the back. He was definitely no  professional photographer, but they were good enough for  his purposes. Smiling, he had placed the camera in his bag  and picked up a fork, regarding the pie in front of him. He  could afford to take the time to enjoy it, he supposed as  he glanced across the street. After a few quick bites, he  was done, and ready to visit Fennelly.

The representative had eyed him suspiciously at first, but  as Clark had explained who he was, what he was there for,  and presented his press credentials, Fennelly had opened  up, becoming extremely open and helpful.

Clark was suddenly snapped out of his introspection by a  familiar voice in his ear. "Lane here," he heard, causing  his smile to widen. Her voice sounded very curt and  businesslike, but it wouldn't be long before she shared the  enthusiasm that he felt.

"Greetings from the tall corn state," he said, letting his  smile creep into his voice.

"Clark, hi. How'd it go?" Lois asked, her tone suddenly  much friendlier. A feeling of warmth washed over Clark, and  he suddenly wished that he was back at her side again, but  he quickly pushed it away. There would be plenty of time  for that soon enough.

"Very well," he responded. "Turns out that there are a few  honest politicians out there, and John Fennelly is one of  them. He was suspicious of Luthor to start with, and the  threats against his family were more than enough to  convince him that Luthor wasn't someone to mess around  with. He probably wouldn't have said anything if I hadn't  come along, but he's now agreed to offer his testimony  against Luthor."

"Did he agree to swear out a warrant?" Lois asked, a note  of hope in her voice, strengthening Clark's resolve to  follow through and make it all right. After so much  waiting, so much false optimism, so many dead leads, this  could finally be it. If Clark had anything to say, Lex  Luthor would never hurt anyone anymore.

"He's done one better than that," Clark said in a serious  tone as he stood up again and started to pace. "He's agreed  to come to Metropolis and set up a meeting with Luthor. If  we can get the cooperation of the Metropolis PD, Fennelly  should be able to get Luthor to say enough to hang himself.  In two days time, this WILL be over," he said definitively,  punching the air with his index finder. His heart raced in  anticipation and he stilled, finally letting the  seriousness melt away. The other end of the line remained  silent, but he could hear the rush of air past the  microphone as she breathed, almost as if she expected  something else.

"And then we can be together," Clark added softly, stating  the final outcome of the case that neither of them had  allowed themselves to say.

"Oh, Clark," Lois said, seemingly on the verge of tears.  Clark closed his eyes and breathed heavily, turning his  face upwards toward the heavens. As he opened his eyes  again, he could see the brilliant oranges and reds filling  the sky above him, almost making it look as if the sky  itself were on fire. Maybe it was a heavenly sign, but when  he looked at the fire above him, he thought of nothing but  how beautiful it was. It was nothing compared to the beauty  of the woman who was on the phone with him now, though, the  woman whose life would forever be colored by the flames she  had brought in the past.

"I love you, Clark, and it's not just because of this. It's  because of everything, your faith in me. I wish I could hug  you right now," she said, the heaviness in her voice giving  way to an almost wistful longing. He sighed.

"I wish you could, too. But I won't officially be home  until tomorrow." As he spoke, he brought his attention back  to the park, and the skeletons of trees that stood around  him.

"What about unofficially?" Lois asked.

"Unofficially, I'll be there in about 5 minutes to have a  talk with Inspector Henderson. I have a plan, and will  involve the help of my other guise."

Clark could almost hear her smile through the phone. "I  might need to have a talk with, uh," she said, and he could  hear her walking. "Superman," she whispered, then cleared  her throat and continued in a normal voice. "I have some  matters I need to discuss with him, too."

"Really?" Clark asked, a lopsided grin forming on his face.

"Yes, really. Anyway, I should probably let you get back to  work. See you *tomorrow,* Clark."

"Bye," he said, then flipped the phone closed, allowing a  small chuckle to escape as he did. He never really thought  that it would be particularly fun to have Lois in on his  secret, but it seemed that it might have its benefits,  after all. He would have to be careful, of course, but only  in public. In private, he wouldn't have to worry about  deceiving her anymore.

Clark shoved his cell phone back into his coat pocket and  started walking toward the far corner of the park, away  from the prying eyes for the neighborhood. It was time to  go home.

***

Part 9

Lois sat in the center of her office, papers and notes  spread out in front of her, but she found that she couldn't  concentrate on them anymore. She turned her attention  toward Henderson, who was standing in front of one of the  filing cabinets, pouring through her evidence and making  notes to himself on a legal pad. Aside from taking time to  ask her a few questions, he had pretty much left her alone,  which was just fine with her. It wasn't that she didn't  like Henderson, exactly. If he was a friend of Clark's,  then he was a friend of Lois's. It was more that she could  see the judgment in his eyes when he looked at her. That,  more than anything, was the side effect of her crimes that  she had least anticipated, and looking back on it now, she  didn't know why. She knew how she viewed criminals - what  made her think that she would be viewed any differently?

She sighed as her thoughts drifted to Clark. In a way, she  supposed that was something they had in common. He, too,  was judged by people who saw him as someone he wasn't. The  reverence that people held for their local Superhero was  almost frightening sometimes, and she knew that it made  Clark uncomfortable to see that. He, at least, had another  persona to escape behind, and she didn't. But like so many  things, Lois was sure that her transgressions would  eventually be forgotten, and she could finally move on with  her life. Clark would no doubt still be Superman in the  months and years to come, and he would always be in that  spotlight, but at least he would have a kindred soul around  from now on. He would understand what she was feeling, he  HAD understood when Henderson judged her, and the least she  could do was return the favor.

At the thought of Clark, she heard what sounded like a  strong gust of wind outside, and immediately there was a  knock on the front door. Lois excused herself and descended  the steps, knowing full well who was waiting for her  outside. She flung the door open and felt her heart begin  to race as she saw him standing there in his Superman suit,  smiling at her. For the first time, she let her eyes wander  down the length of his body as he stood there, and she  could feel her temperature rise as she took in his form.  Every other time she had seen him like this, she had either  been too afraid or too distracted to look, but now...now  she could understand the vast appeal of Superman. With a  grin, she waved him inside and quickly closed the door,  then took his hand and pulled him into the living room. As  soon as they were out of the line of sight from the  stairwell, she flung her arms around him and locked her  mouth over his. He responded immediately, gathering his  arms around her waist and drawing her in tighter, sighing  into her mouth as they deepened their kiss. After a few  moments they separated, and Lois shifted her head so it was  resting on his shoulder.

"You did it," she sighed, shifting her gaze so it was  locked on his face.

He smiled and turned his face toward hers as far as he  could. "Well, 'it' hasn't been done quite yet, but when it  is, it'll be because of you, not me. This investigation  started with your information, your leads." He leaned his  head slightly and met her lips briefly for another kiss.

"I wouldn't have done it at all if you hadn't given me the  confidence to do it. I felt pretty worthless yesterday, and  you changed that. None of this would've been possible  without that, and I just wanted to thank you personally."

Clark disengaged one hand and brought it up to push a stray  lock of hair out of her face. "Is that what you just HAD to  see Superman about?" he asked teasingly, although his voice  was still tender. She nodded her head as best she could,  and then just smiled. Clark dipped his head down to give  her another, deeper kiss. The world always seemed to  dissolve away when she was in his arms, but as she lost  herself in him this time, she heard a voice call out from  up the stairs.

"Who was that at the door, Ms. Lane?" she heard Henderson  ask, and suddenly Clark pulled away. Their heads snapped  quickly toward the stairway, and Lois's mind was racing,  trying to reorient itself with the world. She almost yelled  out that it was Clark, but she made herself stop. While,  yes, it technically was Clark, it was Superman who had come  here.

"Uh, Superman's here. He says he needs to talk to you," she  said, and she felt Clark's arms fall away from her. She  turned back toward him and saw that his eyes were slightly  large, almost as if he had been caught doing something that  he knew he shouldn't have been doing. "Come on," she said  quietly to Clark, taking his hand in hers and starting  toward the staircase. She began to turn away from him, but  as her eyes finally fell onto his lips, she saw a pink  smear there, one that had absolutely no business being on  the lips of the outwardly chaste superhero.

"What?" Clark said, reacting to what must've been a look of  shock on her part. Lois dug in her pocket, found a tissue,  and thrust it in front of him.

"You have a little, ah...." she said, pointing to her lips.

He seemed puzzled for a moment, then his eyes got even  larger, and he grabbed the tissue out of her hand. He  licked his lips, then dabbed his mouth off, looking at the  tissue to make sure he'd gotten it. "How's that?" he asked  quietly, puckering his lips ever so slightly, eliciting a  chuckle from Lois.

The edges of his mouth pulled up at the sound of her  laughter, and for a moment, Lois thought for sure the scene  would degenerate to the point that they were both doubled  over with laughter. She had to admit that the whole  situation was pretty absurd, and under normal circumstances  she would be more than happy to go along with it. But  Henderson was upstairs, and he would certainly hear them if  they broke down in a fit of hysteria, so Lois bit her lip  and held back. A small smudge of pink lingered on his lip,  though, and she brought her hand up to wipe it away,  realizing too late what kind of affect it would have on  him. Clark inhaled sharply as her finger touched his face,  and his hand locked on her arm, stilling it. Their eyes  locked, and they looked at each other for a long moment  before he gently kissed her finger, then her hand, before  letting her arm go.

A pleasant warmness spread over Lois, and she had to force  herself to breathe as she continued to look at him, wishing  for nothing more than some time alone. Just then, she  remembered that they weren't, in fact, alone, and that  Henderson was probably up in the office wondering what had  happened to them. "We have to go see Henderson," she said  without conviction. As much as she knew what needed to be  done, she didn't want to go. As soon as they got back into  that hallway and were in a line of sight from the office,  she would have to pretend that Superman meant nothing to  her, and she didn't know if she could do that.

"You want me to go up there by myself?" he asked, almost as  if he had been able to read her thoughts. Lois closed her  eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her emotions.  There was a certain amount of appeal to the suggestion, she  had to admit, but Henderson might get suspicious.

"No, I'll be okay," she said confidently. Clark cocked his  eyebrow in challenge, and she smiled, knowing that he had  done it again. He knew just as well as she did that she  wasn't as confident as she made out to be, but he also knew  that she wouldn't shy away from a challenge. Straightening  herself up, Lois made her best effort to snap into  professional mode. "Really," she said with conviction.  "It's not a problem."

Clark nodded once and held out his arm, gesturing for her  to lead the way. "Shall we?" he asked, and with that Lois  started up the stairs, Clark right behind her, and entered  her office.

***

Henderson wound his way through the dark hallways of the  central precinct, on his way back to the evidence  warehouse. It had officially been more than 24 hours since  he'd last had any sleep, but he still didn't feel in the  least bit tired. In fact, he thought with a wry smile, he  was probably sharper now than normal. He couldn't say if it  was the fatigue that his body must be feeling, or the fact  that he was so in tune with his work at the moment, but in  the last couple hours, he found himself observing things  that he never would've caught normally. Things that had  snuck by his radar in the past were now crystal clear, and  those things he saw now were starting to make him look at  the world in a different way.

His newly honed powers of observation first manifested  themselves when he began to thumb through the files in Lois  Lane's office. Any piece of information relating to the  cases he had studied earlier had been immediately absorbed  and assimilated, and without his conscious knowledge, bits  and pieces began to merge together, forming a more complete  picture, one that was even more damning for Luthor than he  had previously thought. A plan of attack had begun to form,  and the longer he had studied materials, the more he knew  exactly what it was that he had to do. It was just as he  was preparing to leave for police headquarters that a  visitor had arrived at Lane's townhouse.

The visitor had arrived only a few short minutes after  Lois's cryptic phone call from Kent. When the doorbell had  first rung, it hadn't occurred to Henderson to wonder who  it was, but the longer Lois was gone, the more interested  he became. Lois didn't really strike him as the social  type, and if whoever it was at the door had been a  traveling salesman or Jehovah's Witness, she surely  would've shooed them away without another thought. Curious,  he stuck his head out the office door and listened, hearing  the hushed tones of a man's voice responding to her. It was  easy to infer mood from his voice, from the way his words  weren't rushed or clipped, but instead almost tender. There  were a couple long stretches where all Henderson could hear  was the gentle rustle of clothing, something that didn't  fit with anything he could imagine a stranger doing with  Lois. Impatient and curious, he had yelled down the stairs,  and she had answered that it was Superman who was there  waiting to see him.

Immediately, the detective inside Henderson became  activated. How on Earth would Superman know where to find  him, and why would he be having hushed, tender words with  Lois Lane? It was possible they had met before, but if it  were in a 'professional' sense, Henderson highly doubted  that the Man of Steel's feelings for her would be tender.  Maybe he was sorry to hear about the death of her sister,  but Superman had never been the type of person to go out of  his way to be outwardly tender or affectionate. Something  was wrong with the picture he was being presented, and that  feeling remained as he saw Lois reenter her office, this  time with Superman behind her. The first thing Henderson  had noticed when they entered the room was the way the  atmosphere seemed to change with the gentle hum of some  unknown electrical force that followed them. Lois, who  stopped to drop something in the trashcan before taking a  seat behind her desk, seemed almost too professional, too  confident. Superman stood to her side, his arms crossed  over his chest, appearing to be every bit the superhero  that Bill had heard about. He had proceeded to tell the  tale of Lex Luthor and the congressmen he'd bought, and how  Lois and Clark had brought it to his attention. Bill nodded  dutifully as the story was told, but after a few minutes  his eyes began to wander, and his attention was pulled to a  spot of color that seemed out of place against the bright  blue and red outfit. There, on his shoulder was a slight  smudge of pink. Out of curiosity, Bill stole a look at  Lois, and noticed that it was the same shade as the  lipstick she wore.

Inwardly, Henderson felt almost sick, although outwardly he  kept his face a mask of neutrality. Just that afternoon,  Lois had been seemingly hot and heavy for Kent, yet now  that he was out of town on business, she turned on him and  went right into the arms of Superman, of all people. No  wonder there was that electricity in the air between them,  he thought. In fact, it was similar to that feeling he got  when he saw Lois with Clark. Now that he thought of it,  Superman and Clark had other things in common besides their  chemistry with Lois Lane, including hair color and build.  It was almost enough to make him wonder what Superman would  look like if he put on a pair of glasses.

His hypersensitive perceptive sense kicked in again,  mentally drawing the glasses on Superman's face, and all of  a sudden the strange situation made sense. This time he  knew that he couldn't keep some of his surprise from  showing on his face. Never in a million years had he  figured that Superman would have another identity, but as  he thought about it, the notion made a lot of sense.  Superman knew so many worldly things, spoke such plain and  perfect English and knew all the colloquialisms that non- native speakers would have a hard time understanding. It  would seem obvious to assume that he had been on Earth, in  America, for a long time, and the only way he could do that  would be to live as someone else. Clark Kent, his friend,  grew up in the Midwest; he had parents and friends, a past,  a job, a girlfriend. He was a living, breathing, seemingly  normal person, but he was also apparently Superman. If  Henderson thought about what it was that would make a  person want to put on such an outlandish costume and put  himself on the line every night, he supposed that Clark's  personality would fit the bill. He could be incredibly  strong willed if he wanted to be, yet he was one of the  most compassionate persons that he had ever met.

As the briefing wore on, Henderson found himself smiling,  thinking about what it meant to be there, with the man who  was Superman. The details of the Luthor case were almost  unimportant, comparatively, but he forced himself to focus.  The plan that Lois and Clark had was not bad, and it would  most likely bring a charge against the billionaire, but it  hardly cut to the root of the problem. They seemed to be  acutely aware of that, but they seemed to know that he was  there to help, to look out for them, and he had a plan.  Superman wrapped up his speech and then left, giving a  small nod to Lois before disappearing in a blur through the  door. Henderson excused himself shortly thereafter, making  sure to take a look in the trashcan as he left. There,  sitting on the top, was a pink-smudged tissue. He had to  stifle a chuckle as he continued out of the office and down  the stairs, pondering the fact that Superman and Lois had  been making out, and right under his nose.

The warm feeling from the meeting with Superman had  recharged him, giving him the strength to carry though with  the research that he needed to do in order to wrap things  up. His mind still wandered back to it as he worked through  the files, organizing them to correspond with the notes  from his time in Lois's office. Once everything was set up  how he liked, Henderson pulled the first folder off the  stack, opening it to the case description.

Ron Harris, scientist at Lexlabs, was killed four months  earlier. There had been no witnesses and no clues to this  case; Harris had no enemies, he had no debts, and he had a  family that loved him. But, according to Lois's notes, his  wife had believed in the days before his death that  something was wrong. The project that he had been in charge  of at work had something to do with control of fluid flow  in power supply systems. Generally in power plants, water  was heated into vapor by boilers, and the vapor was run  through a turbine, creating the power that was outputted by  the plant. Generally, that superheated steam was cooled as  it was expanded through the turbine, but it was still quite  hot, and from what Mrs. Harris understood, it was how that  hot water was diverted that was the focal point of her  husband's research. Mr. Harris had grown suspicious over  the possible use that would be made of his work, and he had  taken to carrying his project, including notes and physical  coolant parts, with him at all times. The night he died,  they had been present on his person, but according to the  sheet he was now looking at, both the device and the notes  had been stolen out of evidence lockup the next day, never  to be seen again. Lexcorps, the recipient of the lab's  research, have had only one power plant either planned or  under construction in the last year, and that was the one  in Metropolis that had opened a week ago, the same one that  had been responsible for the heat wave and the hysteria  about Superman. In fact, parts of the stolen device were  found beneath the plant, replacing the very parts that had  been found in Luthor's warehouse.

Henderson slowly closed the file, his eyes shifting back  and forth rapidly. It bothered him that nobody had  questioned the theft of Harris's device, and it bothered  him even more to find that the suspicions of the late  scientist were correct, and that the device had been used  for insidious purposes. The question became, who would  profit from installing that device? Lois's notes would lead  him to believe that Lex Luthor would have a vested interest  in getting rid of the hero, the man who had begun to  methodically dismantle criminal organizations of  Metropolis, many of which Lois was convinced the  billionaire had his hands in. Henderson had to admit that  there was a ring of truth to that, that there were probably  many other reasons why Luthor would want Superman out of  town. But all that was speculation, and to get any type of  warrant against Luthor, he needed something concrete to go  on. What he kept coming back to were the parts found in the  warehouse, the ones that had been replaced by the device.  Those parts would be hard to connect to Luthor under normal  circumstances, but in this case, they just might be strong  enough evidence to persuade the DA to let him look for  more.

Bill smiled again as he stood, tucking the files into his  briefcase. If this panned out, it would be absolutely huge.  Environmental crimes, theft, and a possible manslaughter  charge were all very possible. And those things combined  with Lois and Clark's investigations would likely put him  away for a very long time, indeed.

***

The high rise across from the Lexcorp tower was a place  that had almost been a second home to Lois during her many  probes of Lex Luthor. Renting an office with a view of the  tower's front entrance was relatively easy, especially when  one had the contacts that she had. Procuring the office  space had been her final favor for Henderson, but it was  probably one of the more important ones. In the last couple  of days, officers had been able to observe some of  Metropolis's finest entering the Lexcorp tower, officers  that had no business being there. Henderson had been a  workhorse during that time, checking up on the wayward  officers, looking into the cases they had handled and the  lifestyle changes that they'd all recently had. In the next  few weeks, there was going to be a major shakeup within the  Metropolis police department. But before that could happen,  they needed Luthor.

Inside the newly rented office suite, a handful of  uniformed officers crowded in one corner, next to an array  of complicated observation equipment. Their attention was  focused on Inspector Henderson, who was installing a wire  on US Representative John Fennelly. Lois and Clark stood on  the other side of the room, quietly watching the  proceedings and trying to remain inconspicuous. Every now  and then a curious glance would be sent their way,  lingering a moment before diverting back to Henderson.

"Done," Henderson said as he hooked a wire to a small  battery pack mounted on Fennelly's belt. "The microphone is  voice activated, so all you have to do is speak, and you'll  be fine."

Fennelly looked Henderson in the eye, taking a deep breath  before diverting his attention briefly to Clark. His face  clearly gave away how nervous he was, but his eyes conveyed  a strong conviction, and Lois knew that he would do  whatever it took to make sure that everything turned out  right. After a small nod and an encouraging smile from  Clark, Fennelly looked back at Henderson.

"You'll be protecting me after I go in?" he asked, and Lois  could feel Clark tense up beside her. She knew that he  would've preferred to be there as Superman, but the police  needed handle this collar 100% by the book, just so that  there was absolutely no possibility that Luthor could get  off on any sort of technicality. Henderson had assured  Clark that the police were covering Fennelly's back, but  Lois knew that Clark would still worry. As she laid her  hand on his chest, she could feel the outline of the S- shield on his suit underneath. Police reassurance or not,  she knew he would be out that door in a second if anything  were to happen.

"I will be right behind you with my group, here," Henderson  responded, gesturing to the officers in the room. "We'll be  outside the door as Luthor incriminates himself. When you  leave, we'll enter with a search warrant."

Fennelly nodded. A determined look came across is face as  he stood up and straightened is shirt and tie, making sure  that everything was in order.

"You know what you need for him to say, right?" Henderson  asked. Fennelly bent down and picked up his blazer, lightly  patting the dust off it before putting it on.

"Anything illegal," the representative answered with a hint  of a smile, before turning to exit the office.

Henderson raised his eyebrows and watched his retreating  form. "That'll work, I guess," he muttered, and Lois  noticed several officers trying to hide smiles of their  own. The room threatened to fall into silence as the door  closed behind Fennelly, but Henderson clapped his hands  together, effectively ending the brief interlude. "All  right, let's get to work," he said to his troops,  individually instructing them of what needed to be gathered  in order for them to conduct their search of the Luthor  apartment. Lois and Clark continued to watch from their  corner in silence, knowing that their roles for the evening  were merely to act as observers. It was a strange feeling,  Lois thought. Her life had been about doing, not about  watching. Never in a million years would she have dreamt  that she would be sitting here watching the police get  ready to take out Luthor, all the while knowing that there  was nothing she could do to help. In a way, she probably  had helped them out more than she could know, but that  wasn't the type of help she meant. She wanted to be  standing in that penthouse when they snapped the handcuffs  over Luthor's wrists. She wanted to see the look on his  face when he realized that all the crimes he had been  committing for years had finally caught up to him. But  mostly, she wanted him to see her and know just who it was  that had led to his downfall. Given the circumstances,  though, she supposed that she should be grateful to be able  to overhear it all and know that all those years of digging  and searching hadn't been for nothing.

As she watched, Henderson shoved a generic looking envelope  into his coat pocket and broke away from the crowd of cops,  making his way toward them. He looked at them both directly  in turn before addressing Lois. "I know it's not as  glamorous in person as the people in Hollywood would lead  you to believe, but preparing to indict someone like Luthor  is more dull paperwork and semantics than anything. If  you've seen one of these, you've seen them all," he said,  directing a glance at Clark as he said his last sentence.  Lois puzzled at that for a moment, but let it go as  Henderson continued. "We're going to leave here soon, but  Judy is going to stay behind and operate the equipment," he  said, pointing to one of the officers behind him. "I've  told her to cooperate with you two, so she won't cause you  any problems."

Henderson made a move to turn and go back to his group of  officers, but then stopped and turned back toward Clark.  "Assuming this goes off okay, feel free to print the  details of what went down here. But please don't mention  anything that might jeopardize...."

"Trust me, Bill," Clark said, interrupting his friend.  Henderson looked at Clark, then cast a glance at Lois  before turning back toward Clark and giving him a smile.

"Yeah, I know. I just wanted to make sure," he said, then  walked away. As he reached his group, he grabbed a few more  items before starting toward the door. "Let's get a move  on. I want to be in that lobby before Fennelly reaches the  penthouse," Henderson said. The group followed behind him,  and soon they were all out of the office.

Lois and Clark remained silent as they waited for the  excitement to begin. Lois wandered toward the window,  craning her neck and gazing upward as far as she could. The  penthouse suite of the Lexcorps tower was the tallest point  in Metropolis, and everything was going to happen up there.  She would give anything to just have a peek into that  office, to see at least a part of, but the only living  creatures that would see it outside the occupants of that  penthouse would be the birds who just happened to be flying  by at the time.

The thought caused her to turn abruptly toward Clark. No,  that statement wasn't true, she thought as she watched him  pull his glasses down his nose, then look over the top of  them, directing his gaze toward the top of the tower. He  could see exactly what was happening, she thought with a  sudden surge of jealously. If they were alone, she could  probably get him to give her all the juicy details, but as  it was.... She looked ruefully toward the officer who  remained. Weren't those machines automated? Couldn't they  record on their own? Wasn't there something else Officer  Judy could be doing besides raining on her parade?

As Lois let out a snort of frustration, the equipment came  to life, and suddenly they could hear Fennelly approach  Luthor's secretary, making small talk with her before  entering the personal lair of Lex Luthor himself. All her  former frustrations melted away as Lois started intently at  the speakers on the machine, visualizing the scene all on  her own. The voice of the billionaire filled the room,  sounding smug and pompous as it always had. The two men  bantered like old friends at first, until she heard a  scratch of the microphone, and the sound of something being  placed on the table. It was the money that Lex had given  Fennelly, she knew, and all of a sudden, the voice coming  from Lex Luthor grew cold and hard. It was truly  frightening to hear Lex inform Fennelly of all the reasons  why it would be wise to take that money and do what he was  told. He never came right out and said that he would have  the members of the Representative's family eliminated, but  it was inferred, and Lois found her arms breaking out in  goosebumps. Fennelly declined yet again, bringing out  Luthor's most menacing speech yet. The things he said would  be more than enough to convict Luthor and send him to jail  for a very long time, something that Lois knew she should  be reveling in, but no joy came. No comfort came. Instead,  she almost felt lightheaded, almost as if she was about to  faint.

A gentle hand was laid on her shoulder, and she knew  instantly that Clark had felt her distress. She laid her  hand on top of his, holding onto it like a lifeline. It  suddenly occurred to her that her father had probably  experienced just such a thing. Most of her life, she had  had her own ideas about what had transpired between her  father and Luthor, and she had always imagined some  Hollywood version of the exchange, with the menacing  billionaire and the lowly scientist pitted against each  other. But hearing Luthor threaten Fennelly, hearing that  true touch of evil that his voice held, she suddenly  admired her father more. There was no doubt in her mind  that he had known from the minute he had talked with Luthor  that his days were numbered, yet he had still done his best  to make sure that she and Lucy were kept unaware of it, and  untouched by it. Now, suddenly, everything that happened  back then, everything that had been imagined, felt so real,  it made her want to grieve all over again.

She heard Fennelly take of his leave of Luthor, and as he  left the room, a new voice came across the wire, one that  was also familiar to Lois. She could hear Henderson  presenting his search warrant, followed by the sounds of  people bustling around the room. One man cried out that he  had found something, and suddenly a series of shouts arose.  Henderson's voice came again, advising Luthor of his  Miranda rights. It was then that pandemonium erupted.  Shouts followed scuffles, and Luthor started making thinly  veiled threats to the officers.

Suddenly, Clark tensed up behind her. She turned and saw  him gazing upwards, an increasingly stern look on his face.  He seemed to sense her eyes on him, and he diverted his  gaze to her face, giving her a pleading look.

"I have to go to the restroom, excuse me," he said quickly,  obviously for the benefit of the officer, then pulled away  from her, practically running out of the room.

Over the speakers, she could hear the sound of some  mechanical equipment. "Lex Luthor will not live in a cage,"  the billionaire said, and suddenly Lois knew why Clark had  to leave so abruptly.

"Luthor, no!" Henderson yelled, but it was too late, she  knew. The words had barely come out of his mouth when she  heard Luthor speak again.

"Top of the world," he said, his voice almost triumphant.  What sounded like a clap of thunder cut through the air  just then, a streak of red and blue outside the building  telling her just what was happening. She rushed closer to  the window, just in time to see Superman land in front of  the crowd of police vehicles that had gathered below the  Lexcorps tower, Luthor held roughly in his arms.

Her eyes were riveted to the scene, absorbing every detail,  from the mildly surprised expression of Lex Luthor to the  hard, stern mask that Clark seemed to be wearing. Even from  this far she could feel his disgust toward Luthor, and she  knew he was thinking exactly the same thing she was. After  everything he had done to the people of this city, Luthor  had decided that killing himself was better than having to  face up to his crimes. The act was one of a truly cowardly  man, someone who had no regard for the rule of the law or  the system of justice. Even though Luthor made himself out  to be superior, to be better than anyone else, in the end  he was just a scared, spoiled child who was caught red  handed and didn't want to face the consequences.

On the street below, officers rushed out of the car toward  Superman, placing handcuffs on Luthor just as soon as they  reached him. The fight seemed to be taken out of Luthor,  and Lois found herself disappointed. She had expected more  from this final confrontation, something more befitting of  a powerful adversary like Luthor, but it just didn't  happen. Quietly, dejectedly, he climbed into the back of  the squad car. Before the door was closed, he looked  absently toward the building that Lois was in, and just  like that she found her eyes locking onto his. A smile  played across her lips as she saw his eyes grow wide. No  doubt he thought he was seeing a ghost, she thought as she  gave him her most knowing look. In a way he was seeing a  ghost. She represented all the people that he had wronged,  and she could almost feel their souls lingering around her,  all looking out the window and rejoicing at what they saw.  It was then that the police door slammed shut, breaking the  connection. Slowly, the car containing Luthor pulled away,  followed by several escort vehicles, trailing toward the  central precinct, and the jail.

The crowd of emergency vehicles in front of the Lexcorp  tower slowly cleared away, leaving Clark alone on the  street, standing tall amidst the organized chaos around  him. He, too, looked up toward Lois's window, finding her  eyes. The invisible connection they possessed clicked  suddenly, and she could feel the gentle wave of relief that  washed over Clark. They both knew it was over, that  everything they had worked for was now finally done. He  smiled at her, his smile brighter than anything she had  ever seen on Superman's generally somber face before. With  a nod he conveyed for her to meet him behind the building.  It was time to go home.

Lois thanked the officer before leaving, receiving an  almost inaudible grunt in response. Normally such a callous  brush-off would cause her no small amount of consternation,  but tonight she just couldn't bring herself to be mad.  Everything finally was as it was supposed to be in  Metropolis. Good had finally triumphed over evil.

---

Thick, white clouds blanketed the sky overhead as Lois  watched a small group of people make its way across the  yellowed grass, toward a small spot in the corner of a  graveyard. A large, gray canvas tent marked their  destination, and as the crowd neared, the wind began to  pick up, causing the canvas to sway gently, hypnotically.  As tempting as it was to get lost in the soothing rhythm,  Lois found her eyes gravitating downward, toward the simple  wooden coffin that resided under the tent. A small  arrangement of colorful flowers decorated the lid, trying  to lend a little cheer to the otherwise drab day, but it  did nothing to cheer her up. The reality of the situation  was that it was her sister in that coffin, as hard as it  was for her to believe even a week after it had happened.  Lois felt herself almost not wanting to follow the crowd,  hoping that by not approaching that tent and not going  through the service, she could make it all just go away.  But ignoring it wouldn't make it less real, and she knew  that. The thought caused her to shiver slightly, and an  instant later she felt herself being enveloped by Clark's  trench coat. Startled, she turned toward him, and she  couldn't help but be comforted by the sympathetic  expression he wore, one that silently gave her all the  support that she was willing to accept from him. She found  herself weakly smiling at him, and as he smiled back,  suddenly her feet didn't seem as heavy. Her hand reached  out and found his, and together they continued toward the  tent in silence. Lois honestly didn't know what she  would've done without Clark there. He was her anchor to  reality; he was the hope that she held onto. It was because  of him that her lifelong pursuit of Luthor had finally come  to a conclusion, and was because of him that she had a  newfound zeal for life. Slowly they followed the crowd  across the yard and took their spots under the tent.

As they sat down, she found herself pondering the timing of  Lucy's service. The need for a criminal autopsy had delayed  the funeral, making it possible for Lois to attend. As  horrible as it was having to bury her own sister, it  would've been worse to have been locked in jail when the  service had been happening. At least here, now, she could  have her closure, say goodbye, and assure her sister that  everything would be okay. As important as it was for Lois  to say her personal goodbyes to her sister, it was also  important for her to see just what Lucy had meant to all  the other people who had known her. It was truly an  inspiration to see the effect she had had on others, the  people whose lives she touched. As Lois looked around, she  saw many familiar faces, people who at one time or another  had come to the Lost and Found agency in their own times of  trouble. Without exception, the looks her former clients  gave her spoke of the knowledge of just what it was that  Lois was going through.

As the service began, Lois couldn't help but turn her gaze  toward the polished wooden box in front of her. Inside was  someone who had hopes and dreams, whose life had only  really just started. Everything that had been accomplished  in the last couple days should be cause for celebration,  but without Lucy there to join her, Lois found that she  couldn't feel festive. The edges of her eyes started to  mist up as the priest recited his words, the same ones that  had been said at funerals for centuries; words that were  meant to comfort, but instead seemed almost cruelly final.  An arm snaked around her shoulders, and before she knew it,  she was leaning up against Clark, letting all the sorrow  and anguish she had felt over Lucy's death well up inside  of her. The tears came freely as she rested in the gentle  shelter of his embrace. The priest's words continued in the  background, and she couldn't help but think about the only  other time she had heard them, the only other funeral she  had ever attended. Images flashed in her mind of a dreary  autumn day, and two coffins sitting side by side, suspended  over impossibly deep holes. It had been cold that day, too,  and she had cried harder than she had ever thought  possible. But then, unlike now, there had been no comfort  for her. Her relatives had regarded her and her sister with  sympathy and kind words, but as she had sat in her chair,  listening to the priest, nobody had come and offered her  the kind of comfort that she felt here, with Clark.

The service finished, and through the tears, she could see  the people parade by in front of her, stopping one by one  to briefly pay their last respects. Slowly the crowd  thinned out, until Lois found herself alone with Clark  under the tent. Gently, she heard him say her name, and she  forced herself to pull away from him. The soft feel of his  jacket lingered on her cheek as she looked at him, the  tears threatening to come anew as she caught sight of the  look of naked concern that his face held.

"Would you like to say your goodbyes?" he asked softly,  gently, his eyebrows drawn together in anticipation.  Slowly, Lois turned toward the coffin, regarding it for a  few moments before turning back toward Clark.

"I suppose I should," she responded. Clark's arm moved down  to her waist as he helped her up, and, together, they  approached the coffin. Lois laid her hand on the lid,  feeling the smoothness of the wood beneath her fingertips.  She didn't want to think of Lucy in there, of the blank  expression her face surely held, or of the red halo that  she envisioned every time she thought of their final time  together. Lois's hand flew up to her mouth, stifling a sob,  before she took a couple of deep breaths to compose  herself.

"You were the best sister that anyone could've asked for,"  she started, thinking of all the times that Lucy had been  there for her. "You put my needs before your own, but at  the same time, you didn't let me push you around. We shared  so many things, survived so many things, together." Flashes  from the dark, lonely years they had spent moving from  foster home to foster home flashed through Lois's mind, but  instead of the usual feeling of sorrow that accompanied  these images, she felt nothing but gratitude toward her  sister for being there with her. As much as Clark was her  anchor now, Lucy had been so back then. As terrible as  those years had been, Lois knew that it would've been worse  yet without the support of her sister.

"I love you, little sister, and I always will. Give my love  to Mom and Dad." Lois's gaze lingered on the coffin for a  moment, then she turned away, leaving Clark's arms and  walking toward the edge of the tent. She looked up into the  sky, the unbroken white of the clouds stretching out as far  as the eye could see. In the distance, a bird sat in a  tree, staring directly at her from across the expanse of  space, before it flew up into the sky, going further and  further away until it was out of sight. As Lois watched it  go, she let go of all her old feelings and insecurities,  letting them fade away into the horizon until she couldn't  see them anymore. The pain of her parents' death, the all- encompassing anger toward Luthor, and the sorrow that had  been present for so long, driving her, drifted away. As  they did, she almost felt lighter herself. Just then, a ray  of sunshine broke through the clouds, illuminating the  ground, and replacing the dreariness that had been there  before. A smile threatened to form on her face, but then  she heard Clark's soft voice behind her.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you," he said, and Lois  turned to look at him in disbelief. "I make it my job to  help people in danger, but when the time came, I wasn't  there for you, or for Lois. She says she's forgiven me for  what I did to her that night, but I'm not so sure if I  forgive myself."

Clark flinched slightly as Lois came up behind him and  wrapped her arms around his waist. He leaned back slightly  into her grip and gave her a smile that she could tell was  only a cover. "You can't blame yourself for not being there  any more than I can, Clark."

He looked over his shoulder at her, his expression pained.  "I know. One thing I had to confront when I first started  going out there in the Suit was the fact that I couldn't be  there for everyone. But I always hoped that I could at  least be there when the people I cared for needed help, and  I wasn't. I can't help but feel responsible, somehow."

Lois tightened her arms around him, leaning over to give  him a kiss on the cheek. "Don't. You give so much of  yourself, Clark, but you're only one person. You do what  you can, and the world's a better place because of it. I'm  sure Lucy understands that, too."

Clark closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his lips  pulling tightly together. As he opened his eyes again, the  sorrow that he had been feeling seemed to have completely  vanished. He looked tenderly at Lois for a second, then  turned back toward the coffin. "Thank you for helping your  sister become the woman she has," he said. The words seemed  to hang in the air as they both stood perfectly still,  staring at the coffin for the final time. Lois found  herself seconding Clark's comments, mentally thanking Lucy  for the push she had given her toward Clark.

After a moment, Lois disengaged her arms from Clark's  waist, reaching for his hand. Wordlessly, they started  walking away from the tent, away from Lucy. The urge to  look back was strong, but Lois fought it, choosing,  instead, to turn her attention toward Clark. The past was  done, and Lucy represented the last tie to that past.  Clark, on the other hand, was her future, the link to the  new life that she was going to embark upon, and she  couldn't feel anything but happiness at the thought of  their future together.

***

Heavy oak doors swung open in front of Clark with an  audible groan, giving him his first glimpse of the  courtroom where Lois's hearing would be held. Inside, he  could see a handful of spectators, not as many as would be  present for a high profile trail, but certainly more than  he had anticipated. Among the group were a large number of  colleagues, people he knew well and had met with on more  than one story. As he took his first steps into the  courtroom, his attention turned toward Lois, who sat at an  impossibly large wooden table, surrounded by her lawyers.  Her head seemed to incline ever so slightly as he walked  into the room, and he could almost sense that she knew it  was him behind her. He smiled at the back of her head, and  all of a sudden she seemed to relax a little, her shoulder  hunching over slightly as some of her anxiety seemed to  float away.

Clark took a seat toward the back of the courtroom in a row  by himself, pulling the morning edition of the Daily Planet  out from under his arm. "Lex Luthor Indicted in  Congressional Bribery" the headline screamed. "Other  charges pending, including murder and fraud," a subheading  read. Clark's byline say proudly at the top of the column  of type, his story conveying the truly horrible nature of  his alleged crimes without giving away any details that  might jeopardize the pending cases. It was by far the  biggest headline of his fledgling career, and he was very  proud to have been the one to write the story of Lex's  fall. Perry had been proud, too, not to mention impressed.  It was a Kerth award winner for sure, Perry had said, but  Clark didn't care about that. That headline was the  culmination of his cooperative investigation with Lois, a  partnership that had been very potent and very successful.  It felt great to have been able to accomplish so much with  her, but at the same time, he found himself not wanting to  work alone again.

After a few minutes, the judge entered the courtroom, and a  hush came over the crowd. The gavel banged once, and the  hearing was underway. Mayson Drake, the lawyer assigned to  her case by the DA's office, had agreed to dismiss the more  serious charges leveled against Lois in return for her  assistance on the Luthor case. Clark had only met the woman  once, the day that he had accompanied Lois to their  meeting, and all Clark could really remember about the  experience was how uncomfortable he had felt in the  Assistant DA's presence. She kept throwing sidelong glances  at him, ones that seemed almost too measuring, too  appreciative. While being leered at wasn't an uncommon  occurrence when he was dressed as Superman, he was  definitely not used to it as Clark. Unconsciously, Clark  knew he had clung a little too closely to Lois during the  meeting because of that, and he could feel her responding  to him, trying to deflect some of the attention away from  him while at the same time not trying to rile Ms. Drake.  After the meeting they had had a good laugh about the whole  thing, but he certainly wasn't looking forward to meeting  her again. Peeking toward the prosecution's table, Clark  could see Mayson looking back toward him, that same gleam  in her eye. Inwardly, Clark groaned. In front of him, he  could see Lois looking toward the assistant DA, her  increased heartbeat thundering in his ears. Under normal  circumstances he would almost find Lois's jealous streak  moderately amusing, but as it was, it had the possibility  of doing more harm that good. The last thing Lois needed  was to get Mayson Drake, the women who held the future in  her hands, upset at her. If this hearing didn't get over  with quickly, though, Clark had a feeling that things could  get ugly, and he would never be able to live with himself  for any negative consequences that might hold for Lois.

Fortunately, the near confrontation didn't have time to  develop. In due course, the lawyers for the two sides stood  up and gave their statements. Lois agreed to plead guilty  to misdemeanor property destruction charges, and the  prosecution accepted. With another bang of the gavel, the  judge also accepted the charges and summarily sentenced her  to probation and time served. The gavel fell and the small  crowd of reporters, none of whom had seemed overly thrilled  to be there in the first place, began to disperse. Lois  stood up and turned toward Clark, giving him a triumphant  smile. As he stood and approached her, she turned to shake  the hands of her lawyers, but as soon as he was in her  reach, she pulled him into a bear hug, which he gladly  returned. His head dipped down, and he captured her lips  for a quick kiss, aware that the eyes of the assistant  district attorney were on him the whole time.

As Lois pulled away, he saw her eyes flicker to the other  side of the room, and she gave a devilish smile before  turning toward Clark again. "Do you know what this means?"  she asked, but she didn't have to. They both knew exactly  what it meant, although they hadn't let themselves say it  up until that moment.

Clark tightened his arms around her, a lopsided smile  creeping onto his face. "It means the New Troy courts know  a good seed when they see it," he responded, his attempt at  humor providing a cover for the relief that he felt. It  easily could've gone the other way. If everything hadn't  fallen into place, her sentence would've been much stiffer  than the probation that she had received.

Lois smirked at him as she walked her fingers up his back.  "Well, yes, it does mean that," she said with a girlish  grin, which faded as soon as the words left her mouth. "But  it also means that life can finally start for me, for us.  That verdict gave us a future." Her tone grew increasingly  serious, and as she finished, she was almost on the brink  of tears.

"We would've had a future in any case," Clark said, certain  for the first time of those words. There had been a time,  right after he had found out about her, that he would've  been horrified about the thought of committing himself to  someone who was doing time in jail, but that had been na‹ve  of him, he knew now. The woman in his arms had only wanted  to do the right thing, and deep down, she was a wonderful  person. What she had done had been misguided, but she knew  that now. Anyway, it wasn't about one action at one time in  history, it was the soul of the person that mattered, and  her soul was so achingly beautiful now that all the anger  and bitterness had fallen away. "Whether that future  started today or ten years from now, it'd be worth any wait  that I'd have to endure, because it would mean being with  you."

The sound of a chocked snort came from behind him, and  Clark could hear the shuffle of papers and the rustle of  clothing, before clipped footsteps started heading toward  the back door of the courtroom. A tear made its way down  Lois's cheek as her eyes locked on him, and he could tell  that she hadn't even heard the outburst behind him. She  stared at him intently, her eyes roaming over his face, her  expression haunting. Out of impulse, Clark brought his hand  up and wiped away the tear, Lois's hand locking over his as  he did so.

"I was never one to believe in happily ever after," Lois  said slowly, her voice thick with emotion. "But now I don't  know how I could even fathom anything else. I had the  shadows of my parents looming over me for so long that I  refused to see what else there was, what happiness and love  there was. It's because of you that we can start our new  life, and let them rest in peace."

Clark opened his mouth to respond to her, but quickly found  that no words could provide an adequate response to what  she had said. Her eyes looked at him questioningly, almost  timidly awaiting his reply. The only response that he could  give was to dip his head down and devour her mouth. She  responded to him with an almost frightening intensity, and  as they kissed, he could feel their souls becoming one for  the first time. Up until now, even though he had convinced  himself of his love and support for her, he had never given  himself permission to truly let all his inhibitions go.  Now, with their futures certain, he could do that.

After a moment, the sound of a throat being cleared brought  them out of their kiss, and Clark turned toward the source,  quickly seeing that the bailiff was still in the courtroom.  The man's cheeks seemed to be burning scarlet, and Clark  couldn't help but blush when he thought about the spectacle  that he and Lois must've presented. Looking back at Lois,  he could see that she was equally embarrassed. They dropped  their arms in unison and turned to leave the court, neither  of them anxious to say anything more until they were alone.

The big oak doors swung open in front of them, and they  entered the hallway, a bustle of people surrounding them.  After a moment, he heard Lois start to giggle, and he felt  the corners of his mouth turn upward as she continued. At  first her laughter was gentle, joyful, but quickly it  degraded into something more intense, and soon Clark found  that he couldn't stop himself from laughing along with her.  In a matter of moments, they found themselves gasping for  air as they searched for a bench to sit down on. All the  tension of the last few weeks, all the held back emotions  and forced silences, seemed to have bubbled to the surface  at once. They drew curious stares as their fit continued,  but after a while it died down, and they found themselves  sitting in companionable silence, watching the lawyers and  reporters and spectators walk by in front of them.

"I needed that," Lois said, her eyes still focused toward  the hallway. "I've been too serious for too long. I think  the new me needs to break down in a fit of giggles every  now and then."

Clark smiled and stood up, offering his hand to her, which  she gladly accepted. As she stood, Clark looked toward her  quizzically. "So what other changes are in store for the  new Lois?" he asked letting a teasing tone slip into his  voice.

Lois turned toward him, giving him a half smile as they  started down the hallway. "Well, I don't think the new me  particularly wants to be a private investigator anymore. I  used that largely as a cover for my Luthor operations  anyway, so now that that's done, I don't really see the  point."

His eyebrows shot up in response. Before he had even met  Lois, he had heard about her reputation as a private  investigator, and her work on the cases that she had  publicly worked on. She was very good at what she did, and  she no doubt had made connections in the course of her work  that a reporter such as him could only dream of. It almost  seemed unfathomable that she would want to throw away  something that she had worked so hard to establish, but, he  thought as he looked at her again, he could understand why  she would want some change in her life.

"So what do you want to do?" he asked her, curious. Lois  looked at him, then shrugged before turning her attention  down the hallway. They walked in silence for a moment  before she gave her response.

"I've always had this side of me that's liked to dream, to  imagine, to create. I used to formulate the most fantastic  stories in my head, just to pass the time, but I never  really had the time to write them down. There's a writer  inside me, I just know it, and I want to take some time to  explore that part of myself."

Something inside Clark clicked, and he remembered the  conversation he had with Ralph right before he met Lois for  the first time. Lois made it her job to edit the stories  she helped with, and Clark had the feeling that Perry had  appreciated it. The quality of reporting that came from  someone like Ralph was never as good as it was on an  article that came from Lois.

"What about writing for the Planet?" Clark asked, eliciting  a startled expression from Lois. "I've seen the articles  that were written under the names of Planet reporters, and  I know it wasn't them doing most of the writing."

Lois blushed ever so slightly as a meek smile formed on her  lips. "Well.... They didn't seem to be taking me too  seriously."

"That's just my point," Clark said, punctuating his words  with his hands. "You care about the quality of your work,  and you know more about what's going on in this city than  half the cops out there. You'd make a better reporter than  a lot of my coworkers."

Lois's face became positively radiant, and Clark knew that  the idea held some appeal for her. It was possible that she  had been mulling just such a thing for quite a while, but  just wouldn't let herself commit to it. Judging by the look  on her face, though, Clark had a feeling that their  partnership might end up being more than a one time deal.

"I think I would like that," she said, still a little  timid.

"If you're not comfortable with working by yourself, you  can always ask to get teamed up with a partner," he added,  giving her his most dazzling smile.

Lois grabbed his hand and swung it, her smile becoming  playful. "But what name would come first?" she asked, and  suddenly Clark knew that she had made her decision. "Lane  and Kent or Kent and Lane?"

"Lane and Kent," Clark said a smile creeping across his  face. "The straight man always goes first."

Lois favored him with her most stern look, but her eyes  gave away her amusement. Clark squeezed her hand as they  continued down the hallway, toward the future. The sun from  the outside doors shone brightly in front of them, and for  once, Clark knew that Lois wasn't looking at the shadows  that created. She was looking at him, and he was looking at  her, and together, he knew, they could accomplish almost  anything.

The End

Story (  C. A. Leuch, February 2002

Table of Contents

Shades of Gray

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9